September 14th, 1918

Three months, seven days and four hours. That is how long we’ve been in the trench. I find it hard to sleep with the constant machine gun fire. The only people who get any rest out here are those of us who have already been killed. Three months of constant panic. Nobody ever gives up.

It  has been three months since I have seen anyone with any innocence retained within them. This war has taken a toll on all of us, whether it's physical or mental doesn’t matter. It's still visible. Nobody is the same as they were before. War can get to your head, it's been that way since the beginning of time. Nobody walks away from a fight as the same man. Nobody walks away from the loss of a friend as the same man. Nobody walks away. Period.

Some people think that they’re fine on their own. It's not until you're out on the battlefield that you realize just how much you need other people. Half of the men I first met out here are dead. Some of them are missing. Some of them can't even move anymore. One of them is blind. The Germans utilize mustard gas more and more frequently every week. The use of that stuff is sick and twisted, but then again, isn’t everything out here sick and twisted?

I have been in action on the battlefield for three months, seven days and four hours. I've killed one man. His name was Karl Eichmann. He had ten bullets, a pistol, a knife and a picture of a woman with him when he was shot in the head. The woman had brownish hair and green eyes. Probably his mom or something. I wonder who is going to tell her about her son. He also had a half filled diary and a pen. The same diary I'm writing in now and the same pen I’m writing with now. I'm writing in a dead man's diary, the same man I killed. For the longest time I couldn't bring myself to accept that I did it. I'm a murderer.

September 28th, 1918

It’s been three months, twenty one days, and 8 ½ hours since I've made any friends. There's no point. If there are any lessons I have learned so far, it is that all good things must end. Making friends or even  acquaintances out here isn't even worth it. They all just vanish one way or another. Whether they die, go missing or get injured and sent home, they leave. After they're gone, the only thing you can think about is if you'll be the next one to die.

This place can drive a man mad. Three people died between today andmy last entry. Three people I knew. One of them went insane. He said he heard his son all the way from over in the German trench. He jumped right over the trench and ran out. He made it about three feet towards the German trench. Nobody even tried to stop him. Is it worth it to even live? We are all going to die here. That's what everyone says. Giving up is the best option.

This whole battle is a suicide mission. The Germans have reinforcements coming any day now. We have none. We have to stay and fight to the last man. This war is going to be the end of us all. My mind is the only one wrapped around the reality that we aren't going to make it out of here. All I can think about is how the woman in the photograph must feel. I don't know who she is. All I know is that it is my fault someone she loved is gone. I have no family to miss me if I don’t make it. What's the point in this war? People are needlessly suffering. Couldn't this all have just been negotiated? I'm tired. It's been months since I’ve slept. War is tiring.