It’s cold. So cold it -- it goes deep into your bones, but there is one place I can go to find warmth and that is to think of you. I’m driven to the point of desperation, where I feel like giving myself up. But I must continue the fight, as everyday that passes, I am one day closer to being reunited with you. My mental and physical state decreases rapidly as the death tolls around me continue to rise. Sitting alone in this damp, filth trench I hear the constant blasts of artillery and the moans of each dying man, each man as innocent and honest as the next, suffering though for no given reason.

I thank you, from the pit of my burning nauseous stomach, for giving me a reason to keep strong... to keep fighting. I do this for you, you’re my strength and hope. I focus on returning to you, for us to be us, one again. I think if I fight hard enough and keep focused on you then nothing can stop me. Every other man thought that too. Many of the men I had befriended her are dead. John, James, Peter and George. All dead, from one gas attack. I’m trying my best to describe this to you, but the only word I can think of is evil. Unnecessary evil to us fighting. The corpse of one man lies beside me, his rotting flesh stinking out this part of the trench. I can still see the blood coated bullet that killed him, shining slightly from his chest. His eyes are still open as if he’s staying at the sky, his mouth hanging open making it look like he was trying to say something.

Our lives must mean nothing to anyone as everyday we are sent to almost certain death and those who do survive and return to the trench cannot rejoice as we are sent back out again, within a few short hours. It all seems fake, like a drastic nightmare, but it’s only until you see your friends lying dead at your feet and you look out over the brutal fighting, that it all comes flooding back. The pain, the fear and the horrific sights all remind you that this is not a dream and the utter hell we are going through is real.

I’m not certain of when this will end, but I pray to God hoping it will be over soon. I just want to be back with you, holding you in my arms, knowing we are both safe. I’m constantly so scared. I jump at every sudden noise, any noise other than the drone of artillery, even if it’s just a few rats scurrying around in search of new flesh for food. Each time I try to swallow a mouthful of ‘food’ – disgusting as it may taste – all I can taste is blood. It’s running through my mouth and down my throat like a river of molten lava. I’m not even sure if it’s real blood I’m tasting or if it’s just a mental thing, representing my hatred of this situation that I, and many others have been unwillingly forced into. Either way, it’s equally disturbing.

I don’t even know what to think anymore, never mind what to say or do. I have no idea if I will even be alive tomorrow to add additional words to this letter, but I need you to know – and never to forget – how much I love you. You mean so much to me and I love you darling, even after my last breath, you’ll never be erased from my memory.