⸺ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 | ᶜᵃᵉˢᵃʳ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ [ᵘᵃ]

𝐌𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫 (𝐭𝐩)...

Bourges,

June 22, 1917

My dear (tp),

At a time when the night passes in the middle of the trenches, I am writing to you without delay, or at least I am resuming the writing of the letter I had begun. The cold stings and freezes my fingers as I write to you, my dear (tp).

I'm more and more afraid of falling, of leaving you, alone, without anyone at home. I only think of you, your beautiful smile that extends to your ears and your (lc) hair (cc) which moves slightly when you turn to look at me.

Hearing the sound of your voice so soft and melodious would help me a lot to find sleep in the wind and the cold. Guess the sandman isn't brave enough to go through the trenches to help us.

Your beautiful letters warm my heart which, unfortunately, has cooled with the cold and the humidity of the dormitories and the slippery trenches because of the mud. I keep them carefully in the inside pockets of my uniform, well protected from humidity and soil.

I too dream, morning and evening, of taking you back in my arms, of hugging you as tightly as possible, of seeing your beautiful eyes again (cy) which crinkle slightly when you sketch your big smile.

In the end, I have to tell you that we don't do anything special except play battle with a vulgar damaged card game or even listen to the radio where songs from the last few years such as "The Lorraine walk" whose lyrics I don't know, "Over there" which I know more than well now or even "Verdun! We do not pass !". This kind of songs lightly enliven our days of waiting during our card games. Whether it's battle, belote, bridge or crapette.

It's been almost two months since I was shot in the foot and I have to tell you that everything is fine on that side, no infection, no reopening of the wound, nothing. I confess to being relieved on this point even if I hardly feel my foot wrapped in bandages reddened by dry blood.

The last line sergeant told us that we would return, me and the other wounded in the second line tomorrow to prepare them and me for the new assault which will follow the previous ones which will take place in one and two weeks. The next assault planned for me and the others is in a month... The problem is that I don't want to go there, I don't want to go there anymore... These others who are killed and who getting killed are the same as me, they are human beings; in their own right, although some do not have the same ideologies as others. That's probably what cost them their lives...

But know that I'm not crying.

Knowing that I'm going to go to the front once again, that I'm going to risk my life once more for this homeland that is France, makes me tremble with all my being and brings tears to my eyes even though I don't let none of them roll down my cheeks.

I hold them back to look strong.

This war is immature and without a specific goal, but hey, being now part of the Triple Alliance, we must come to the aid of our new ally, France.

When I hold my gun between my two hands that keep shaking as I run to the front and see the soldier next to me collapse, I want to imitate him in order to save my skin.

All these soldiers, French and American, whom I see over and over again crashing to the ground in the mud, in the puddles of stagnant water, in the barbed wire, I feel weak; weak in the face of the Triple Entente facing us, their mustard gas in hand, their overheating machine guns... weak in the face of these bursts of machine guns or infantry rifles shooting us all one by one, weak in the face to this war, in the face of this world conflict which surely has only the ultimate goal of killing as many soldiers as possible.

Know my pretty (tp) that I will not flinch and that I will fight with strength and courage until my last breath.

I wish and I hope, to set foot again at home, to be able to hold you in my arms and to be able to kiss you tenderly on the lips.

Caesar Antonio Zeppeli

PS: I almost forgot. It's been three months since I left and you live alone, so I imagine it's been a long time since you heard those three little words that make you so happy when I say them.

I love you