"I tell you it is the vilest baseness to use horses in the war"
We were bombarded yesterday. While we sat in trench filling up with mustard gas, a coffin of a previously fallen soldier was blown into the air from its grave and fell on one of our comrade's arms. He then ripped his gas mask off in pure shock. Fortunately, the soldier made it out alive.
GAS! GAS! GAS!
My Arm!! Ahh!
Keep your mask on!
"Shouldn't we just take a revolver and put an end to it?"
Later on that day we came across a comrade, who hadn't had luck on his side that day.
"Yes, Kat, we ought to put him out of his misery."
Food is scarce on the front. When we get time off behind the lines sometimes pleasure ourselves to a "feast". One night, Kat and I, decided it was a good idea to raid a nearby barn and fetch us a nice goose.
We ate well that night.
She looks cooked!
Smells like Christmas back at home.
This war has captured the soul of every living thing within its reach. Just the other day, a couple of rats attacked a dog and gnawed on the dog until it was merely guts and bones. There is no mercy out here. Everyone and everything is just another piece in the game of Survival.