Oct 12-15
Somewhere in France
Dear Isabelle,
How are you doing sweety? Good?Hope so! I tried to write to you before but failed due to work. We arrived in France a few days ago. We live in trenches here, remember I told you about them? Well, these trenches are very different than the ones we used for training in Canada. These trenches are very muddy and narrow with rats coming in every now and then. There is also an eerie insect called lice that is light in color and leaves red blotchy bite marks all over the body. Pretty dangerous, eh? That is why, I spray about a gallon of Lysol in fear of them. Also, we have to sleep fully dressed which was very uncomfortable but now I am accustomed to it. Everyday at dawn, we would assemble in the mud outside our tents. Everyone looked terrible, some of us looked sick, old, unshaved and stank dirty. In the afternoon, half of us would fight and the other half would dig farther in the trenches. Many men died while fighting at the war and some died due to the illness. We have no idea what to expect but so far I've survived. At night, we would take turns guarding the boundary while the other soldiers slept. It is very depressing to live here, to see so many dead bodies lying around and have your death loom around you like a companion. Today, we fought with the Germans on the other side. We were hidden in the blood-stained muddy trenches as we waited for the war to begin . For a minute, everything fell silent as if the time has stopped. Soon, cries of pain and anguish screeched through the trenches and everyone started firing in the opposite direction. Many of my friends fell on my side, flailing their arms for help as the fat rats ate their dead remnants. When the battle ended, I let myself sink to the floor and cried. I cried and let the tears dissolve me into a false hope. A hope that I will survive, that I will come back, to you. While I am sitting here and writing this letter, I listen to the men talking, smoking and gambling. Some cleaning their rifles and others killing the lice with their fingernails. I hope this war ends soon. Isabelle, I miss you very much. Write soon to your beloved husband. Take care.
Lots of love,
Marc
