Koritsimou,
I wish that I could write to you. I would not tell আপনি of the trenches filled with fetid water, the harsh wind which forever besets us even when our enemy’s বন্দুক are silent. Nor would I tell of the rats and the stench, the endless death and those driven mad দ্বারা it all. I would merely tell আপনি that I প্রণয় you.
At first, when we all arrived in this wretched place, none of us could make out the enemy, as the fog shrouded them. We soon learnt how to use the fog to our advantage, keeping quiet and clear of the enemy’s lines. We didn’t have much choice. We হারিয়ে গেছে 13 men that first day,...
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