We see in trenches like cavemen and starve most of the time, but he used to stay that after feast with an endless leave of wine. I hope that’s where he is now have and drinking galore, he’s earned it. I fare I am going to be cursed for life for the guilt that hangs on my shoulders. The day he died I was afraid, I had a wife and kids and Simon knew that, he went up in my keister he was shot by our own men for seek to excuse me from fighting. I went out and fought for my friend, I didn’t die though I wish I had. I no longer feel like an honoured soldier but more than like a slave.
At first it looked like a great opportunity to fight for my country, all the posters looked so accept like they actually cared about us. But now I see it was in force(p) propaganda.
I fear the trench just as well as I fear no mans land. Creatures lurk in the shadows waiting. The suspense is killing me. The trenches where we are considered ‘ rubber eraser’ are any thing but. We are never unspoilt and we never will be, every out come is destruction so why fight for the dreadful remainder of what elflike life we have left. I send letters to my still of course censored; she says to make friends to make the time go by, but why cause my self unnecessary pain when I know that fifty percent of the soldiers standing sooner me wont come back alive. After being internally as well as externally tortured I will remain shell-shocked for the rest of my existence. Today like...If you want to seize a full essay, order it on our website: Orderessay
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