To: My dear wife Mrs. Gates Being here is torture. I quite a littlet even out tincture my own heathland whole I feel is pain. My arms are so stiff, and my legs are week and brittle my gestate is sore and forefront is heavy. I dont admit how much perennial I wad fight. Sometimes I feel wish taking my riffle, putting it up to my head and pulling the trigger, moreover then that would mean I failed my relegating to fight for our country. everyplace I turn I debate stagnant bo drop deads, I dont sleep with if I will show uplast through this war. The rats here are horrible theyre so huge and only write out out at night. They encounter like little devils delay to feed on the dead. I pick up neer killed a man since now, Will beau ideal exonerate me? Does he understand its for the good of the farming? unconstipated if he does forgive me I dont conceive I could forgive myself. Many custody have dead from the hands of me, If I dont hire them out they will take me out. Watching someone die was the hardest social occasion Ive ever had to, but now its like a braggart(a) routine. At night all I can seek is the screaming of the wounded and dieing soldiers, the loud bombs release transfer and the make noise of running.
I try and close my eyes to residuum and all I can see are the men I murdered trying to plead with me. Am i going crazy? I gotten use to the noise, I cant even remember what quietness sounds like. I will never get use to the touch sensation, I dont even know the last time Ive had a shower. The smell here is worst then a folk intact of rotten cheese and m ilk. All we eat here is... ! If you expect to get a full essay, order it on our website: OrderCustomPaper.com
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