Posters back in England implied there would be rugger, cricket and soccer but I haven’t seen any sign of that sort of thing anywhere or by anyone, I guess I need to ask when and where they are held.
Another story I heard was about rats. Someone was telling me that huge rats would come up to people at night while they were sleeping and begin to chew away at their foot or arm and other places. That story makes me not want to go to sleep.
I’ve been warned not to stand up too high otherwise a German would shoot me dead, but I did once and had a very quick look round. I was surprised at what I saw. It was just mud everywhere, no trees, maybe a stump if you looked hard enough. Every thing else was just mud and puddles.
This is my first entry of many since I arrived to the war diary, I hope, I will fill you in as life goes.
The reason I chose the dates of the entries for both entries one and two because Stanhope has changed the most between each of them. At entry one he has just arrived and is looking forward to fighting, he is also disappointed with what it was like.
In entry two he has started drinking and at the time is drunk, he has got used to the surroundings and overall has been effected by the war greatly.
Entry two. 1918-March 16th.
Dear Diary
I am still writing for some reason that I don’t know. I might as well any way, it might drone out the cries of pain out from the mud if I concentrate hard enough.
Today the usual happened I woke up in the morning at 6:30 which gave me half an hour to get ready to send the troops out for another slaughtering. I had a really bad headache to get rid of and I felt like was going to throw up. So I got my whiskey out and drunk half to prepare myself for the blood shed and help my headache.
During the enormous bloodshed I drank the other half of the whiskey bottle when I realised I couldn’t take the flashes, bangs and screams and cries of pain.
I guess it is worse to watch and listen to the deaths than to go out and fight. But I haven’t got the guts, as the drink hasn’t set in. I wish it would hurry up I don’t think I can take the cries much longer and I want to help.
By the time the drink did set in the fight was over I called in the troops and waited to help with the wounded like a coward, but I couldn’t do that because they wouldn’t let me but I thought I was able.
At the moment I feel really guilty for not going out and I feel terrible. I wish the war would end but I don’t want Madge to see me in this state, I feel so confused. What am I going to do?
I now remember why writing this is meant to help, it lets you express yourself and feel better. Well it didn’t work for me, it is making me feel worse because it is bringing up all the terrible things that I would rather forget about. Such as the death of Albert who I had got know well. So I am going finish now.
Well back to my drink!
This may be my last entry!
