As I sit here, writing this letter in the freezing cold pools of the flooded trench, listening to the rumbles of a Maxim machine gun in the distance while Antony uses his last breaths to scream agonizing profanities at the sky, I begin to recall my childhood. I remember how you'd take me to church every Sunday without fail, even after Pa up and left us for that courtesan in New York, even after we had to sell the farm, even after we both took up two jobs just to keep our house. After all that you've been through, you never forgot to wake up early Sunday morning, somehow get my lazy behind out of bed, and go to church to worship the good lord. I remember how Reverend Jacob always told the young boys like me that He was always with us through
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It was a Sunday morning, golden sunlight was tearing its way through the curtains, we were sitting at our shabby kitchen table, eating our shabby breakfast in our shabby house. I remember how worn out and broken everything was, it was the main reason I wanted to sign up, I wanted to give you the home you deserved. The pride in your eyes could have melted ice. ‘My boy is going to be a hero!’, you shouted. I wish I did, Mama, I wish I did. The next day, I signed up to be in the same troop as Antony and our wolf pack. Yet another grand adventure for the rowdy boys of the Whitewood Forest, we'd fight until the soil turned as red as our imaginary magic rubies and get home in time for Christmas. If only that was what truly …show more content…
A bullet lodged itself deep into his leg from when he ran across the No Man's Land, his time draws near as he lays in the cold mud and as I write this. He is screaming bloody murder at the clouds, he asks if there even is as God if hellish places like this existed. I have often wondered the same thing. Mama, the things I have seen would make the blackest soul cower in fear. I have seen the hope in a young man's eyes die as quickly as the bullet that shot him, monstrous rats scurrying to feast on the freshest dead, and calm, collected gentlemen turn into hysterical animals. There is no God, not here, this is a strip of Hell where Lucifer decided to play with his toy soldiers. In this place, I am merely a toy to be played with and gambled on. Soon, I'll be thrown
It was a Sunday morning, golden sunlight was tearing its way through the curtains, we were sitting at our shabby kitchen table, eating our shabby breakfast in our shabby house. I remember how worn out and broken everything was, it was the main reason I wanted to sign up, I wanted to give you the home you deserved. The pride in your eyes could have melted ice. ‘My boy is going to be a hero!’, you shouted. I wish I did, Mama, I wish I did. The next day, I signed up to be in the same troop as Antony and our wolf pack. Yet another grand adventure for the rowdy boys of the Whitewood Forest, we'd fight until the soil turned as red as our imaginary magic rubies and get home in time for Christmas. If only that was what truly …show more content…
A bullet lodged itself deep into his leg from when he ran across the No Man's Land, his time draws near as he lays in the cold mud and as I write this. He is screaming bloody murder at the clouds, he asks if there even is as God if hellish places like this existed. I have often wondered the same thing. Mama, the things I have seen would make the blackest soul cower in fear. I have seen the hope in a young man's eyes die as quickly as the bullet that shot him, monstrous rats scurrying to feast on the freshest dead, and calm, collected gentlemen turn into hysterical animals. There is no God, not here, this is a strip of Hell where Lucifer decided to play with his toy soldiers. In this place, I am merely a toy to be played with and gambled on. Soon, I'll be thrown