Blog Post #10 09/28/1915
Dear, Sweet Beth,
The monster we are to fight in this war is outrageously powerful. he must be some magical, mighty dragon, for he makes the sounds of wailing women before shaking the ground with footsteps heavier and angrier than ever heard by man. We have tried much, but nothing seems to be effective. Men surrounding me rise and fall as though this were some horrible game. Death is uncertain, for those who have fallen do sometimes rise. These Rosses are ineffective and our bombs do not scare the fearsome beast. The generals have been devising an attack strategy for moving out trenches forward in hopes that the beast will retreat. We wish to attack in 3 days time, but I fear we will not be able to do so. It pains me to say I may not return the man I once was. The monster has cast a horrid spell. As the magic fog oozes into our trenches, my affected comrades begin laughing uncontrollably, so much so that they seem to be in pain. Eventually they had begun crying and wailing to the angels, as their wilting bodies drifted their soul into the sweet arms of death. The general told us to urinate on cloths and hold them over our mouths to protect ourselves from the magic. The angels have been kind, working hard to help the soldiers release death's tight grasp. Few times have they cut the legs off of men, sending the lucky bastards back where they came from. I fear that out of cowardice, I may also cut my legs, so I might return home to you. I miss you, the feeling of your soft hands on my cheek. I have eaten nothing but canned beef for 6 months, and I miss the taste of you magical cooking. Life here is dangerous and loud, and I constantly fear for my life. Some soldiers go mad enough to run over the top and into the mouth of the beast. We do nothing for entertainment but take the lives of the poor rodents with whom we share these awful trenches. My feet are tearing in pain, for the mud has soaked my feet all day. The general says I must stand for as long as I am able, and slay this beast I shall. I would that I return to you by Christmas this year my love.
Sincerely,
Your love, Jonathon Bell.
The monster we are to fight in this war is outrageously powerful. he must be some magical, mighty dragon, for he makes the sounds of wailing women before shaking the ground with footsteps heavier and angrier than ever heard by man. We have tried much, but nothing seems to be effective. Men surrounding me rise and fall as though this were some horrible game. Death is uncertain, for those who have fallen do sometimes rise. These Rosses are ineffective and our bombs do not scare the fearsome beast. The generals have been devising an attack strategy for moving out trenches forward in hopes that the beast will retreat. We wish to attack in 3 days time, but I fear we will not be able to do so. It pains me to say I may not return the man I once was. The monster has cast a horrid spell. As the magic fog oozes into our trenches, my affected comrades begin laughing uncontrollably, so much so that they seem to be in pain. Eventually they had begun crying and wailing to the angels, as their wilting bodies drifted their soul into the sweet arms of death. The general told us to urinate on cloths and hold them over our mouths to protect ourselves from the magic. The angels have been kind, working hard to help the soldiers release death's tight grasp. Few times have they cut the legs off of men, sending the lucky bastards back where they came from. I fear that out of cowardice, I may also cut my legs, so I might return home to you. I miss you, the feeling of your soft hands on my cheek. I have eaten nothing but canned beef for 6 months, and I miss the taste of you magical cooking. Life here is dangerous and loud, and I constantly fear for my life. Some soldiers go mad enough to run over the top and into the mouth of the beast. We do nothing for entertainment but take the lives of the poor rodents with whom we share these awful trenches. My feet are tearing in pain, for the mud has soaked my feet all day. The general says I must stand for as long as I am able, and slay this beast I shall. I would that I return to you by Christmas this year my love.
Sincerely,
Your love, Jonathon Bell.