It's pages filled with messy and rough handwriting, some of it speaks of the horrors of what he saw while in other parts, he talks about more mundane things, such as lunch. "I had spaghetti with meat sauce again today. I swear they give me that on purpose, I mean this is the fourth time this week that I've eaten that garbage. I tried to trade with one of the other guys but he wouldn't go for it so I had to make do. I miss Ma's cooking, she was no expert by any means but man, that woman could really cook a good chicken pot pie."
My Grandpa wasn't a poet by any means but when he wrote you could almost swear you were there on the battlefield with him.