The trenches are filled with water that reaches your knees, I don’t want trench foot. But others do. Those blighty soldiers that make the Boucher’s list deserve to die, cowards. Days were rainy mum, never had a dry day, or clean. Came back once full of mud. What happened on the no man’s land made hospital tents seem like a party! One of those French are stealing medical supplies and selling them. I ought to put a bullet though his skull. Couple a day later, he was shot by the Germans. Sooner or later he would have got shot, and get what he deserves.

Private Buck was just sent over from one of them training camps after conscription was a law back home in Canada. He told me that the war is almost over. But, hell this rookie just came from heaven, and he’s about to meet hell itself.

To be honest, I have missed your home made chilli, even though it did need some work. Have you seen what they are serving here? If we were lucky, we would get meat, hard like a rock and stale. But that hasn’t come in a while, since they’re more soldiers and transportation lines are spread thin. We just get a potato, or maybe veggies.

Would you kindly not remind dad of my birthday, mum, dad never seems to remember. Even though he seems like he wants me to leave, sister told me he doesn’t want to see me anymore, or he’ll miss me too much and tell me to stay. My birthday isn’t much around here, I didn’t really tell. Yet I don’t care. But my wish, more than wanting to waste those Germans, is coming home.

From your loving son,

Carlton Tamworth

P.S. I never wanted anything more than to have a family picture. No matter what I will have that family picture. I’ll try to write, don’t be afraid if I don’t often. I lost my sense of humour now, there’s nothing to laugh about. I miss and love you all.