I have just received the news of my father’s suicide. I don’t know what to say or believe in anymore. I always thought of my father as a strong man that has his feet on the ground and a firm stance. But to think, the only man I have ever looked up to in my life, the only man whom I consider a gentleman, a man of his word, a man of pride and dignity. To receive his letter, and finding out what a crippled feeble-minded man he became over my mother’s death. I see men dying left and right everyday, and I am probably responsible for the deaths of hundreds of men, just to gain a couple of meters into their land? Is this what all these deaths, all these men that were willing to leave behind everything they had, everything they can call their own, behind, does it really all sum up to this? If the death of thousands of men can be shunned from a distance, but the death of one’s woman can break a man like my father… Please, I can’t really process everything that has been happening. War has made me a bit colder, I’m still waiting for the death of my mother to truly sink in. And now this? I wonder how my love is doing, I’m just waiting for the day this stupid war is over so I can embrace and rekindle the love I have for my darling. *sigh* I miss her so. I should write to her..
27 October, 1916
DEATH, DEATH, AND DEATH EVERYWHERE! Charlie has just passed away. Why? Why!? We can’t even get decent doctors here, or anywhere! I wonder if they’re all dead. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are none left. The closest thing we get to have a doctor is a random soldier that knows how to bandage a wound! No instruments, no anesthesia, no medication, or anything! We have just enough for food. Poor Charlie, infection, then a killer fever? I’m glad I didn’t catch anything. I did send a lot of time caring for him, that fever could of passed to me like a flea on a street dog to a stray house cat.