It has been quiet - too quiet. I, and my team, are getting used to sleeping and living in this hideous hellscape. The trenches here are coming along well, although Reklaw is really discontent with the rats and lice here. I am more discontent with my foot here in the trench. It rained lightly three days prior, making the trench muddy and allowing the plague to breed; I prayed to God for it to not rain again.

One night, Raphael was seduced by a woman and committed an unholy act. Meanwhile, Dave has been writing – with a shaking hand – to his family almost once every two days, even though he has to write his words and letters really small because he ran out of paper; the postal service only comes by rarely. Matthew, meanwhile, used up all our tobacco supplies and smoke sticks. He still does not speak, but he looks like he got better. We even found time to play cards DURING A WAR!

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I also bought a pen from a British soldier with some ration that, in his opinion, tasted delicious. I ran out of ink while writing earlier, and that was the expensive one-dollar pen I acquired near Mesa Verde. I plan to keep the pen; maybe I can refill the pen with ink.

The entire past two weeks have been strange. We have not seen a single German soldier around — not a single one. Does this mean that they are running out of Germans to throw at us, or does it mean that they are planning something big? Meanwhile, the United States sent reinforcements here, along with a few more doctors. The engineers estimate that the tank will be fixed within a week or so, and we will be moving again. How long until we defeat those German devils and end this war?