There is a great sense of comradeship here. I saw a man run on to the battlefield, risking his life, to rescue another injured soldier. It is a good thing I came. I would have felt guilty if I didn’t. Seeing other men marching out with oodles of pride and patriotism. They soldiers looked so glamorous, marching down the streets in the new, clean uniforms, and I wanted to be like them. Not like the men who didn’t go. They had been given white feathers, a sign of cowardly behavior.
Despite what everyone says, I feel I have been lied to. When I marched down the streets and saw people cheering and waving flags, when I read the poem about war being like a game, I thought it would be great, but it is far from that. Firstly I have never seen a dead person. Now the ones that I see, are not just dead, but mutilated. We have to go over the top of the trenches, and advance to gain territory, even under heavy fire. The general says go, and we have to go, regardless of weather we die or not. It’s like we a just pawns, not an individual life form. We are there to be used, and nothing more.
After our last advance, we have not moved any further. We have just been waiting. The waiting is very tedious and scary. We do not know when the Germans are going to attack. The food is terrible. I see my friends dying around me. And the worst part is, they are not dying honorably; fighting for their country, instead the are dying from cold, starvation, and the extremely poor hygienic conditions. There are rats everywhere. The smell is terrible. The constant smell of urine and faces is dreadful.
It has been raining non-stop for the last week. We are sitting ankle deep in mud, and everything is wet and cold.
About a month ago there were gas attacks, like I have never seen before. “Put on your masks now!” the general shouted. We all scuttled and managed to get our masks on, before the gas choked us to death. Johnny wasn’t so lucky. He dropped his mask and that was the end of him. I just stood and watched my poor friend die. I could do nothing. He was choking on the lethal green smoke. I was told to “Just leave him. You can’t do nothing! Lets go!”
To end my letter on a positive note to you, there is word spreading around the trenches that the war will be over by Christmas. So if all goes well I will see you again soon
Yours sincerely
Simon
