It's been exactly 4 months since I was drafted, surprisingly I haven't been shot yet although I have a pretty bad case of what they call 'Trench Foot' it's the result of cheap shoes that are always 2 sizes too small and being in muddy trenches day after day. Having a size 9 foot and size 7 shoes doesn't help my case that much. My feet are purple and swollen and in a ton of pain.
This war we've been fighting for more than a year now but it just keeps dragging on and on, bitter like the cold bite of the December air and I know that most of us are giving up hope but not me, knowing that I'm helping you out, mother, keeps me going and stops me from blowing my own brains like some of the other soldiers.
It's the fear that is the worst part of all this mess.
The other men, they reek of it. The aroma smells like trench mud after the rain.
The fear and the nerve-racking feeling of knowing you could be next.
I'm here for you Mother, this war will end and we will finally live in riches not rags.
Regards,
Your dear son,
Gerard.
Author's note: hi, my names Roze, @mikeysexual on Instagram!
This story is only 6 chapters and I will upload one chapter a day:)
Umm, it's kinda sad, it made me cry;)
Side,side note: I wrote this as a history project and I added mcr to it and now, well, this
