Entry 27-- The sweat pouring off of me must have been stone cold, but it wouldn't have mattered much anyway... I was completely and entirely numb, body and mind. A fatal agreement for my death, that's what this was, except so much more than that. This is what reality feels like, and I was probably standing on my own grave- without the grave, that is. Although I enlisted with a bunch of other men, it felt like it was only me, like I was the only one stranded on this damn battlefield; one on one with the enemy, me against the world. The rifle rattled in my blood stained hands while my fingers trembled. Any man who thought it was easy to fight for your nation in a world where only violence exists should earn an immediate death penalty. I tried to keep it still, tried to focus... focusing on trying to focus wasn't doing me much good at this point. My target may have been but only a couple hundred yards away. They said it wasn't difficult, as a matter of fact, they promised, and I can't seem to find the truth in their words. After you've seen the lifeless limp body of a man of pride, bullet wounds everywhere, laying in a pool of blood... after you've awaken to the repulsive odour of filth and decay... it changes one's perspective on possibly and absolutely everything. I've been sending constant letters to my family, though I have fears that they don't make it through to them. I wonder about my wife, my two children and how they could possibly be doing... This could have been slightly easier, if gunfire and shells jumping through the smoke all around me was barely a distraction. If I don't make it through, will they? Today is tomorrow, tomorrow is today, and the day after that, and the day after that...
