It's cold, I"m wet and my clothes are so covered in lice that I can feel them crawling through my pale skin. I feel as if my feet don't belong to me. They have swollen up to two or three times their usual size. I could probably stick a needle into these swollen lumps on the end of my legs and not feel a thing. However, I"m lucky that I have not lost them all together like a few other unfortunate souls. The pain is unbearable and throughout the night I can hear other men cry and scream out in agony from all directions of the trench, as they suffer the same experiences as me.
The nights are the worst of all. I rarely fall into a deep sleep, into a world where I can forget all my problems. Giant rats scampering across my body frequently awake me. Worst of all though, my own foolish nightmares refuse to rest. Once I am awake there is no chance of falling back to sleep because this terrifying trench is never, ever silent.
I fear the dark, for when night comes I shall risk my life once more, for my country. It is my turn to take care of the dreaded job of fixing the barbed wire across the boundary lines, which seem so far away. .
It is Friday night, the Sabbath night. Physically my body is stationary in this deep, muddy trench that I have grown to loathe so much. Yet my mind is with my family, who are most likely gathering around the table at this very moment, praying with all their hearts.
"Boys we have to be strong and pray with all our hearts that your Father is still alive." Rachel was trying so desperately to hold the family together. Richard was sixteen years old and in just a short time he would be joining his father in the fight for his country. Richard was afraid. He was scared of what terrors he might face if he were to have to bravely step forward at the tender age of seventeen.
Louis was eleven, and he was so naive. They joined their mother at the table where the now eight month pregnant lady had laid out the candles for the Sabbath.
