I am writing to you to tell you not to worry even though, I don’t even know if I will be okay. Right now it’s 8:00 a.m. and I’m on break. The Trench living conditions are not as good as I expected. Actually, it’s nothing like I expected. First of all there is an awful smell from all the bodies and second, I’m standing in a waste basket and water. I’ve learned to get used to the smell, but from standing in the waste basket twenty four hours a day it is giving me a small case of trench foot. Good thing it’s not too serious like other men. In fact, compared to the other men I’m doing way better than any of them. Every day I see many having mental breakdowns, I’m not surprised. When you’re trying to sleep you can’t, because all you can hear is the calls for help in no man’s land. Did you know some of my best friends are out in no mas land right now? I can hear them screaming my name for help, but I can’t do anything about it. I will never be able to get their screams out of my head, that’s a promise. The thing that kills me the most is when I ask anyone why we’re here fighting the Germans they say I don’t know. I am supposed to be going over the top tonight. Everyone who has been over the top hasn’t exactly made it back, hopefully I can change that. I wish I could promise you I’ll be home again, but I make no promises I can’t keep.