Dear Mum, Out here on the front lines, the Jerries, or Germans back home, seem to plentiful. I send out the lads, but they keep on coming. It’s like this war will never end. And I’m concerned about my troops as well, I can’t help but feel for them, but they are bloody well stupid at following orders. Or it might just be my order menu… anyway, I tell them to run to get the cargo supplies that are routinely dropped on the Jerry side, and they don’t hop to it.

I also think that they some feuds going on, because they keep shooting each other. And I’m quite sure that they aren’t using the banquette in the trenches. Or that they wear their brodies, they keep getting shot in the head. And I shouldn’t be writing this from my berme, but I think there are no blighties bad enough to merit a return to the Britannia.

Man the Line!

I also can’t tell if they are in a funk or not, since the Jerries seem nigh invincible, so they might be losing moral. They do keep yelling curses and the sounds of war are heard all around, day in and day out. I hope to go back home soon, since most of the old sweats here are dead. Too many rookies for me.

I do say, fighting this war for too long is no fun at all. Well, it seems the squareheads are coming in another wave. I’ll write you another letter, soon, but not if General Greg makes me do some impossible objective.

Love,
Second Lieutenant
Razzi3l

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