WW!

William McRae 30/10/16 Dear Diary, I woke up this morning to find that I was in a hospital. I was surrounded by men healing from wounds, men sleeping and men coming into the tent, blood spilling onto the ground. I looked down at my shirt, there was white bandages soaked with blood wrapped around my chest. Wait? A hospital, people don’t go out to collect wounded soldiers. I am puzzled. As I write, I feel my strength weakening, my chest starts to burn with the pain. Although thee energy to write astounds me, but as I write, my breath gets shallower.

Somewhere in my brain, I know I will die today, I was probably too injured, but I’m lucky I have now to write one more time. I might even die whilst I’m writing, but now, I just need to hope that I would survive this ordeal.

The hospital is filthy though, and I’m using the covers of another solider who died. There is blood crusted on the sheet, every time I move, it crunches. I feel sick now, how can I lie in a dead men’s blood and bed? To the left and