letter home

Dear Mom
The front here in Paris is agonizing and it's just as hard for a medic as a soilder we see dead bodies all day every day and those who aren't dead bodies at first will be within the hour, soilders drop as the artillery bring fire upon the trenches and when we look over the trenches we have seconds before a sniper takes you out. Yesterday I was smacked against the trench wall due to a artillery shell exploding just above me suffered a small conccusion but had to get back on my feet to work with the wounded if not for my helmet I would have probably died, I can't wait to go home in a year I miss good cooked food and a warm bed, going to sleep without bombs going off would be comforting.
Two of my friends bet each other who could look over the trench the longest and they were both killed by snipers, tell dad I said hi and I sent something for Francis, an officers pistol, we got it from a German officer who commanded this trench before we took it back, keep the bullets on you though I don't want him shooting until I get back so I can teach him.




This is your sons company commander
SGT Turner

This note was found at the medic camp, your sons body was not there, he was taken prisoner by German forces he is deemed a P.O.W and hopefully we will be able to get him back, we are sorry for your son.
We send to you the pistol he mentioned in his letter and his dog tags and belongings when we find him we will send him back to you