Christmas

December 23, 1914

Dear Mother and Father,

As the temperatures drop, the fighting grows. There are so many bodies in "No Man's Land". So many, in fact, that I am not sure if we're shooting the enemy or just dead bodies of our fallen brothers and foe. I do not like to think about that. I cannot imagine what the afterlife life is like. Is it darkness? Is there nothing? What will I remember? What if I don't remember anything at all? I know I should not think of the inevitable, that means the future that you can not stop, or at least that is what Jeremiah taught me, but I cannot help but to think as such.

I am missing home. It's only been a few months, but it seems as though it were a lifetime ago since I saw your faces and felt your warm embraces. I do not consider myself a poet in these harshest of times, but I find myself writing rhymes to pass the time, and now I fear I cannot stop. Perhaps when I return I may try my fortune at becoming a poet or a famous writer such as the likes of Edgar Allen Poe. With the things I have seen, I am sure I can write as dark as he. I will not tell you of the horrors I have seen. I took a journey to the unknown. I will come back changed I can feel it in my very soul. I fear the darkness has a hold on me.

I have seen what the darkness does, and I do not want to say goodbye to who I was, but I fear I must. You must think me crazy, but I can assure you, the truth is stranger than my own worst dreams. I pray to god to be home soon. I pray that you all are safe. I pray that you all have a wonderful Christmas and that I may make it through to see you all on the other side. Tell Jonah and Eve I miss them, tell them I wish to see them once more. With the eve of Christmas tomorrow, I may exchange my ration hardtack for some of these men's cigarettes. I have to go, I will write you soon, the shells have started exploding and the Germans are firing their rifles. Save a plate of your turkey for me mother. And father, save me a cigar.

Love your son,

Harvey.