(2) Training!

We took the train 2 dover, then crossed the chanel, there was an incident with two of us, a sandwich and a rather large heron but i shan't rel8 that now. Of course, B4 we go 2 war we have 2 train! The training camp is in France, it has a funny frnech name, im not quite sure wat it is. The training is, well theres only 1 word 4 it, hard. Up at the crack of dawn if not earlier, crawling thru metre deep mud then pick up a bayonet and charge at the straw bag, in, twist, out. I coulnd't help thinking, if the hun are as imobile as these dummies, this wars gona be a piece of cake. Everythin is ordered here, usually in lines, sleep in lines, line up 4 a shave, line up 4 food, lines of trenches, lines of rifles, even lines of privies. Bit of an ironic name "privy", nothing private about the bogs here, you have to get used 2 doing EVERYTHING with eachother, Spacktrick does make it a lot harder tho. The best part is the shooting, whereas the rest of the time im getting shouted at, when im shooting they have nothing to say, best shooter in the regiment, thats me. We're moving to the front line tomorrow, its all starting to become more serious, 4 all of us. as the sound of distant guns echoes from the horizon, it brings home how fragile we are.