World War I: Letter Home

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Dear Mum,

How are you getting on? I hope that Dad's cold is better. Send my best

wishes to everyone!

I am writing to you from the barracks of our regiment. My training is

going well; I have many good friends here, and although the training I have been

getting is necessary, I cannot wait to finish it, and get out to the Front,

because the chances are that the war will be over within a few months, and I

want to get a good chance to have my go at the Boche.

All kinds of rumours are spreading through the regiment about the things

that the Boche are doing. They are supposed to have committed all sorts of

atrocities in Belgium, such as butchering defenceless, innocent women and

children, and also raping and pillaging.

I cannot understand why anyone would not want to take their place in

Kitchener's New Army; it makes me angry that cowards should be able to duck out

of their responsibility to their country. The whole idea of conscientious

objection seems absurd to me; it is just a front used to cover cowardice.

Conchies don't object to war, they are just scared that they might get hurt.

They should see this war for what it is: a chance to help and serve their

country, and earn some glory, both for themselves, and for Britain.

The Boche needs to be taught a lesson; they cannot expect to just march

around the globe, invading countries for no reason, other than selfishness. If

we do not step in and act decisively soon, who knows where they will stop?

How can the army act decisively if many of the men who should be

soldiers decide to stay at home because they are scared?

Those who claim that their religion stops them from fighting are in the

wrong as well; I am a religious man, and God has said to me (and I believe him)

that He agrees with our fighting the war; God is on our side!

Lots of Love

------- END FIRST LETTER

Dear Mum,

I am writing this letter to you from one of the support trenches, about

half a mile back from the front line. I am sorry that I have not been able to

write properly to you for the past few weeks, but you can probably guess how it

is out here. Everywhere you look, dead bodies are piling up, as we (our

battalion) sit here, there is an almost constant flow of dead and injured

soldiers from the front. When you hear about the glorious victories achieved by

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