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Verdun, February 21st 1916.
My Catherine,
Now at last I know what it's like. We have been fired on all night. The bullets were flying past incredibly low.
To protect myself, I had to lie over the body of a young chap from Brittany who had just fallen. I didn't even know him, he was new.
I was stuck so close to him that just as he turned the lights out I felt his last breath.
I still have his breath inside me, the smell of tobacco. It's incredible, his breath made me feel sick even more that the horror of his death.
Early in the morning, the people from the other side arrived. They were coming to finish off the survivors. I pretended I was dead. I was soaked in the other man's blood. I think that's what saved me.
Please send me some cigarettes, it's the least I can do for him.
Your Oskar.
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Paris, March 15th 1916.
My Oskar,
I was deeply disturbed by your letter. I don't know whether you are telling me the truth or trying to force me to confess to something.
Well I'll give you the whole story. A little over a month ago, on my way to the barracks to post a parcel, I bumped into this young Breton who was about to join your battalion.
He reminded me of you the day before you left. I don't know what came over me, I asked him to follow me to the house to spend his last few hours of freedom there.
But nothing happened. We just lay down side by side. I asked him to accept a game — I would call him by your name and he would answer as if he were you. He played your part in exchange for a few cigarettes.
I swear I can't even remember what his breath was like.
Come back to me soon,
Your Catherine
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