Greetings, Mother
It's becoming harder to write to you, we barely have time anymore, we are like slaves to the war: we work and work and get none in return.
I was in the front line for the first time last week, 3 days in 3days out, the Germans are insane, absolutely crazy.
Not a hint of fear in them. Running over into the No Man's Land just to drop deathly gas bombs of chlorine that could lead to their casualty as well, I will never understand it.
Being out of the front line does not mean rest.
Its means a lesser chance of getting your head blown off.
If you aren't in the front line, or the enemies are not firing bullets one after the other at the speed of light, You're doing the Infantry's work: digging new trenches, fixing old ones, transporting supplies and equipment up and down community trenches. All the 'Boring stuff'
We are trying to figure out the as that the Germans use, the aftermath is devastating, and therefor we need t at our side. This war is no longer a fight for peace; it's now a war of competition and the greed of nations.
But all wars come to an end sooner or later, and we will be reunited, mother, I promise you that.
Please stay cheerful, for me.
Never let them take the light behind your eyes.
Your dear son,
Gerard.
