War Letter

This is a letter written to his father by his son, fighting in the trenches during WWI.

June 29, 1916

 

Father,

 

     I’ve written this separate letter to you so as not to alarm mother, but so that you could still be informed of the hardships we’ve had to endure here.

My platoon has been moved to the trenches along the Western Front. It’s been only a few days and already soldiers have been injured and killed; we cannot escape the stench of decaying bodies and feces that seems to linger in the air along with the actual rotting corpses that seem to frown at the prospect of more fighting long after the colour has drained from their faces and the gunfire has stopped. John’s arm had to be amputated as a result of an infected battle wound. He is due to be sent home soon. Thankfully, Andrew and I continue to stay strong and unharmed, give or take a few minor scrapes and bruises.

     The conditions here are terrible. Due to the mud and dampness the trenches have begun to feel like a mud hole making it impossible to live in. Nevertheless, we are stuck here, cold and wet and scared. To make matters worse, disease spreads like wildfire here due to the lack of hygiene and unsanitary conditions. Some of my fellow soldiers have died not by the hands of our enemies but from the terrible illnesses that have developed here in the trenches. The rest of us itch constantly at the lice breeding in our hair and clothes. We suspect the lice may be the cause of the fevers some of the troops have been experiencing though nothing has been proven yet.

     Those of us who have been fortunate enough to survive these brutal conditions and horrendous battles still live in fear of the thought that we may never return home. It sometimes seems as though both sides are fighting a losing battle and that this war might never end. These thoughts have only helped heighten the despair of trench warfare for us soldiers.

     Besides the raids at dawn, the swarms of rats that seem to accumulate more and more each day to feast on human remains, and the daily routine of avoiding exploding shells and dodging bullets, there is one advantage to living in the trenches, and that’s been the hot meals that we’ve had delivered to us from the field kitchens. Some of the food I’ve received here has been, believe it or not, rather luxurious. Unfortunately, some of the rats here have occasionally contaminated our food and they continue to grow and multiply at an alarming rate.

     I am afraid, though it’s not the dying that scares me, it’s the killing.

 

           Love,

                Will