December 24st 1915
My hand writing's all over the place, I can't stop shaking, knowing I could die at any second. I'm still hoping that I don't end up with this shellshock like my poor brother Allistor had and because of the condition he was called a coward. Today he wasn't able to cope with it any longer and was shot right in front of my eyes. Who can do that? Who can kill one of their own comrades?
Plus to my disgust and sorrow, I saw rats the sizes of cats eating away at him like he was just food sent for them. However not only did that happen, I was returned to the death line (front line) from the Reserve Trench and the conditions are even worse. The latrines are everywhere. As it's one of the other sides targets to make the trenches filled with feces to make us ill besides they said it's meant to rain tonight and I've been put on guard duty, While the others are off collecting food, water, letters from our family also they collect what first aid we can have.
As much as I want to go home, I don't want to go home suffering from trench-foot it's a horrible condition that is caused by the wet, cold and the insanitary conditions.
Arthur Kirkland
In this war, there are NO cowards!