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I miss being home now more than ever; the weather here hasn’t been very good lately. Living in these trenches is really taking its toll on me. I have walked passed my friends rotting bodies’ everyday for the last few. The trenches are wet and filled with rats. Everyday I have to clear the rats out of my bags and clothes because they destroy them. The smell is starting to get to me, along with the shellfire over my head. I can’t sleep at night because of it. Some of the men are going crazy, shaking and screaming, the most unbearable screams. I know I will be able to forever hear those screams that make me cringe. I got a piece of scrap in my side the other day, which meant I had to pay a visit to the health facilities yesterday. They were full of men, some dying, others so injured I knew they just wanted to die. Some men had their faces blown apart, limbs missing, cuts, and bruises. The place wasn’t very clean but I knew the nurses were doing their best. All I did was get in and out as fast as I could. They stitched me up quick and I was back on the front lines. They don’t have the best health care here but it will have to do I suppose. There are woman here just like you, young and small. They usually work in the hospital like places, driving ambulances or being a nurse. Probably a horrible job I’d say, watching the men fighting for our country dying, several, everyday. The horrible injuries you would have to see everyday must just leaves scares in your mind. I think I’d rather be on the front lines that working as a nurse trying my best to save the lives of these men, and often not being able too. Although I’m sure there accommodations are a little better. I can’t believe I’m fighting on the front lines in The Battle of Vimy Ridge. We have been doing well lately, capturing a strategic position. All the four Canadian divisions are here fighting together against the Germans. We have been using tunnels, secret ones, to tunnel underground and get close to the Germans to attack. I think we might be victorious in this one. Hope to be home soon my love.
Dear john I hope mom and dad are still doing okay, I would never think id miss the smell of a home cooked meal this badly. We have recently taken over a front line trench that reeks of decomposing bodies from our allied soldiers. I luckily have not gotten itchie-coos yet so I’m trying to look on the bright side. Rain rain rain for the past 3 days we are all having trouble moving about these trenches especially with our feet so sore. None the less I am so thankful for what you recently sent for Christmas I’m limiting myself with the cigs to three a day, the chocolate on the other hand I have already eaten all of. I have been praying every morning and night for your guys’ safety and well being tell Sammy to stay in school he doesn’t need to come fight here with me ,the war will be over soon and Id rather come home to see him with an education than find him missing a limb on a stretcher board. I am sorry I cannot make this letter longer but our troop was just told to were going to be making a attack soon.
Dear Mother and Father, it has been months since I have last seen you two, and I am counting the days for this terrible war to end. I have just served my four days rest from the trenches. We have a system where the men in the firing and supporting trenches exchange places every forty-eight hours. After a four days’ of work we retire for four days and a new set of troops come in and we repeat. My four days in the trenches were quite quiet, with little to no contact with the enemy. The most action filled part was on the third day. We were in our trenches at dawn when suddenly we could see massive explosions ahead of us. Our commander ordered ‘Over the top!’, so we all ran out of the trenches and ran straight ahead into gunfire. We were in the open, the air seemed alive with bullets and you could here slight buzzing noises pass your head, I still can’t get that noise stuck out of my head. Eventually we gained a couple hundred feet and we set ourselves back into another set of trenches for another day. Those four days in the trenches could not compare to Aprill 22nd, at the Second Battle of Ypres. This was the first action that us Canadians have seen as troops in the Great War, and I really wish that I could un see it. We were all getting ready for battle taking cover, but there was an east wind blowing towards our French and Canadian lines. I’m not sure how many there were, but there are rumors of the Germans opening over 5,000 chlorine filled gas cylinders into our line. The whole air was tainted with the acrid smell of chlorine that caught at the back of men’s throats and filled their mouths with a metallic taste. Behind the gas-cloud came the advancing Germans coming towards us. This was the scariest moment of my life and I am lucky to be alive. There were more than 6000 Canadian causualties, I was lucky enough to just slightly sprain my ankle. I have to admit on the bright side of this war, there have been many technological advances for us. On my four days of rest I was on the airstrip with my comrads and I talked to one of Canada’s most famous pilots, his name was Billy Bishop. He was flying an Avro 504 Aircraft, which could reach a speed of 175 miles and hour and could carry up to 3 tons of bombs. Billy was a killing machine, with a record of over 70 airplanes he had destroyed. It was such an honour to meet a man who has served his country so well. As each day passes, in the distance I can see enemy German Zeppelin’s flying in the air. There are rumors that they can reach over 16,000 feet. They are very hard to take down and they can carry a sufficient amount of bombs. I am hoping to be home for Christmas.
Today our battalion was shipped out from our camp four miles South of Vimy Ridge. We woke up early to the sound of lieutenants yelling and blowing horns, and we grabbed supplies and started marching. In the past 3 months, I have witnessed and experienced more pain and suffering than I could ever imagine. You have no idea what it is like to make friends with fellow soldiers and then have them disappear forever, not knowing if they’re dead, dying or lost in this wasteland we are fighting for. The days are usually quiet when we are resting at our camps, but the thought that at any moment we can be in the middle of war haunts my thoughts. I find it hard to sleep and it doesn’t help that some nights are spent in trenches surrounded by other men, some of which are screaming with pain and calling for help. The past week has been slow and everybody seems to be recovering and regaining strength, but the sound of horns this morning broke the silence and hinted in the sign of a bloody battle. I’m glad that I found the time to write a letter back home, and I intend to see all of you when I return.
The war on the front lines is hell. The trenches aren’t even trenches anymore they are just holes from artillery that are filled with water, bodies, and has just turned into mud. The food isn’t good at all, you barely get any sleep because of all the shells dropping. The morale of the man is low because no one wants to fight anymore, especially in these conditions. The hospitals are doing the best they can, lots of females medics and nurses in the hospital. Canadian troops are holding there grounds very well and be a very effective force. The biggest issue that we have had is the miss communications from command or just bad leadership. Sometimes they will lead us into enemy lines and occasionally our own artillery fire.
This is the first chance I have gotten to write, as it has been a complete downpour since I arrived. The trenches have turned into pools of mud and water. Everyone is soaked up to their waists and have no dry clothes. Since the rain is so heavy, there have been no planes flying overhead to perform reconnaissance, or try to shot us, so that is a plus. Our battalion has since lost morale of Vimy, as the conditions are depressing. Many have taken up smoking to help calm themselves, but everyone is having trouble keeping matches dry. The orders we are receiving are not even close to as organized or effective as Vimy, but there is no chance in leadership. I had to be taken to a makeshift hospital, from shrapnel, but not serious enough to be sent home. The nurses and doctors seem to have strong minds, from all the injured people coming in. They are constantly working with men who have lost limbs etc. I have to stop writing, we’ve been ordered “Over the top!” I may not write again.
Jerry Henderson 20 from Vancouver BC Fought in the Battle of Vimy Ridge
Dear Mother and Father,
I have made it to France and have gotten my first look at the front lines. I’m writing from my new dugout. I have to tell you it’s not what I expected when I imagined signing up for war. But I’m here now and will hopefully be home soon. I’ll write short entries on my letters and try to send them home every few months.
Went have a routine in the trenches, it goes like this. We get up, and go ‘Stand To’ it’s where we stand a half an hour before dawn and wait for German attack and so far the Fritz haven’t attacked yet. Probably because he knows we’re waitin for him. Then we go back to our dugout and have breakfast. Then we wait for orders. It’s pretty boring here once you get used to the shell-fire and gun shots. I met Tom here, we play cards together while we wait.
I saw my first aeroplane today and boy is it a sight to see. I heard that the planes are for information gathering only but I’m not sure. I’m thinking of joining the British Royal Flying Corps. I have always wanted to fly.
We’re getting ready for battle and the men are getting restless. We’ve been doing drills for the attack on Fritz but I can’t say much more about that. General Byng has even been down to our dugout to tell us the plan. I even got a map for myself.
The attack is a soon and this’ll probably be my last chance to write for a while. We’re all gearing up and getting confident for battle. We’ve got the plan memorized and practiced to perfection. Everyone has worked hard and efficiently at the drills. I’ll write again after our victory over the Huns.
Letter Home Hey mom, when I first enlisted to go to war I didn’t picture it was going to be like this. From the looks of all the campaigns back home it didn’t seem like it was going to be this full of death and brutality. They made it seem like you would be strolling through some fields over in Germany but in reality were laying in shell craters filled with water for hours on end. I see death everywhere. I went out with a platoon to hold the line and there were only 2 of us to come back. I want this war to be over so I can come home and see everybody again. I talk to you soon.
It’s only been a couple of months since I’ve last seen you all but it feels like so much longer than that. I must tell you that I’m proud to be serving my country in battle, but it’s nothing like they said it would be. It’s much worse. The worst of it all is when we’re in the trenches. Everything is wet and filthy and the smell is something you wouldn’t believe. It’s been raining nonstop lately, which definitely does not help. The odor is a combination of rotting flesh and wet dog. It’s truly unbearable. We get cigarettes whenever we can in an attempt to mask the smell. It barely does anything, but it’s better than nothing. I’ve seen so many men run out into the mud and fire. I don’t think it’s the best solution to anything but you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do. I really admire the doctors and nurses in the treatment center. Without them we wouldn’t have a hope. It warms my heart to know that someone would risk his or her lives just to try and save someone else’s. But then again, that’s kind of what our soldiers are doing, isn’t it? I keep picturing the day when I get to come home and see all of you. It will be sunny and all of you will be there to greet me and celebrate with me. I’ll be counting down the minutes. Hopefully that day comes soon. I love you all.
I would like to tell you that I am physically as fine as I can be, aside from a few cuts and bruises, and that I was fortunate enough to survive the battle at Vimy Ridge. Us fellows at Vimy Ridge were much more fortunate than the lads at the Somme, and Passchendaele, due to the fact that our leader, General Currie, was very organized and effective with his planning and all of us were trained for this battle specifically and issued maps. The raid was successful as all of us attacked on timed intervals in accordance with the howitzers. This technique, courtesy of General Currie, is called the Creeping Barrage.
Life in trenches is deplorable, to say at the least, I will not call it hellish for your sake. The trenches are filled with mud, due to the weather, and overridden with rats and lice. I ‘ve been lucky to escape the wrath of the lice, because I shaved off my hair, but the rats cause me to be weary every time I put some food in my mouth or get some shuteye.
Us Canadians have been quite an affective group. What the French failed to in repeated attempts, we achieved in one, at Vimy. Our boys won a hard fought battle at Passchendaele, even if the Huns got it back; we’ve got to give the boys credit.
When I signed up, I did it because of my patriotism, my love for the Homeland, and the Motherland. But know, when I look around at the villages and towns around us, the abandoned houses, the blown up churches, I realize that while I am defending the homeland, I am destroying someone else’s. The French border is littered with the shells that felled our fellows, and also the bodies of many of the soldiers who were slaughtered, some, for a cause they could no longer remember. To keep myself from losing my mind, I remind myself everyday, through the rumble of the bombs, and screams of the dying, that I am fighting for you.
I’ve seen more people dead than alive everyday. We’ve been staying in trenches for days waiting for the attack we’ve been hearing out. The fat rats are eating the little amount of food we get. These rats are huge from stealing our food to eating all the rotting corpses. We’ve made a game out of these rats, killing them and throwing them. Walking around on the field, you see arms and legs with no bodies to be seen. They’re pieces of bodies and clothes that stretch for miles. Many of the man became insane from what they’ve seen to the bombs exploding. They bombed a graveyard yesterday. All the corpse awakened from the dead, if that’s possible. I’ve learned to not get close to anybody, cause they’ll probably die tomorrow. The medical keep telling people they’re A1. People who are missing an eye to a foot are getting sent back to the front. We are running out of people. There are very many pretty nurses. I couldn’t imagine dealing with all us man. They watch so many die and suffer. Not a fit job for woman, but id rather see their face in my last minute. The only way your not guaranteed to get sent back to the front is if you’ve already gone east. They gave us a big meal yesterday. Probably expected to be most of our last meals, and it was for the most of them. Its been raining for days. I miss home. I feel like I’m losing my mind. The general that’s assigned to my group is so mean. He has no idea what its like at the front, I don’t know how he got his position. I got trench mouth, the doctor just tells me to wash my mouth out everyday. But being stuck in the trenches I don’t get much water. There is a rumor of attack on us. Eggs have been lading closer and closer everyday. Walking to wards the battlefield we saw rows of coffins, they have so much faith in us. I promise I will be coming home soon. Don’t sign up for war; I will come home to you soon. I’ll write again when I can. -Luke
I am writing this letter from France but that is all I am allowed to say. War isn’t what I thought it would be, but I am hoping it will turn around for the better. Everyone seems to feel the same way in my battalion. Some of the older guys who have been here longer like to joke about us. Not to worry though, it’s all in kind spirits.
I had my first taste of the front lines a few months ago. You must have heard by now that we conquered Vimy Ridge, it was a proud moment for us Canadians. The Fritz have a nickname for us now too, they call us Storm Troopers. Sounds about right don’t you think? The front lines aren’t what the posters say they are. In reality it’s cold, wet and miserable. We live chest deep in trenches full of mud and rats. It’s hard to keep everything dry but matches and cigarettes would be well appreciated. It isn’t as bad as you think though now that we are all set up. After Vimy Ridge, everyone’s spirits were lifted and the mood seemed a lot better there. The Conditions were easier to bear.
Its surprising to see the towns and cities here in France, they seem to be doing everything they can to help but you can tell they aren’t faring as well. Especially in the smaller towns, closest to the battle fields. The medical treatment is alright, the nurses are very nice. I spent some time there after Vimy Ridge with an injured shoulder. It was shocking to see the damage up close, especially when there is nothing they can really do to help. Everything is muddy and damp with rain.
I hate to leave this on a bad note so I wanted to say that to hear from you and Lily was wonderful. Your cookies and Lily’s scarf did me and the men wonders, They all love your baking.
Today I was struck by a bullet in the arm while fighting on the front line in the shell holes they call trenches. I was a one of the lucky ones not to be blown up by artillery that constantly bombards the frontlines. I was carried off in an ambulance it was motorized so I was taken to the nurses with ease. They said I was going to be okay; To be honest morale is low the battle of Passchendaele the battle has been going on for 2 months now and it just seems to be getting worse. Our Commander seems to be very capable because it seems like we are wining the battle and hopefully I will be home soon
With regret, I inform you that I my leave has been postponed due to lack of able-bodied men on the front line. I do not know what the brass is doing to replenish the fallen, but until reinforcements arrive my battalion must hold the line. It is cold, the only thing keeping me warm being the laughter of my squadmates. We wait for hours to see if good old Fritz will come dashing over no-man’s land or for the shells to finally stop. Everybody’s holding together after the last shelling. Occasionally a mailman comes around with letters from people back home. Your letters are greatly appreciated, for they remind me what I’m fighting for. Last week the engineers put down a phoneline for communication, but we have yet to receive any calls from anyone except the general. That is some humour for you from the front. The general has been efficient, trying not to waste manpower on foolish runs across artillery valley. Without him, we might have been fodder for the machine gun they set up on their side of the line. With hope, this war will be over soon.
It was hell on the battlefield, my ears were ringing from the sound of exploding shrapnel flying above my head. Generals were screaming commands to keep moving forward while the wounded were crying in pain. My boots are soaked in wet mud and blood. Now I regret coming to this bloody war, I just want to be home. To see my beautiful wife, kids and family. When I came into this place I did not expect it to be this bad. I’m currently in a little trench filled with dead soldiers, rat and up to my knees with water and mud. Our guns keep jamming up and our clothes are soaked. We took Vim Ridge today after successfully moving our troops up the hill. Today was the best day we have had out here. I hope to speak to you guys soon and get out of this hell.
I thought I would take this short moment to write to you both back home in Canada. I can definitely say that I was not prepared for what was to come while fighting over here, but for the sake of you and for our country I had to grow up and fight like I had been doing this my entire life. I do not recommend this to anyone else; war truly is hell. I see so many people dead that I catch myself talking to them once and awhile. Life in the trenches is not fun. The dirt masks the rats that scitter around all among us day and night while we lay waiting. I feel so dirty and cold and even hopeless sometimes. The worst days are spent with such little food and water that I would rather be dead then stuck here for any longer. That’s probably not what you wanted to hear but it is the truth. I refuse to glorify war because it is not a wonderful thing at all. Although, our success with Vimy Ridge keeps me confident that I can, and will survive and I believe that the other men around me feel the same way. Us Canadians now feel like a country and will keep fighting and working together until we have succeeded. I am yet to have a serious injury but talking to acquaintances we have very kind and loving nurses and doctors that will do anything to help us survive. I feel pain for the women at war that have to witness death over and over again. Most of the women are nurses and drivers, none are fighting out in the trenches with us men. All the men help each other out but we can’t get too close to anyone because in a split second that person can be taken away from us. But as a whole we work very hard and listen to our general to do the very best for our country. I miss you all very much. Keep writing and sending care packages to me, it really helps.
Dear Mom and Dad and my Cat whom I hope is still alive,
War is exactly what you think it is, it's nothing like the posters. No green fields, no fun times, bad food and next no time for sleep. It's cold and dark and wet, people dieing all around, destruction and chaos all with the hopes of winning this war. However I am well, my battalion and I are being shipped off to Vimy Ridge as support, shouldn't be in much danger as we have plenty of soldiers there already. Thank you for the presents, the rhum was a hit with my battalion and the bread didn't last long. Please say hello to my friends and if possible let them read this letter I don't mean to seem rude by cutting this letter short, but I have little spare time and am about to go on watch duty. Anyways I hope you enjoyed this letter and I miss you all!
How are you doing? Are you in hunger, disease, or have you died already? It is six o’clock in the evening here, and over the past few weeks, each day during this time at least thirty soldiers were sent here, not for just going to battle, but to stop at a station before going to either hell or heaven. Support troops came one after another, and the groups of wounded came one after another as well. We pray to God to forgive all inhumane actions, but what else can I do? I volunteered to be a nurse because I could not stay in my hometown and have coffee while my beloved fellow citizens are fighting for me. But now, everything is in such a mess! Why are we fighting, and what is the reason for it? The commanders sometimes order their soldiers to go “over the top”- to attack and usually are cut to pieces by enemy fire. The men wait for this order with trepidation. I can imagine the scene, and feel the desperate condition of soldiers, being ordered to run over open fields where they knew their enemies are waiting to shoot them like doing shooting practices. The machine guns and poison gas have caused so much havoc trouble in other battle fields. The ones who survive the attack into no-mans-land have returned to our care with terrible injuries and untreatable wounds in the field-hospitals. Many soldiers were horrified leaving their masks, and most of them die with terrible sickness. Conditions are primitive, and yet we strive to do our best to save-them. We have won the battle of Passchendaele, but after we were victorious, none of us seemed satisfied. We had won, and had defeated our enemies, but all we accomplished as a result were thousands of dead and wounded, and a devastated piece of land, a place that looked like Hell to me. The soldiers were terrified at hearing any unexpected sounds, and the only ones who forgave themselves enough to have a gracious sleep were the dead. I cannot judge whether we should have entered this war or not, but to any reasonable human mind, this is very wrong. Our hearts are of the devil itself, and our desire to win at any cost is leading this world to destruction. My heart is cold, my friend. I can no longer feel anything except emptiness, looking at those wounded brave souls suffering. This world is shattered, and still no one is content. We work under heavy rainfall every day, and it is as if the sky is mourning over the bloodstained land. I wish I could be a bird, even a crow would be fine. Then, I could fly far away from here, to a place in which there is only beauty. That would be heaven, would it not? What makes me feel so empty is that I feel as though my soul has fled, or has flown somewhere far away? My dearest friend, I wish I could receive your reply at once. If you have gone to Heaven, bring me with you. I would end my life, if it meant that I could escape from the nightmare of this dark and horrifying place.
I'm sure you're aware of the war here in France. It'd be hard not to. When we first got here, we were crammed into these little dugouts in the trenches. These soldiers have been digging for months. I can't explain to you how horrible it is. The trenches are filthy; constantly caving in, flooded, flea ridden, and corpses are everywhere. I stare at their lifeless bodies daily and wonder when it'll happen to me. All we do is cower in here. These trenches have been home to us. We're all pretty damn scared to leave. Going into no mans land is suicide. I know a few men who have gone in there to purposefully be shot. It's incredibly draining to be in the front lines. We wake up first thing, stand watch for the Germans to attack, after half an hour (when they don't), then we get to eat breakfast. Sleeping is a thing of the past, emotionally everyone is biting their nails. The rum ration is the best part of the day. Most in my platoon do not share my ill-mannered nature. Morale is usually high among the troops; particularly the captains. They are quite enthusiastic in regards to our victory. The only flaw in their plan is this: the sending of men to die using old fashioned strategies. They don't understand how the new weaponry is changing the war. We don't need the calvary anymore, we need machine guns. No longer do we have the luxury of specific hours of attack, we have sporadic bombings. The germans are using these things called "U-boats." They go underwater. I think they're trying to starve us out. And then there's the planes. Oh Heaven help me, the planes. Once only scouts, are now equipped with grenades to add more to the death toll. I can't express to you how scared I am. I do hope to return soon, not entirely shattered.
Dear Sam, April 2, 1916
ReplyDeleteI miss being home now more than ever; the weather here hasn’t been very good lately. Living in these trenches is really taking its toll on me. I have walked passed my friends rotting bodies’ everyday for the last few. The trenches are wet and filled with rats. Everyday I have to clear the rats out of my bags and clothes because they destroy them. The smell is starting to get to me, along with the shellfire over my head. I can’t sleep at night because of it. Some of the men are going crazy, shaking and screaming, the most unbearable screams. I know I will be able to forever hear those screams that make me cringe. I got a piece of scrap in my side the other day, which meant I had to pay a visit to the health facilities yesterday. They were full of men, some dying, others so injured I knew they just wanted to die. Some men had their faces blown apart, limbs missing, cuts, and bruises. The place wasn’t very clean but I knew the nurses were doing their best. All I did was get in and out as fast as I could. They stitched me up quick and I was back on the front lines. They don’t have the best health care here but it will have to do I suppose. There are woman here just like you, young and small. They usually work in the hospital like places, driving ambulances or being a nurse. Probably a horrible job I’d say, watching the men fighting for our country dying, several, everyday. The horrible injuries you would have to see everyday must just leaves scares in your mind. I think I’d rather be on the front lines that working as a nurse trying my best to save the lives of these men, and often not being able too. Although I’m sure there accommodations are a little better. I can’t believe I’m fighting on the front lines in The Battle of Vimy Ridge. We have been doing well lately, capturing a strategic position. All the four Canadian divisions are here fighting together against the Germans. We have been using tunnels, secret ones, to tunnel underground and get close to the Germans to attack. I think we might be victorious in this one. Hope to be home soon my love.
Yours truly, John Babcock
Dear john
ReplyDeleteI hope mom and dad are still doing okay, I would never think id miss the smell of a home cooked meal this badly. We have recently taken over a front line trench that reeks of decomposing bodies from our allied soldiers. I luckily have not gotten itchie-coos yet so I’m trying to look on the bright side.
Rain rain rain for the past 3 days we are all having trouble moving about these trenches especially with our feet so sore. None the less I am so thankful for what you recently sent for Christmas I’m limiting myself with the cigs to three a day, the chocolate on the other hand I have already eaten all of.
I have been praying every morning and night for your guys’ safety and well being tell Sammy to stay in school he doesn’t need to come fight here with me ,the war will be over soon and Id rather come home to see him with an education than find him missing a limb on a stretcher board. I am sorry I cannot make this letter longer but our troop was just told to were going to be making a attack soon.
ps. I have not yet lost hope See you guys soon
Dear Mother and Father, it has been months since I have last seen you two, and I am counting the days for this terrible war to end. I have just served my four days rest from the trenches. We have a system where the men in the firing and supporting trenches exchange places every forty-eight hours. After a four days’ of work we retire for four days and a new set of troops come in and we repeat. My four days in the trenches were quite quiet, with little to no contact with the enemy. The most action filled part was on the third day. We were in our trenches at dawn when suddenly we could see massive explosions ahead of us. Our commander ordered ‘Over the top!’, so we all ran out of the trenches and ran straight ahead into gunfire. We were in the open, the air seemed alive with bullets and you could here slight buzzing noises pass your head, I still can’t get that noise stuck out of my head. Eventually we gained a couple hundred feet and we set ourselves back into another set of trenches for another day. Those four days in the trenches could not compare to Aprill 22nd, at the Second Battle of Ypres. This was the first action that us Canadians have seen as troops in the Great War, and I really wish that I could un see it. We were all getting ready for battle taking cover, but there was an east wind blowing towards our French and Canadian lines. I’m not sure how many there were, but there are rumors of the Germans opening over 5,000 chlorine filled gas cylinders into our line. The whole air was tainted with the acrid smell of chlorine that caught at the back of men’s throats and filled their mouths with a metallic taste. Behind the gas-cloud came the advancing Germans coming towards us. This was the scariest moment of my life and I am lucky to be alive. There were more than 6000 Canadian causualties, I was lucky enough to just slightly sprain my ankle.
DeleteI have to admit on the bright side of this war, there have been many technological advances for us. On my four days of rest I was on the airstrip with my comrads and I talked to one of Canada’s most famous pilots, his name was Billy Bishop. He was flying an Avro 504 Aircraft, which could reach a speed of 175 miles and hour and could carry up to 3 tons of bombs. Billy was a killing machine, with a record of over 70 airplanes he had destroyed. It was such an honour to meet a man who has served his country so well. As each day passes, in the distance I can see enemy German Zeppelin’s flying in the air. There are rumors that they can reach over 16,000 feet. They are very hard to take down and they can carry a sufficient amount of bombs. I am hoping to be home for Christmas.
ReplyDeleteDear Family and Friends,
Today our battalion was shipped out from our camp four miles South of Vimy Ridge. We woke up early to the sound of lieutenants yelling and blowing horns, and we grabbed supplies and started marching. In the past 3 months, I have witnessed and experienced more pain and suffering than I could ever imagine. You have no idea what it is like to make friends with fellow soldiers and then have them disappear forever, not knowing if they’re dead, dying or lost in this wasteland we are fighting for. The days are usually quiet when we are resting at our camps, but the thought that at any moment we can be in the middle of war haunts my thoughts. I find it hard to sleep and it doesn’t help that some nights are spent in trenches surrounded by other men, some of which are screaming with pain and calling for help. The past week has been slow and everybody seems to be recovering and regaining strength, but the sound of horns this morning broke the silence and hinted in the sign of a bloody battle. I’m glad that I found the time to write a letter back home, and I intend to see all of you when I return.
Best Wishes,
Jon S.
The war on the front lines is hell. The trenches aren’t even trenches anymore they are just holes from artillery that are filled with water, bodies, and has just turned into mud. The food isn’t good at all, you barely get any sleep because of all the shells dropping. The morale of the man is low because no one wants to fight anymore, especially in these conditions. The hospitals are doing the best they can, lots of females medics and nurses in the hospital. Canadian troops are holding there grounds very well and be a very effective force. The biggest issue that we have had is the miss communications from command or just bad leadership. Sometimes they will lead us into enemy lines and occasionally our own artillery fire.
ReplyDeleteTo (Family member)
ReplyDeleteThis is the first chance I have gotten to write, as it has been a complete downpour since I arrived. The trenches have turned into pools of mud and water. Everyone is soaked up to their waists and have no dry clothes. Since the rain is so heavy, there have been no planes flying overhead to perform reconnaissance, or try to shot us, so that is a plus. Our battalion has since lost morale of Vimy, as the conditions are depressing. Many have taken up smoking to help calm themselves, but everyone is having trouble keeping matches dry. The orders we are receiving are not even close to as organized or effective as Vimy, but there is no chance in leadership. I had to be taken to a makeshift hospital, from shrapnel, but not serious enough to be sent home. The nurses and doctors seem to have strong minds, from all the injured people coming in. They are constantly working with men who have lost limbs etc. I have to stop writing, we’ve been ordered “Over the top!” I may not write again.
Sincerely (Initials)
-Carl B
Jerry Henderson 20 from Vancouver BC
ReplyDeleteFought in the Battle of Vimy Ridge
Dear Mother and Father,
I have made it to France and have gotten my first look at the front lines. I’m writing from my new dugout. I have to tell you it’s not what I expected when I imagined signing up for war. But I’m here now and will hopefully be home soon. I’ll write short entries on my letters and try to send them home every few months.
Went have a routine in the trenches, it goes like this. We get up, and go ‘Stand To’ it’s where we stand a half an hour before dawn and wait for German attack and so far the Fritz haven’t attacked yet. Probably because he knows we’re waitin for him. Then we go back to our dugout and have breakfast. Then we wait for orders. It’s pretty boring here once you get used to the shell-fire and gun shots. I met Tom here, we play cards together while we wait.
I saw my first aeroplane today and boy is it a sight to see. I heard that the planes are for information gathering only but I’m not sure. I’m thinking of joining the British Royal Flying Corps. I have always wanted to fly.
We’re getting ready for battle and the men are getting restless. We’ve been doing drills for the attack on Fritz but I can’t say much more about that. General Byng has even been down to our dugout to tell us the plan. I even got a map for myself.
The attack is a soon and this’ll probably be my last chance to write for a while. We’re all gearing up and getting confident for battle. We’ve got the plan memorized and practiced to perfection. Everyone has worked hard and efficiently at the drills. I’ll write again after our victory over the Huns.
From the Front Lines,
Jerry
Letter Home
ReplyDeleteHey mom, when I first enlisted to go to war I didn’t picture it was going to be like this. From the looks of all the campaigns back home it didn’t seem like it was going to be this full of death and brutality. They made it seem like you would be strolling through some fields over in Germany but in reality were laying in shell craters filled with water for hours on end. I see death everywhere. I went out with a platoon to hold the line and there were only 2 of us to come back. I want this war to be over so I can come home and see everybody again. I talk to you soon.
Kory
Dear family,
ReplyDeleteIt’s only been a couple of months since I’ve last seen you all but it feels like so much longer than that. I must tell you that I’m proud to be serving my country in battle, but it’s nothing like they said it would be. It’s much worse. The worst of it all is when we’re in the trenches. Everything is wet and filthy and the smell is something you wouldn’t believe. It’s been raining nonstop lately, which definitely does not help. The odor is a combination of rotting flesh and wet dog. It’s truly unbearable. We get cigarettes whenever we can in an attempt to mask the smell. It barely does anything, but it’s better than nothing. I’ve seen so many men run out into the mud and fire. I don’t think it’s the best solution to anything but you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do. I really admire the doctors and nurses in the treatment center. Without them we wouldn’t have a hope. It warms my heart to know that someone would risk his or her lives just to try and save someone else’s. But then again, that’s kind of what our soldiers are doing, isn’t it? I keep picturing the day when I get to come home and see all of you. It will be sunny and all of you will be there to greet me and celebrate with me. I’ll be counting down the minutes. Hopefully that day comes soon. I love you all.
Sincerely,
Kyrsten C.
Dear Mother and Father
ReplyDeleteI would like to tell you that I am physically as fine as I can be, aside from a few cuts and bruises, and that I was fortunate enough to survive the battle at Vimy Ridge. Us fellows at Vimy Ridge were much more fortunate than the lads at the Somme, and Passchendaele, due to the fact that our leader, General Currie, was very organized and effective with his planning and all of us were trained for this battle specifically and issued maps. The raid was successful as all of us attacked on timed intervals in accordance with the howitzers. This technique, courtesy of General Currie, is called the Creeping Barrage.
Life in trenches is deplorable, to say at the least, I will not call it hellish for your sake. The trenches are filled with mud, due to the weather, and overridden with rats and lice. I ‘ve been lucky to escape the wrath of the lice, because I shaved off my hair, but the rats cause me to be weary every time I put some food in my mouth or get some shuteye.
Us Canadians have been quite an affective group. What the French failed to in repeated attempts, we achieved in one, at Vimy. Our boys won a hard fought battle at Passchendaele, even if the Huns got it back; we’ve got to give the boys credit.
When I signed up, I did it because of my patriotism, my love for the Homeland, and the Motherland. But know, when I look around at the villages and towns around us, the abandoned houses, the blown up churches, I realize that while I am defending the homeland, I am destroying someone else’s. The French border is littered with the shells that felled our fellows, and also the bodies of many of the soldiers who were slaughtered, some, for a cause they could no longer remember. To keep myself from losing my mind, I remind myself everyday, through the rumble of the bombs, and screams of the dying, that I am fighting for you.
With love, your faithful son,
Jack Fletching
Dear Rick, April 8, 1917
ReplyDeleteI’ve seen more people dead than alive everyday. We’ve been staying in trenches for days waiting for the attack we’ve been hearing out. The fat rats are eating the little amount of food we get. These rats are huge from stealing our food to eating all the rotting corpses. We’ve made a game out of these rats, killing them and throwing them. Walking around on the field, you see arms and legs with no bodies to be seen. They’re pieces of bodies and clothes that stretch for miles. Many of the man became insane from what they’ve seen to the bombs exploding. They bombed a graveyard yesterday. All the corpse awakened from the dead, if that’s possible. I’ve learned to not get close to anybody, cause they’ll probably die tomorrow. The medical keep telling people they’re A1. People who are missing an eye to a foot are getting sent back to the front. We are running out of people. There are very many pretty nurses. I couldn’t imagine dealing with all us man. They watch so many die and suffer. Not a fit job for woman, but id rather see their face in my last minute. The only way your not guaranteed to get sent back to the front is if you’ve already gone east. They gave us a big meal yesterday. Probably expected to be most of our last meals, and it was for the most of them. Its been raining for days. I miss home. I feel like I’m losing my mind. The general that’s assigned to my group is so mean. He has no idea what its like at the front, I don’t know how he got his position. I got trench mouth, the doctor just tells me to wash my mouth out everyday. But being stuck in the trenches I don’t get much water. There is a rumor of attack on us. Eggs have been lading closer and closer everyday. Walking to wards the battlefield we saw rows of coffins, they have so much faith in us. I promise I will be coming home soon. Don’t sign up for war; I will come home to you soon. I’ll write again when I can.
-Luke
Mandi Watt
France
ReplyDeleteMay 14th 1917
Dearest Mother,
I am writing this letter from France but that is all I am allowed to say. War isn’t what I thought it would be, but I am hoping it will turn around for the better. Everyone seems to feel the same way in my battalion. Some of the older guys who have been here longer like to joke about us. Not to worry though, it’s all in kind spirits.
I had my first taste of the front lines a few months ago. You must have heard by now that we conquered Vimy Ridge, it was a proud moment for us Canadians. The Fritz have a nickname for us now too, they call us Storm Troopers. Sounds about right don’t you think? The front lines aren’t what the posters say they are. In reality it’s cold, wet and miserable. We live chest deep in trenches full of mud and rats. It’s hard to keep everything dry but matches and cigarettes would be well appreciated. It isn’t as bad as you think though now that we are all set up. After Vimy Ridge, everyone’s spirits were lifted and the mood seemed a lot better there. The Conditions were easier to bear.
Its surprising to see the towns and cities here in France, they seem to be doing everything they can to help but you can tell they aren’t faring as well. Especially in the smaller towns, closest to the battle fields. The medical treatment is alright, the nurses are very nice. I spent some time there after Vimy Ridge with an injured shoulder. It was shocking to see the damage up close, especially when there is nothing they can really do to help. Everything is muddy and damp with rain.
I hate to leave this on a bad note so I wanted to say that to hear from you and Lily was wonderful. Your cookies and Lily’s scarf did me and the men wonders, They all love your baking.
Tell Lily I lover her. All my love Will.
Dear Father
ReplyDeleteToday I was struck by a bullet in the arm while fighting on the front line in the shell holes they call trenches. I was a one of the lucky ones not to be blown up by artillery that constantly bombards the frontlines. I was carried off in an ambulance it was motorized so I was taken to the nurses with ease. They said I was going to be okay; To be honest morale is low the battle of Passchendaele the battle has been going on for 2 months now and it just seems to be getting worse. Our Commander seems to be very capable because it seems like we are wining the battle and hopefully I will be home soon
Sincerely,
Keegan L.
To my dearest Terence,
ReplyDeleteWith regret, I inform you that I my leave has been postponed due to lack of able-bodied men on the front line. I do not know what the brass is doing to replenish the fallen, but until reinforcements arrive my battalion must hold the line.
It is cold, the only thing keeping me warm being the laughter of my squadmates. We wait for hours to see if good old Fritz will come dashing over no-man’s land or for the shells to finally stop.
Everybody’s holding together after the last shelling. Occasionally a mailman comes around with letters from people back home. Your letters are greatly appreciated, for they remind me what I’m fighting for.
Last week the engineers put down a phoneline for communication, but we have yet to receive any calls from anyone except the general. That is some humour for you from the front.
The general has been efficient, trying not to waste manpower on foolish runs across artillery valley. Without him, we might have been fodder for the machine gun they set up on their side of the line.
With hope, this war will be over soon.
With sincere friendship,
Corporal Clausen
Dear family and friends,
ReplyDeleteIt was hell on the battlefield, my ears were ringing from the sound of exploding shrapnel flying above my head. Generals were screaming commands to keep moving forward while the wounded were crying in pain. My boots are soaked in wet mud and blood. Now I regret coming to this bloody war, I just want to be home. To see my beautiful wife, kids and family. When I came into this place I did not expect it to be this bad. I’m currently in a little trench filled with dead soldiers, rat and up to my knees with water and mud. Our guns keep jamming up and our clothes are soaked. We took Vim Ridge today after successfully moving our troops up the hill. Today was the best day we have had out here. I hope to speak to you guys soon and get out of this hell.
July 29, 1917
ReplyDeleteDear Parents,
I thought I would take this short moment to write to you both back home in Canada. I can definitely say that I was not prepared for what was to come while fighting over here, but for the sake of you and for our country I had to grow up and fight like I had been doing this my entire life. I do not recommend this to anyone else; war truly is hell. I see so many people dead that I catch myself talking to them once and awhile. Life in the trenches is not fun. The dirt masks the rats that scitter around all among us day and night while we lay waiting. I feel so dirty and cold and even hopeless sometimes. The worst days are spent with such little food and water that I would rather be dead then stuck here for any longer. That’s probably not what you wanted to hear but it is the truth. I refuse to glorify war because it is not a wonderful thing at all. Although, our success with Vimy Ridge keeps me confident that I can, and will survive and I believe that the other men around me feel the same way. Us Canadians now feel like a country and will keep fighting and working together until we have succeeded. I am yet to have a serious injury but talking to acquaintances we have very kind and loving nurses and doctors that will do anything to help us survive. I feel pain for the women at war that have to witness death over and over again. Most of the women are nurses and drivers, none are fighting out in the trenches with us men. All the men help each other out but we can’t get too close to anyone because in a split second that person can be taken away from us. But as a whole we work very hard and listen to our general to do the very best for our country. I miss you all very much. Keep writing and sending care packages to me, it really helps.
Sincerely,
Your son,
John
Dear Mom and Dad and my Cat whom I hope is still alive,
ReplyDeleteWar is exactly what you think it is, it's nothing like the posters. No green fields, no fun times, bad food and next no time for sleep. It's cold and dark and wet, people dieing all around, destruction and chaos all with the hopes of winning this war. However I am well, my battalion and I are being shipped off to Vimy Ridge as support, shouldn't be in much danger as we have plenty of soldiers there already. Thank you for the presents, the rhum was a hit with my battalion and the bread didn't last long. Please say hello to my friends and if possible let them read this letter I don't mean to seem rude by cutting this letter short, but I have little spare time and am about to go on watch duty. Anyways I hope you enjoyed this letter and I miss you all!
Best Wishes;
Travis
November 3rd, 1917
ReplyDeleteTo my dearest friend Sophia:
How are you doing? Are you in hunger, disease, or have you died already? It is six o’clock in the evening here, and over the past few weeks, each day during this time at least thirty soldiers were sent here, not for just going to battle, but to stop at a station before going to either hell or heaven. Support troops came one after another, and the groups of wounded came one after another as well. We pray to God to forgive all inhumane actions, but what else can I do? I volunteered to be a nurse because I could not stay in my hometown and have coffee while my beloved fellow citizens are fighting for me. But now, everything is in such a mess! Why are we fighting, and what is the reason for it?
The commanders sometimes order their soldiers to go “over the top”- to attack and usually are cut to pieces by enemy fire. The men wait for this order with trepidation. I can imagine the scene, and feel the desperate condition of soldiers, being ordered to run over open fields where they knew their enemies are waiting to shoot them like doing shooting practices. The machine guns and poison gas have caused so much havoc trouble in other battle fields. The ones who survive the attack into no-mans-land have returned to our care with terrible injuries and untreatable wounds in the field-hospitals. Many soldiers were horrified leaving their masks, and most of them die with terrible sickness. Conditions are primitive, and yet we strive to do our best to save-them.
We have won the battle of Passchendaele, but after we were victorious, none of us seemed satisfied. We had won, and had defeated our enemies, but all we accomplished as a result were thousands of dead and wounded, and a devastated piece of land, a place that looked like Hell to me. The soldiers were terrified at hearing any unexpected sounds, and the only ones who forgave themselves enough to have a gracious sleep were the dead. I cannot judge whether we should have entered this war or not, but to any reasonable human mind, this is very wrong. Our hearts are of the devil itself, and our desire to win at any cost is leading this world to destruction.
My heart is cold, my friend. I can no longer feel anything except emptiness, looking at those wounded brave souls suffering. This world is shattered, and still no one is content. We work under heavy rainfall every day, and it is as if the sky is mourning over the bloodstained land. I wish I could be a bird, even a crow would be fine. Then, I could fly far away from here, to a place in which there is only beauty. That would be heaven, would it not?
What makes me feel so empty is that I feel as though my soul has fled, or has flown somewhere far away? My dearest friend, I wish I could receive your reply at once. If you have gone to Heaven, bring me with you. I would end my life, if it meant that I could escape from the nightmare of this dark and horrifying place.
With Best Wishes;
Bella
Dearest darling,
ReplyDeleteI'm sure you're aware of the war here in France. It'd be hard not to. When we first got here, we were crammed into these little dugouts in the trenches. These soldiers have been digging for months. I can't explain to you how horrible it is. The trenches are filthy; constantly caving in, flooded, flea ridden, and corpses are everywhere. I stare at their lifeless bodies daily and wonder when it'll happen to me. All we do is cower in here. These trenches have been home to us. We're all pretty damn scared to leave. Going into no mans land is suicide. I know a few men who have gone in there to purposefully be shot. It's incredibly draining to be in the front lines. We wake up first thing, stand watch for the Germans to attack, after half an hour (when they don't), then we get to eat breakfast. Sleeping is a thing of the past, emotionally everyone is biting their nails. The rum ration is the best part of the day. Most in my platoon do not share my ill-mannered nature. Morale is usually high among the troops; particularly the captains. They are quite enthusiastic in regards to our victory. The only flaw in their plan is this: the sending of men to die using old fashioned strategies. They don't understand how the new weaponry is changing the war. We don't need the calvary anymore, we need machine guns. No longer do we have the luxury of specific hours of attack, we have sporadic bombings. The germans are using these things called "U-boats." They go underwater. I think they're trying to starve us out. And then there's the planes. Oh Heaven help me, the planes. Once only scouts, are now equipped with grenades to add more to the death toll. I can't express to you how scared I am. I do hope to return soon, not entirely shattered.
Yours truly,
Jewel W