It has been quite some time since I have last written, the more I learn about this god forsaken war the less I want to discuss it, however I know you are sixteen now and may see it a duty to follow my footsteps. So I am taking the time to describe the theatrics of my life in the trenches and the daily occurrences. Firstly I must enquire on the home life, how is your brother and mother? Has the grieving process of father slowed, are they coping? Make sure you take good care of them Michael, keep the farm up and running and enjoy yourself at Christmas time.
The time spent at the Etaples base training camp was hard, the men began to realise what we were going to face, and the Bull ring training, created to prepare us for time in the trenches was nothing like the horrors I face daily.
After the training I was sent to the western front, I had made several close acquaintances but evidently we were split up.
Life in the trenches is hard, they require constant maintenance, sandbags need to be refilled and stacked, new duckboards placed to aid against trench foot. So much time is spent around waiting for a battle, in the lonely boring times my friends and I play cards, or dice. Bill is especially good at poker, he is my closest friend out here, and he seems to be coping better as he is older and seen a lot more than myself. One night I awoke to him sobbing, we shared a friendly conversation on the toll this fighting takes on us, he changes his socks only one time a day, two is recommended to stop trench foot.
Speaking on trench foot...