Work Text:
December 10, 1916
My love
George
Dear George,
How are you, friend? I hope this war is treating you better than it is I. My family at home badgers me for letters, and I know it is only because they are worried for me, but I tire of the constant need for updates. Writing to you is better, because I can speak of things that I don’t have the heart to tell my parents and sister.
This is why I dread their letters: there is nothing new or notable to speak about. Every day is the same here. The trenches smell of death. My feet are always cold. In general, the winter weather that this month brought is freezing and unappreciated by everyone on the front lines. I see, sometimes, soldiers from the other side, across No Man’s Land, shivering and huddled in blankets, just like we are on our side. I pity them… but I can’t control this war. Nevertheless, we press on.
Sleep is hard to come by. Our meat rations were cut last month and they’ve been dwindling ever since… I only fear what will continue to come. Nothing is fresh. Once, I ventured into the kitchen and saw the huge vats that they use to prepare the food… The thought makes me shudder now, George, and to think of it while I eat my meals—well, I try not to.
But, regardless of all that, don’t feel bad for me. I am fairing alright—better than some here—and I’m more worried about you than myself. I know your sickness keeps you at home, and I expect an answering letter telling me of your condition! Although, a small part of me is grateful for your illness… I would never wish that you would have to go through this life.
Something I can admit to only you, George, is how the constant shelling makes me quiver like I did when I was a child, and thunder would sound outside. Do you remember? I hated storms; how the rain and wind would shake the house and light would flash outside. It pains me, slightly, to think of childhood with you. It feels like so long ago. What am I, only 22? My birthday has passed in these trenches.
Isn’t that odd? My first birthday without you. It was not a good feeling, George. I wished I could see your face and the candles my parent’s might light on a cake… The singing and the games. I miss you I miss it all.
I’ll move on to something else—let me tell you about the people I’ve met since my last letter. I’ve met a man named Nicholas that I spend most of my time with, he’s a year or two older than me, maybe around your age? I’ve joined his friends for meals and playing cards—his classmates from school who all enlisted together. There’s Darryl, who has glasses and seems like the exact wrong type of man for the front lines—don’t get me wrong, he is just as dedicated a soldier as any, but he’s just a sweetheart who I feel shouldn’t have to see this kind of violence… Nicholas’s best friend, Karl, who is tall and I hope never meets an untimely end because from the short time I’ve observed the two, I don’t know if Nicholas could live without him… William, who is quiet and introspective and whose glasses make him resemble an owl, and Alexander, who is too loud for his own good but no one complains because he keeps our spirits alive. There are also two younger boys who we believe lied about their age to enlist early, together, and I hope they leave the front soon, for their parents’ sake. They are trouble-makers by the names of Thomas and Tobias.
Along with all those that I’ve met, everyone carries with them the stories of those they left behind at home. Darryl’s childhood friend, deployed elsewhere; the girl that William’s parents want him to marry but he hopes to only keep as a friend (that poor man); William’s father who he speaks of often and seems to miss a great deal but won’t admit; and the younger boys’ friend who they left behind. I can tell that Tommy and Toby—as everyone calls them—feel awful for leaving their friend behind, and they won’t say why he wouldn’t or couldn't come with them.
I speak often of you, myself
I miss you, my parents, sister, and everyone from the neighborhood. I am glad to have made friends here, though. They keep my spirits higher and I think if I hadn’t broken into their group then my time here would be a lot worse than it has been. They make me laugh when I didn’t think that was possible anymore I need it. William is always interesting conversation, Darryl keeps my hopes alive, Karl and Nicholas are proof that the trenches can’t kill every good thing that enters them, and the trouble-makers bring the light that we all need here.
When you receive this letter, write back as fast as you can tell my family I love them and pass along what you’d like (you know the things I wouldn’t want them to know), and make sure to write back. Your letters remind me there is life outside the trenches
I love you more than I can write in a letter
Please stay safe and away from the war
I wish you could save me from this
I hope against hope that you are safe and keeping well,
Clay