A Letter from the Trenches

by Molly Jones (MT)

This letter was produced as a creative writing prep for Shells set on the nature of warfare and experiences of soldiers on the Western Front in the First World War

Dear Annie, It seems decades ago that I waved goodbye to you aboard the ferry, but time insists it was only a matter of weeks! Whitstable is distant to me now, comparative to the chaos of trench warfare, but I know that the day we sat together beneath the oak tree discussing our futures shall remain with me for a long time. I suppose fighting for my country with the lads of Whitstable is mine. Of course, I am young and inexperienced, but it is difficult to believe that Jerry is just 500 yards away. We haven’t seen any real fighting yet, that’s why, as this is only our third week out here, but we’re still getting used to the duties of living in the trenches. My dear Annie, it is like I am at school again!: Stand-to at dawn, tidying the trench at eight, a nap after dinner and Stand-to again at six. The chap who’s head of our battalion, Lieutenant Colonel Wilson, has seen a fair bit of fighting in his time – he was involved in the Boer and the Boxers – so he’s not soft, but of course in the circumstances that’s not a bad thing. I want to thank you for the socks and tobacco you sent with your last letter. A few of the men in our battalion have been having trouble with their feet, probably because of the mud and cold. But you can sleep easy knowing my feet are cosy and warm! Annie, I know I shouldn’t write this but I must tell someone. I’m finding it hard to justify our presence here. I know, I know what I said before, but you must believe me when I write it was all a lie. And I’ve realised too late. No, how could I have written that? It’s just the tiredness, my darling, I’m not concentrating. But I want you to know. The first two weeks were exciting and completely overwhelming. (This is why I have just now found time to respond to your letter). Right and wrong had no place in my head, nor any comprehension of purpose, the reason we are in France in the first place. As I have said, we follow a strict routine, and learning how to use our Lee-Enfields and keep them in order occupied most of my thoughts. You see, it was all such a rush, being kitted up and shipped over to France, finding our way here, and now, squatting down in our trenches and making preparations for the onset of winter. Some of the men who’ve been here three years or more have told me what to expect, and the prospects are not pleasant. My dear Annie, these past few paragraphs have been all too gloomy. I know the Hun are only holding out, what with all the heavy bombardment our troops have been subjecting them to over the last few months. Soon we will break through their lines, and I shall come home to you victorious, holding you in my arms again once more. We shall go dancing at the club, and afterwards dine at the finest restaurant in all of London. This I promise to you, my darling, because here on the front line, these dreams and hopes are all I have to cling to. Right now, the trench is silent, save for the gentle puff of Billy’s pipe. We are resting, because at six begin our duties around the trench. Some of the lads are getting a little restless with these, as they say they signed up for ‘actual fighting’, not just ‘women’s jobs’. I hope it’ll die down, but if it doesn’t I can foresee a major row with Wilson. My character, as you know, is obedient in nature, but even I am starting to get annoyed. Already, there have been some breakthroughs along the front, but we have barely seen the spike of a Hun helmet. I know you will not like to hear this, but I long for some action. The unbearable state of limbo: the silence kept for days suddenly smashed by the thunderous roaring of shells, on and on, is driving some of the lads to delirium. Knowing that amidst the madness, you are there with me, keeps me safe and sane. How is life back in Whitstable? Does Old Ronnie still go fishing at four every morning? Does the bakery still sell the ‘Whitstable bun’, the one you created? Time is drawing on, and I must get ready for Stand-to. There’s been a rumour we’re going over the top in a few days, but don’t worry your beautiful head about it, I’m sure there’s nothing in it. Give Joe and Harriet my love, and stay safe my darling. Let us pray the war will be over soon, and we will return and bring honour to Whitstable. All my love, Mick

A selection of other work produced for this task by (clockwise from top) Zara Brett, Emily Pack, Olya Bilyk and Victor Mali.