Though it was late morning, the cold of the night still clung to the smoke-filled air. Albert Narracott jumped at the the sound of a shell exploding merely a few feet away from him. He was sitting in a small cove in the side of the trench with his legs crossed in hopes that he might be able to keep his already cold, wet feet from being entirely soaked by the muddy water that lay in the bottom of the trench.

The sound of shouting men and the rage of German artillery stormed in Albert's ears. He felt the sharp claws of a rat as it crawled across his leg; he cringed and swatted it away.

Shivering, he grasped the rifle that lay at his side and attempted to steady his quivering hand...

Dear Mum,

I am sorry that I have been unable to write you in so long. Our battalion is now entrenched near the Somme River in France. It's miserably cold and wet here. I never imagined that I could miss home as much as I do right now; I even miss raking out the barn.

David Lyons, who is now a lieutenant and rather enjoys his superior rank, is just as sour as ever. Andrew and I are doing our best to put up with him. Andrew asked me to tell you hello.

The Germans have been bombing our trench endlessly since yesterday, and if this goes on much longer, I think I will lose my mind. Our battalion is going to make a charge to the German trench soon. I don't think I have ever been so scared in my life.

If I don't make it back home, I want Dad to know that all of the animosity between us for all those years was mostly my fault. I never tried to understand him; the pain and horror of what he must have gone through. But I think I understand now, Mum.

I still haven't found Joey, but I know that someday I will.

I love you and miss you, Mum; I long to be home again.

Love,
Your Son

Albert