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Battlegrounds
Dear Mom and Dad,
It has been long since I have written, a year now I suppose. You must have been worrying and wondering what has happened to your only son. Is he dead? What has happened to him? Why hasn’t he written? It has been years now, and every moment of it has been a horrendous and horrific experience: rotting corpses everywhere, with stenches exceeding far beyond what a human being can bear; body parts scattered yards away from each other; seeing friends whom you once knew being blotted off the face of the earth, either by a bullet to the forehead or by missiles and bombs, which with one strike totally disintegrates the body, organs and body parts everywhere; and relentless rain does nothing but exacerbates the problem with mud puddles just reaching above your knees. It is extremely unbearable.
It has been two weeks now since the Germans invaded our bunker. Some of us managed to escape, but some weren’t so lucky. They were captured and held as prisoners and were later rounded up as Nazi targets. However, we managed to invade one of their bunkers and annihilated all that was before us. We later advanced to one of our trenches where we rested and regained strength. We were engaged in a cross fire that lasted for hours. This was another unbearable experience as many of our men were killed, corpses swimming in mud puddles and bombs and missiles launched endlessly. Nonetheless, with the few that were left, we managed to reach a small old ruined village called Melun. Guns could still be heard barking in the distance. It was very old and seemed desolate, no one was in sight.
Among the four of us three were trained snipers. All we could see were seemingly abandoned dilapidated buildings, beaten into ruins by bullets and bombs, uprooted earth, and abandoned war vehicles. Something never felt right. It all seemed too peaceful and quiet, and just at that moment, he was hit. A bullet to the back of the head was all it took for us to flee to the nearest old building we saw. From there we looked back at our fallen comrade, while noticing a figure in the distance way up in an old building. Knowing our location, gunshots began to rain. It was still daylight, around noon. Where we squatted had a large opening with three boards: one standing vertically and two ran horizontally across. It resembled a cross. How we needed guidance and prayer. A large board extended from the opening to the back of the ruin forming a bed. On it one of the snipers lay reloading his firearm, while my fellow comrade and I returned gunshots.
It went on for hours. Though, it seems as if they were all out of missiles and bombs because none was launched for the last hour. Soon as the crossfire began to fade, a huge explosion was heard in the distance, debris began to fly and human cries could be heard following the explosion. It was the French, our fellow comrades some how picked up our location and came to our rescue. Upon coming out of the ruin building we were greeted, but corpses could be seen distributed along the battleground. Some with organs pouring out of it, some with missing body parts, and some were even decapitated. However, not all were dead. Out of those alive were under excruciating pain with severe gashes to the head, and other serious injuries. The last few years has not been well, it is like a nightmare, practically living in mud with rotting corpses, seeing people dying horrendous deaths and the smell of sulfur in the air just makes life a living hell. This war is like hell on earth. How I long to lie in my comfy bed, all snuggled up with my pillow, and rising up in the morning to the sweet smell of coffee, playing soccer on the weekends with my friends au parc de Melun. How I long to see you guys. Continue to pray for me while I pray for humanity.
Your son, Marc
Battlegrounds, French snipers sheltered in the ruins of a village (CNP)
Dear Family
It has been a while since I have last written to you and that is because I have been away for a while, lost behind German enemy lines. We were sent on a sniper mission deep in the heart of German territory to take out high commanding officers and locate targets for our artillery to target. The House we stayed in seemed to have been a home that once belonged to a large Christian family, as there are many crucifixes place above the many bedrooms of the house. It did us well as there were many places to hide in it. Unfortunately, we could only stay there so long, as we believed we were spotted and had to move a few blocks away to an old restaurant. We were constantly moving about trying to keep ourselves from being located and possibly killed, a though that lingers in our minds every day. It was a long gruelling task, we started as three snipers and two scouts and returned home as two snipers and one scout. We could sometimes go for hours at a time without moving; in fear, that we would be spotted. The mission lasted longer than expected as we found ourselves surrounded with no place to escape. We went days without rations as we ran out to soon and had to resort to eating rats and anything else unlucky enough to scurry by us. One of the scouts even resorted to eating a dead German soldier because he had not eaten in so long. We finally made our escape, from the old rubble that was formerly a house, one night when the guards had split up away from our position. Overall, it was a very successful mission I killed five commanding officers, the highest of our group. Together we killed 13 officers and discovered two ammunition bunkers and a small airfield not to far away. We were honoured upon our return with all of us receiving a promotion and a weeks rest with hot showers, which I have been longing for. My commanding officer said to me that, with the work we do this war will be over in no time at all. We continue to take our rest here back at the barracks, with our hot meals and showers and cozy beds to sleep in it is a great change from the wooden floors and dirt I have been lying on for the last few days. We will be staying here for another three days and then its back in to the danger zone for me and my crew. I have over heard that with our next mission we might be able to have a shot at some really big time players in the German army. I hope our next mission will not be as gruelling as the last but as successful as it was. Pleas keep not only me but also our entire army in your hearts and prayers as this war will be a bloody one. Hope to hear from you soon.
Your Loving Son
Cory
Dear Mom, Dad and Little Bobby;
It’s Adam here and I just sat down to write you folks a letter telling you how I’m doing. Well I’m stationed here in beautiful France. The people here are very nice to us. The food isn’t anything like your cooking mom, but it gets us full.
My birthday here was ok. Can you believe I’m 18 already. Thanks for the card by the way. I got the card a couple days after but it was really nice of you guys to send me one, lots of guys here don’t get anything for their birthday. There are a lot of guys my age here and some even younger, there was one kid that couldn’t have been older than 15. The mail takes a while to get to us, but it does get to us some how out here so keep sending please, I love hearing from you all. Bobby for your throw, just keep your fingers apart a little this will make the football spin more and move faster. Hope that helps but I think I got your letter too long the season might be over. How did you do in the season? Are you hustling hard? Sports are what everyone talks about around here. We talk about our favourite baseball and football players.
I just got finished unloading another supply truck. Now the trucks are coming almost two or three times a day. Some trucks are full with arms but other are filled with food. We can always manage to unload the food trucks faster. Everyone here has a Ross revolver and we practice with the revolvers a lot, but sometimes they jam. The Sergeant assures us it’s only a few that jam, he says they’re good guns to have.
Thongs are ok here, but just very muddy. My boots they gave me don’t do much. I’m really glad Mom you sent me some more socks they helped a lot. I haven’t been in action yet. We’re still preparing and practicing. Lots of the guys that have been in action are in pretty bad shape. They are covered head to toe in mud and clay. And I don’t want to scare you Mom, but some are coming back missing arms, legs, or having their faces melted off. But Sergeant says that those men are at the front lines and that I wont be up there. He says I’m too ‘green’ for the front lines.
So how is everything back home? How’s business dad? And how’s Rex? Boy do I miss that old mutt.
Well I have to go now, my break is over we still have half a truck left to unload. Tell everyone I’m safe and I miss them all. Tell Bobby to do well in his classes.
Love you all,
Your Soldier Son Adam
January 20th, 1915.
Subject: Dear Family
Summer has gone so soon. I just want to say that I
Love everybody back home
Over the deep seas.
Weather is slowly chaining here.
Lots of nice sunshine, but it’s still cold.
Yet I do miss a bit of snow. Yesterday,
Dinner time, I was so tired that I couldn’t stop
Yawning. I do not know why. May be I am tired.
I want to go back home, but
Nevertheless, I must stay home to fulfill my duty.
Good-bye everybody. I loved you all.
Marcus Philip Smithers.
Please read the first letter of each line
I chose this way of writing the letter because I have learned that when the soldiers wrote back home, it was often censored because they didn’t want the people back home to think that the war is a bad place. Therefore, many people wrote secret messages such as above to tell the family how they are really feeling. Therefore, the actual text maybe whole bunch of useless words, or have little relevance of the actual happenings.
Battlegrounds - Removing wounded men from the battle front
Dear Mom and Dad,
It is good to hear from you guys back home; it helps me get through the days knowing you guys still believe in me and are still praying. We just celebrated my new friend’s 17th birthday the other day. Can you believe I’ll be 17 soon; all I need for a present is being able to come home and see to guys. It has been a dreadful day. I had to put my friend on the train of the wounded. I’m unsure if he will be strong enough to make it. Please pray along with me for his well being. Also, pray for all those who have been wounded. It seems to me the wounded are coming in at a steady rate.
On a good note the weather is changing for the better, it hasn’t rained in a while and is becoming warmer now. The clothes that we receive from them help to keep the water in rather than out but you get used to it after a while. It is hard here and I miss you guys so much. The closest I can get to you right now is through mail so keep sending the letters; it really brightens up my day. It has been pretty quiet lately as we are still training a lot and preparing for when they try and charge us. The food that they supply isn’t that great but it does the trick, my stomach doesn’t hurt unless it is due to the anxious waiting time.
I’ve been trying to help out and work to keep from boredom lately. Helping those who seem to be struggling or just helping others out to get the job done quicker helps pass the time. Either way it helps the days go by faster and faster until I can come back home. Sleep is sparse here due to the amount of work to be done. Sometimes when you are sleeping you can hear guns being fired but it’s nothing to worry about, it is just spook fire to test our readiness. The other night it really was the enemy and we had to take care of that, and we did. I know you don’t like hearing about this but I just like to reinforce that fact that I, and my squad, can handle ourselves and that we will be coming home soon. But for right now I have a little bit of time to catch some shut eye so it was great hearing from you and keep them coming. Let everyone know I love them and just keep praying for me and my friends. Until next time, love you all.
Love,
Michael
Camp Life and Training
Dear Mom and Dad,
Hi it’s John…sorry I have not written to you since arriving here in Saskatchewan. We have been training non stop from dawn to dusk since the moment we stepped off the train, when reality hit most men. The train ride over was like on big party and everyone involved was completely oblivious to where we were going, yet alone what we would be doing when we got there.
Our First day of training started at 6 am when the bell was sounded to wake 300 or so men. After having a startling enough wake up call, just to make sure we were actually awake the whole camp went on what felt like a 2 hour jog. I was wishing that after every corner we ran around that the camp would be there but the camp seemed like it never existed. We were already down about 15 men and it wasn’t even breakfast time yet. The day couldn’t have ended any sooner but then again the next morning came way to fast. Waking up the next morning my body felt as if it were 1000 pounds, my muscles were so sore…I thought I was in shape but I guess not.
So far, all of our training days have been the same maybe learning a new skill every two to three days. My favourite one is grenade throwing. It just blows me away how such a little object can cause such damage. I feel so powerful with it in my hands, but it gives you such a rush when pulling the tab and tossing it as fast as you possibly can and as far as you can.
Mom, Dad…I love you so much and miss you so much. Please do not worry about me, I can handle this. Sorry my letter is not long we don’t have much time after out last training and lights out. I promise I will try to my best ability to write to you guys once a week. But I have to go. Bye I love you.
Your son,
John
April 7 1916
Dearest Rachel,
It has been days since I last wrote to you. I’m stuck in this god forsaken trench wet, hungry and I think I’m getting sick. For the past five or six days it has rained and we have exchanged plenty of fire with the Germans. Yesterday Joe died… He was shot in the head, and he just fell…he was gone just like that, there was no goodbye, no nothing just Joe dead on the ground and some of his blood on my face. The last couple of days have been hard after losing one of my best friends. Kris isn’t taking it well at all, he’s been crying the last two nights. It’s going to be hard without Joe, he was such a great friend and for him to be gone like that, no proper burial, nothing, just a bullet in his head, hurts us all. Even with the death of Joe, the only thing I think about is you… Rachel. Being so far away from you for so long is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. Every single day I wish for this war to be over, just so I can come see you, and be with you the one I love so much. I can’t get these butterflies out of my stomach Rachel, these butterflies of love, I miss you so much and that is what’s keeping me alive, I’m not just fighting for my country and the men beside me but Rachel I’m fighting so I can come home and be with you again. I miss holding you Rachel, I miss kissing you, and I miss singing with you…
Do you remember that day, in the summer of 09’? The rainy day? The day I fell in love with you… we kissed for hours in the rain I held you in my arms forever, never wanting to let go… well I do and i have been thinking about that exact day for the past five days. You’re the only woman I truly fell in love with and do love. You are keeping me alive Rachel…
How is everything at home? I hope all is well? How is your father still in the hospital? Or is he doing alright now? Tell him to be strong and let everyone know how much I miss them, and that I’m doing fine! I need you to do something for me Rachel… its not going to be easy, but I need you to tell Anne, I need you to tell her what happened to Joe, tell her he died a hero and he loves her, and that he will be waiting for her. That is all nothing more.
A lot of the guys have taken up smoking but not me Rach, I still haven’t smoked a day in my life. I know that all I need to stay alive is you, thinking about you, and having you to come home to, that is all I need. I will come home, you don’t have to worry about me because I need you.
I really wish I was at home with you… the conditions here are terrible. I have to sleep sitting, sometimes laying down but the trenches are filled with rats and water, and dead bodies so everyone usually just sleeps sitting, if we get any sleep at all. There is gun fire and artillery fire constantly. The trenches reek of odor, dead bodies, urine, rats and the soggy water contribute to this. I’m getting through it though baby, you’re getting me through it.
I hope we move out of this trench soon its really starting to get hard. But this is where I have to end my letter, firing has started, its night now and all you can see is the fire coming from everyone’s guns, I need to help my brothers…
I Love You Rachel. I will come back to you and see you when I get home. Take care of yourself.
Truly Yours,
Andrew
P.S- Write back soon! Your letters keep me alive.
(trenches)
Picture Chosen:
Battlegrounds > Removing wounded men from the battle front (CNP)
Dear Mom & Dad,
It's been really rough out here. I don't think I can stand it anymore. There are so many nights where I pray, hoping that one day I can come home alive. I'm a mess; I can't focus on anything anymore. We've lost so many soldiers, friends, family. It's a very devastating experience being out here, fighting for my country. I'm scared every second of each day knowing that I can die at any moment.
I hope everything at home is going well for you. I miss the family so much. I guess you don't realize what you have until it's taken away from you. The war itself is such a disaster. I'm scared that I'm going to end up as one of the soldiers under a blanket on a one-way trip back home.
It's cold every single night that we sleep in the trenches, and I fear that while we sleep we could easily be bombarded with gunfire, explosives, or one-on-one combat. It hurts a lot knowing I was convinced this would be easier than it is. Killing another human being is hard enough, let alone being targeted as an enemy.
I hope this war ends very soon so I can come home to you both. I don't want you to cry because I was killed in action, I want you to cry tears of joy because I'm coming home when this is all done. Please write back.
I love you.
Yours Truly,
Jordan
Battle grounds, removing wounded men from the battle front, medical.
Dear James,
Oh darling, I don't know if I want you here with me or if I'm glad that you're away. How lucky you are to be injured. I'm sorry dear, you know I don't mean it that way, I wish that I could go home to look after you but I'm afraid that I’ll be stuck here forever, tending after these men. Oh the horror, dear! I could explain to you the condition that this one man, Officer McCart is in but I’m not sure that I could describe it in any language that I know. I look at these men, destroyed and needing help to go to the bathroom and it terrifies me, how could these men, these big, strong men be so small and so weak? How is it at home? Does everyone know what’s happening? I don’t know how they could, because we haven’t had anymore fleets of men join us, or at least they haven’t ended up in my ward, which would be a good thing. Darling, I don’t care about these things, I don’t know why I write about them, I fear that I could be losing my mind. I hear bombs going off every second but I don’t know if they are real, I don’t know if my mind is tricking me or if bombs are really exploding every moment… I don’t know which would be worse. I hope you can read my writing my sweet, I’m afraid my hands haven’t stopped trembling since the man with only one arm ran in screaming and shaking, splashed blood everywhere. When I feel the shakes and quakes of the world beneath me I fear for my life, what if it’s the enemies, storming in to finish off the half dead? What if I’m just another number to kill? Oh James, write to me whenever you can, write to me every day, twice a day or more, until your hand aches. I’ve no idea what is happening at home. Do I want to know? Of course I do James, you must tell every single thing. Is it green? Are flowers starting to bloom? Do flowers even exist anymore? Everything is wiped clean here, I’m sure you remember, I’m sure you’ll never forget. Everything is dead, the people, the grass, the trees, the sky is empty of all birds. I’ve given up on going out for those small walks to keep in shape, I’ve grown fat, dear James, but I couldn’t drag myself out into those muddy fields, there is no way I could. I used to get stuck in that thick mud outside and it reminded me of how I’m stuck in this awful, wet, dark and dirty place. I thought this would’ve been over with by now. Why are they so hard to beat? The bombs hurt my chest, they pound inside my ribs and when I look around and see that I’m still whole and not blown into thousands of tiny pieces, I start to breathe again and I think the pain will go away, but it never does. Do you think it ever will? The noise is so loud and so constant that when it’s all over (if it ever ends at all) I fear that my ears will explode from the silence. If I ever get home, please make sure that it will never be quiet, talk to me, whisper to me every second of the day, every moment of the night, never fall asleep because they never fall asleep. I wonder where it all comes from… Where do all these men come from? So many men have died in my ward alone but there’s always more men coming in. Where do they get the energy to shoot, run and kill? I’m sure they don’t sleep, how else would the bombs be going off at three o’clock in the morning? Where are all of these weapons coming from, these bullets? Who is making them? Do they ever sleep? Oh James, tell me to stop, I don’t care about these things, but I’d rather write than sleep. My dreams scare me to no end, it seems as if right when my head hits my pillow the monsters come out to kill me. They yell and bite and try to grab me but they haven’t caught me yet. I don’t know what will happen if they ever did, there’s many men here that live in a dream quite like mine except they get caught, I don’t think my mind could comprehend that. It’s been weeks since I heard from you last, dear you know how much that frightens me. I’ve just read over my letter to you because I was going to end it but now I can’t. I sound like a child; I couldn’t send you a letter like this, where I am so small and fragile, afraid of anything that moves. How dreadful. I don’t know how you work yourself up to read all of my letters, and to think that this is the only way I can talk to you. When I was told you were going home due to your injuries, I thought that writing you letters would be so romantic, but it’s not so romantic anymore. I can’t feel those hugs and kisses you send me. I can’t feel your breath speaking those words that you write. I can’t sleep without your shape beside me. I can’t bear it any longer dear, it’s not what I thought it would be. Why is everyone trying to make it something that it’s not? It’s not easy! It’s not funny! It’s not satisfying. People die. People die every day, in front of me, right in front of me, and I can’t stop it! When will this damn war end? When everyone dies? Only when there’s no one left to fight it? How many people live on this earth James? I can’t remember the number… how many would be left? I’m sorry that I talk like this but I can’t erase what I have written because it’s the only real thing I’ve been able to express of late. I’m sorry that I can’t be strong for you dear but I will hold out, I’ll fix people so that we can win, dear. I love you darling, don’t forget that. I will be home soon. I promise.
All of my love, and more.
Your dear wife, Kate.
Battlegrounds, On Dead Man Hill (Le Mort Homme), near Verdun (CNP)
Dear Mom, and Siblings, (November 16th, 1917)
It has been many night, and many days. I lose more hope for every breath I take. It saddens me that this is someone’s idea of achieving freedom. I wish I was with you right now. I know I said that I would make it by Christmas, but now, nothing is for sure anymore. I always thought that I would never become a person to ever think of suicide, and nothing had been running through my mind as suicide has. I miss the times when I would cook with you mom, and build racks for you to put your food on. I miss taking care of my little sisters. My father is doing horrible missing all of you, and he told me to tell that he would do his best to make it home and give you a back breaking hug. Sorry to tell you of the unfortunate news, mom, but the reason of why I am speaking on the behalf of my father, is because he lost right arm and his left hand. They can not send him home, because we are low on supplies.
We are low on everything, supplies, weapons, ammunition, soldiers, hope, vehicles, and breath. We are up to our necks with clay, mud, and other’s crap. My battalion is one of the few battalions left in west of France. I know this is hard to read, but it just as hard to write, and I have to face reality and I don’t think that I’m going to see you again. We are kind of surrounded, and it doesn’t look like we are going to get reinforcements any time soon.
I really thought it was going to be as easy as everyone made it look like at first. I bet you anything that none of my battalion mates had any idea that it was going to be like this. It is different practicing shooting picture targets. I absou
(November 17th, 1917)
This is a continuation from yesterday’s letter. I couldn’t finish it because we had a surprise attack, and I was asked to take position in the turrets and defend my battalion. I actually killed a man. When I shot him with the turret, he gazed into my eyes as he was lying on the ground breathing his last breaths. I realized that these men are just like us, forced to kill us for the leaders’ corrupt plans. We are the same people, and yet I took his life. As crazy as this may sound, what happened yesterday was lucky, because the Germans lost their position attacking us with such confidence, and I think I, God willingly, will see you again.
Yet, as lucky as it was, that man wouldn’t leave me alone. Every time I close my eyes to sleep, I just see him there staring at me with such sadness and despair.
After taking over the German position, we found a well placed trench where we spent the night. Mom, I really love you and miss you with all my heart, and I am sure my father speaks that with volumes. Hopefully we are going to meet once again. Tell my sisters that I will send them their own letters when I move into the next position. Ill see you later mom.
Your loving son and husband
George and Charles
Your Notable Quotes for "Photographs are worth one thousand words"
The solider letters ranged from powerful to comical. I'm not entirely sure if that was the intention. Either way, full marks were given to the 10 letter writers.
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