My Brother Jack - Creative Writing (Letter Home)

Dear FatherI have moved again since I terminal wrote. My platoon has been restationed to Belgium. I received your last letter on the thirty-first of July and I am writing this on the 3rd of marvelous 1917. I read your letter while being transported towards Passchendaele, costly third battle of Ypres in Belgium. I am now writing this letter in a jury-rigged foxhole with a poncho blanket me so the come down does not spoil the composition. Writing writing is hard to come by these days, and in the foul up and never ending rain the paper is often wrecked. When we arrived to reinforce the associate troops already stationed hither they were under heavy triggerman fire and had not nevertheless finished their trenches. Artillery is the to the highest degree terrible thing. You hear a distant crack of a cannon tinder and and then a few moments afterwards the shell hits. There is approximately no warning and in that location is no itinerary to tell where the shell will hit. As soon as you hear the sound of the cannon firing everybody scrambles to get tail into the trench, or into some sort of c all over, come out of the military press of the way of the white hot pieces of metal flying in all directions. Yesterday I was base on balls fanny to the supply depot, which involved walking over a take up of duckboards natural covering the mud. After the endless artillery and rain the entire theater is one entire quagmire of mud and walking through it is especially dangerous as the craters from artillery are fill with mud and cannot be distinguished from the public land. Anyway, I was walking back from the supply depot with over 40 kilograms of supplies when my garter Jack slipped over the duckboard and into the mud. Except he just unbroken on sinking and then I realised he had fallen into... If you want to get a full essay, site it on our website: BestEssayCheap.com
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