My Dearest Mary, April 8, 1917
We are at Vimy Ridge now. I am sitting in my dugout, endlessly gazing at the artillery barrage outside. The sun is starting to set, and the light is pouring the entrance. Today have been a harsh day, and I will take some time to write a letter to you before I slumber. The significance about writing to you today is because it may be my very last letter. Tomorrow, we are going on an all-out assail. It is going to be the day that will not only change my own fate, but also fate of thousands of warriors. I have been through a lot in the past battles, but the war has never been as devastating. Thousands of men have fallen from machine guns and shell fire. In the open fields of No Man’s Land, we stand no chance if we continue to stay exposed, so we dug deep trenches for cover. To the side of the filthy trenches, we dug rooms for our warriors. I am very nervous right now about my fate tomorrow. However, I am confident that I will defend my country’s honour. After years of conditioning, the warriors that survived are all ready for one final assail to claim the hills. Today was just another like the rest. We woke at 4 o’clock in the morning to the echoes of the rain, then hastily practised some drills with my platoon. Before long, we took defensive sniper positions until noon, when we were able to stand down for only a short moment. The trenches are flooding, but we must not get off guard. In the afternoon, our armory exploded after being struck by a shell. The unfortunate ones have perished in the explosion, and we also lost many crates of guns and hand grenades. In the bright side, the guns that got destroyed were just more of the infamous Ross Rifle. These guns are a pain to carry around. The length and weight limits our mobility through the battlefield which isn’t a problem if it’s worth extra inconvenience. However,...
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