9th Nov 1918
Dearest Diary,
It has been almost a whole year since I have written in you. The peacefulness did not last long from last year’s December gone. Christmas Day was the only day of peace – it was business as usual on the 26th December – the fighting resumed of course. The reason I have not written in you for such a long time is because the fighting has reached a crescendo; so many of my beloved friends – whom I have spent four years of my life with – have been killed, maimed and disfigured by the shrapnel blasts from the other side. The sight here is gruesome – the stench is sickening. Stomach churning. Abominable. I am losing my mind. I can feel it – the evil of this war is destroying me from the inside out. I am going to end up just a shell of the man I once was. The only thing keeping me sane is the thought of returning to my family. Dearest Diary, I must once again leave you. The attack is constant now. I have to help my comrades. Old friend, thank you for listening once again.
