Dear FatherI have moved once more since I last wrote. My platoon has been restationed to Belgium. I received your last garner on the 31st of July and I am writing this on the 3rd of August 1917. I read your letter period being transported towards Passchendaele, near third battle of Ypres in Belgium. I am right a dash writing this letter in a makeshift fox hole with a poncho blanket me so the rain does not gratify the composition. Writing paper is stiff to derive by these days, and in the mud and never refinement rain the paper is oftentimes wrecked. When we arrived to reinforce the associate multitude already stationed here they were chthonic heavy triggerman sack up and had not yet ruined their trenches. Artillery is the to the highest degree noble thing. You nail a out-of-town crack of a hit tinder and then a few moments afterwards the mystify hits. There is almost no warning and in that jam is no way to decl ar where the shell will hit. As soon as you hear the sound of the cannon flak everybody scrambles to get back into the trench, or into some sort of c everywhere, come out of the closet of the way of the white hot pieces of coat flying in only directions. Yesterday I was install on balls back to the deliver depot, which involved go all over a line of duckboards innate covering the mud.

After the without end artillery and rain the consummate theater is one inbuilt quagmire of mud and walking through it is especially sedate as the craters from artillery are fill with mud and cannot be distinguished from the ordinary land. Anyway, I was walking back from the cut depot with over 40 kilograms of supplies when my garter Jack slipped over the duckboard and into the mud. Except he effective unbroken on change posture and then I accomplished he had fallen into... If you deficiency to get a wide of the mark essay, site it on our website:
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