text: December 21st, 1918 Adelaide, I cannot live alone with the knowledge of what has happened to Levi. It has been forty-six days and no other man has uttered a word, not even an indication that Levi existed. I’m almost certain you are aware of the war's end. Conflict between us and the Germans has been long gone yet the feeling of hopelessness and terror looms over the select few of us. We landed in France in late October. As we arrived in Le Mans the morale between men who had been stationed there quickly transferred to us. Levi though never changed. He spent every moment he could trying to raise our spirits. A few of the men resented him for not being as miserable as them. I found it charming. The trenches are more unbearable than imaginable. Levi’s attempts at humor became quiet sobs in the night. None of us could have anticipated the conditions in which our French friends had been fighting in. I often saw Levi staring into the walls of the trench with such intense focus. I was somewhat jealous of him if I’m being truthful; he seemed as if he was ignoring the war altogether in those moments. Within the days leading up to the war's end, Levi spiraled down to a deep despondency more and more with each mortar shell. Men who had been in the trench for months looked on as Levi fell victim within a few weeks. His sobs late in the night became rarer. He simply did not sleep. He came to my side the night before, smiling. At first, I had hoped that we might be able to get the Levi we once knew back to his former self. Levi put his hand on my face and began to whisper to me. He kept repeating to me that he had “finally heard” and that I needed to listen. Confused and still dazed from my sleep I told him to tell me in the morning. He wept to me while still smiling. “I’m going home, Beau.” These were the last words I spoke to Levi. On the morning of November 5th, we began to charge forward. I wish to not remember the sight of men being ripped apart by German artillery. We blindly ran forward ducking as if we knew when to dodge. It was useless looking back at it. Levi, myself, and the few men we had become acquaintances with over the weeks took cover in a large crater caving in on itself. As we lay there looking up at the sky as mortars passed over, Levi began to hum. The noise of our peers dying around us rang out louder than any sound I’d heard, but Levi, he just kept humming. He was cheerful and full of life. Eyes closed, he sat up and began to rise, putting himself in direct line of fire. Yet he slowly walked forward still humming his tune. It was a deep foreboding melody he repeated. The song pierced through gunfire and chaos and sunk deep into us like we had known this melody for our whole lives. With each step Levi took toward the top of the crater, his song rang out ever so slightly louder. Cutting below Levi’s hum was a deep rumbling like that of war drums. Could it be the tanks distorted from fear? Could it have been the beat of my own heart pounding in my head? I truly don’t know. I don’t want to know. Levi’s hum was now drowned out by that of a soft choir of trumpets playing the same melody he had been repeating as if a legion of angels were announcing the end times. I can only describe the horror that occupied no man’s land as inhuman. Deep in the fog of the German line faint movement was taking place above the ground. As Levi got closer to the edge of the crater, almost as if to join it, the figure made its appearance known. I do not know where the figure stopped and the sky began. Its arms outstretched displayed what could have been miles of darkness hanging from its limbs. My soul was filled with dread on a scale I’d never imagined. I can only assume the other men felt the same as they looked, stunned, in pure horror. A gunshot fired a meter away from me aimed not at someone else. As Levi crested the edge of the crater the trumpets roared, consuming our senses; a triumphant score for an incomprehensible abomination. He reached his hand out yearningly towards the sky. In only a moment, there was silence. The trumpets had subsided, the drums had ceased, and the roar of the battle around us had stood still. In the instant that the deafening noises came to a halt, Levi was gone. There was no fanfare, no goodbyes, nothing. He was gone; as if he was cut out of existence itself. I stared at the spot he had previously stood for an eternity. The sound of gunfire returned and I was dragged from the crater. I do not know what to make of this happening. The men who witnessed this have been silent as of writing this, as have I. Returning to camp to find solace has proved ineffective. Upon seeing the doctor I’ve been given the diagnosis of shell shock, but I know that to be wrong. I write this letter to you in hopes Levi’s memory will still subsist as any trace of him here has since gone missing. This will be my last correspondence.