World War 1

I remember, rummaging through the muddy trenches, suffering trench foot. Catching trench foot was as bad as getting shot in the heart. Yesterday our foot passed away. I was even pronounced dead after being shot by a sniper rifle but a step saved my life a-bit. It still ricocheted around my ribs; I had a visit to the hospital and it was a makeshift hospital among barren land. It was all bombed; it soon was our grave. Our souls will haunt it. The poppies will flourish, we look down upon our beloved; our work which bought freedom to our country.