World War One

Dearest Amelia

It pains me to acknowledge the fact that it has been over a year since I saw your beautiful face. Instead of your affectionate company, I am sitting here with the rats, one on my foot, the other standing on a sandbag above my head. These trenches are hell and I don’t know how much longer I can take this life. Amelia, darling, I miss you.

This morning I awoke to the aching throb of my thigh. I have developed a painful rash and each time I look at it, it seems to have doubled in size. Mud is constantly filling the trenches and each night the flies cover my eyes and wounds. Sometimes they even creep into my mouth if it is slightly open as I sleep. The lice can be found everywhere, in my socks, hair and even the hem of my uniform. There has been heavy firing all through this dreary morning and I don’t want to know how many men have lost their lives within the last two hours, let alone throughout this whole war.

Death is unavoidable in these trenches. It is in every deceased and living man’s eyes. It has seeped into every one of our souls, like a terminal disease flowing through our veins. It is as if we are a different group of men, who once had an adventurous heart full of spirit and laughter and who now have nothing but fear, panic and a sheer desperation to maintain sanity.

Sanity is proving to be difficult to find, let alone maintain. There is no one to turn to anymore. We cannot talk about fears with each other, that time passed long ago. Now, we just understand. I look at Jim and he looks straight back. Without a smile, without even a word, we communicate in a way I have never done so before. He sees the death in my eyes and I see the death in his. The look we exchange reassures us that we are not alone.

Months ago, sleep was the only escape from reality, but now the illness of death is not only flowing through my veins, but through my mind and heart. I close my eyes and I see my friends, the men who stood beside me at the hardest of times, dead or dying as bullets tear through their flesh. They look at me in desperation and with the last few seconds of their lives they whisper to me, ‘Matthew, I don’t want to die.’ Away they fade and amidst the raging battle, I stand there helplessly, praying that I will make it home to you.

Amelia, I don’t want to die. I don’t want to leave you. You remain in my heart through every second, of every minute, of every day in my life. The day I can reach out and touch your beautiful skin will be the day that makes me the most grateful man in the world. I would give anything to be with you at this very moment.
Look after yourself Amelia, I love you.

With all my heart
Matthew