December 19 1944

the last of our crew was on the line the front lines, where poor eyes stared from the wooden planks feet stuck like sticks in mud waiting for the muscles to tense and be removed from the earth. we all stare into the distance looking for familiar or unfamiliar faces we were nine while the others slept by my bag and rifle ammo shells all over the floor engraved in the dirt we thought life would be over we were the last on the lines while on the other side the corpses lay, asleep with no signs of breath or warmth i visioned this nightmare i lived yesterdays fight seeing our brothers fall like trees inn the forest being the meat of last nights slaughter only now ready to ferment the soil we stand on now across the no mans land all we hear is artillery shells screaming through the sky while the victims below fell helplessly we all held hands , prayed and wished and hoped it all would be over soon smooth and quick this would be my last letter to you my dear i hold your necklace dear to my heart i pray i will make it home tomorrow love sweetie