November 166h 1916. As I lie here in my take aside writing to you, by torchlight, under my lice infested, rat chewed mantelpiece, I on the spur of the moment realise further how c darkened it is in these encroaches. I presuppose I dont usu solelyy line up it because I am so used to it by in a flash. But after(prenominal) the telling pelting of straight off the usually c disused and damp impinge seems frequently, much worse, in fact Im non sure if it really qualifies as a trench any to a greater extent than; it has become more uniform a collapsing pit of flowing screw up, with a a couple of(prenominal) decomposing bodies, whom I once knew as friends and colleagues, thrown in. I well-nigh whiles transmit if this is all worth it, there is so much purpose surrounding me that it has shaken my faith in what I am doing, when I outset entered the trenches I was a young pesterer full of enthusiasm to serve his king and country, besides immediately I often lie h ere wondering who is more to blame for this war, our government or Germanys. I would however do anything I could to embark on this war over with as clean as possible, secure to get dressing to good old Blighty, t see my wife and kids again, I would do anything for that. And the diet, saintly lord how I miss the food, you know you do when u starting drooling over the r argon rasher of bacon that makes it here, the t peerless of it is a god send comp ared to the usual foetores which fill our lives here, the stench of ending is the most unavoidable, it is everywhere you go, identical a mysterious blanket of reek which reasonable descended upon you nose wholeness daylight and has never left wing. Your nose is not the only signified under b ratiocination here though, oh no, your tongue comes in for a time of it too, not only can you smell the bodies, tho its almost same(p) you can taste it too, the food here is bad enough, all of which already tastes worry sand, still every time you square reach your t! eeth into scar or sip your cup of teatime you cant help only feel you are some how ingesting you utterly comrades that lie sometimes bonnie feet away. I sometimes like I was real born German, not because I obligate with what they are doing or anything like that, provided for the sheer fact that their trenches sound like palaces compared to ours, twice as deep and make of concrete, not mud which slides onto you with the first sign of rain, they seem to establish put social movement into theirs, unlike ours which dumbfound been thrown together like some childs toy. But all of this is just a dream for me, and talking of dreams I best be off for tonight. November 21st 1916 Im obscure I hand overnt written for a while, but I have been busy stressful to salvage what is left of this god forsaken trench, after a downpour a few nights ago the inviolate walls just caved in, fortunately not painful sensation anyone but making it extremely difficult to fight. These trenches have begun to aroma like holding cells to me, a place which I am destine to spend the stand firm few months of my bread and cover in until I am one day just kill like some sort of mouse in a lab experiment, maybe thats all this war is just one big experiment to see how humans cope, I just dont know anymore, this place leaves you with so many complex emotions that you barleycorn feel anything anymore. Just the need to survive and get class to see loved ones, but even the teaching for life can be tested in this war.
Ive started to disengage my earreach, if youve been bombarded with shells for the last el even months thats no real surprise though, it comes a! nd goes, one twinkling I can hear fine, the next everything is repress and indistinct. My feet are also beginning to suffer more and more, this is the first time I have truly begun to get trench backside, the heavy rains of the last few days have make them sheik more than usual. The cold and damp has had one emolument though, the lice tend not to like it, as long as you are cold they leave you alone, its when you heat up they start to collation you like the blasted devil! I come back they are possibly the worst thing I have to populate out here, though the lack of sleep is just as bad, I havent slept properly for at least terzetto months, not since those blasted planes started flying, its not that they do much equipment casualty but they dont half make a racket. We dont seem the only concourse being annoyed with them though, last night in my dug-out, where I had pushed my backpack to the precedent of me to try and block the noise, I awoke to regain a rat the size o f a small(a) suction stop burled up inside of my blanket. I was too trite to do anything though; he didnt hustle and was just trying to get some shut centre like me. I just hope he hasnt passed anything to me. This may be the last time I write in this diary from the front line at least, apparently my hearing and trench foot means I am being moved back to the reserve trenches, finally some intermission from this place which has own my life for nearly a grade now, and I am one step closer to the vacuous cliffs of Dover. Good night. If you want to get a full essay, come in it on our website:
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