7th April, 1915

My darling! The longer the time since I left home, the greater naturally becomes my homesickness, and now I have reached a state when I can think about absolutely nothing but home and especially you. How much worse is anguish of mind than physical pain. How often did one wish in battle in the hail of bullets, to be mercifully released from one's mental torment by a bullet. Here, however, there is no escape. Nothing but to think all the time of the eternity before liberation may come. I say "may" because things may, God forbid, get even worse! And in such torment the days pass, the first week of April is over, we are further and further into the year and I sit here suffering and waiting. And how do you feel? A terrible thought! Add to this the cruel fact that I am still without news from you.

I sincerely hope that you have received my letters and that you know about my fate. What torture you must have suffered though when the news from me stopped coming! This must have lasted quite a few weeks, I am sure. When I think what you must have gone through, my darling, I could cry. On top of that you are landed with all the worries, the flat, caring for the kids, etc. My only consolation is that I know that you are with people dear to you, surely you could not be at a better place.

I am personally in good shape, I look really well and cannot complain about my physical health. When now and then my temperament breaks through and I play my silly jokes, this is followed by a reaction when I accuse myself of heartlessness and I soon sink into depressed brooding again. But by far the strongest of my feelings is my longing and the ever increasing realization that I can exist only as the shadow of your sun, that I belong to you and that I can only be a human being again when I am with you. God give this to be the case soon. Farewell my little mouse!

© The estate of Otto Feldmann: Monica Lanyado, Tzafrah Shushan and Aya Shochat