July 17, 1916
Ypres, 16:32
Dearest Mother Mae,
Things are going alright over here, things just keeping wetter and muddier and I ain’t sure what to think of it anymore. We drag through mud all day which tires me out even more mamma I thought I was in good shape but haulin’ ‘round all this extra weight ain’t no fun. My feet are always hurtin’ and blisterin’ right on up. You’re just lucky you ain’t gotta wash all my muddy clothes…
I really miss bein’ home and havin’ those giant suppers every Sunday and family ain’t sounded all that bad. The mud is just awful mamma I just wanna come right on home and help you out again, a young boy don’t belong in this kind of mess. And mamma I lost my right foot. I was standing in those darn trenches way too long and well they are just went completely numb and turned all blue and stuff nothin’ real pretty. And then some disease sunk in gangrene or something like that I don’t remember what they darn old doctor guy said, I was too darn drunk.
I hope they just send me right on home soon, I’m not much help and I’m sorta afraid to just lay around all day. I’m a weak target anything could get me even those darn rats around here. I just don’t want to die mamma missing a foot is bad enough.
Don’t worry though momma I’m alright this happens all the time around here. It’s the rainiest time ever and everybody’s got this darn trench foot, I have to go sock picking off of dead bodies so others don’t have to get what I got.
Can’t wait to see your smiling face mamma and eat a good roast.
All my love,
Ernie, your sweet boy
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