lotstradamus:

“Dearest Mother,
[…] It is a great life. I am more oblivious than alas! yourself, dear Mother, of the ghastly glimmering of the guns outside & the hollow crashing of the shells.
There is no danger down here – or if any, it will be well over before you read these lines.
I hope you are as warm as I am, as serene in your room as I am here; and that you think of me never in bed as resignedly as I think of you always in bed. Of this I am certain you could not be visited by a band of friends half so fine as surround me here.
Ever Wilfred X”

— Wilfred Owen’s last letter, 31st of October 1918. He died on the 4th of November, 100 years ago today, exactly one week before the signing of the Armistice.