World War I

Dear Family,

 

     I miss you all very much. There are many rumors spreading throughout the front that the war is coming close to an end.  I cannot wait to come home and see how much our little son has grown and matured. There are moments during the war that make me lose hope, but every time I remind myself of our love, I get back up on my feet.. Every step I take seems to be bringing me closer to death.  The conditions in the trenches are worsening and many of my comrades have caught the influenza disease. Rats and lice roam the trenches spreading diseases and eating our leftover foods.  I hope to not catch any of these diseases, for if I do, there is a great chance of death.  Also due to the wet and muddy grounds, many soldiers have received a condition known as trench foot.  If it is not treated in time, the condition can lead to amputation of the feet.

 

     A few days ago, the army commissioner assigned me to spy on the enemy lines in the trenches.  I left this morning on my journey and I hope to return alive..  The job of a spy is a very difficult and treacherous task; if I am caught by a German soldier I will be slaughtered to a painful death.  The enemy machine guns are firing and I am sitting in a trench hole next to a dead man.  The dead soldier is wearing the same type of uniform as I am, so I believe that he is French.  “When a man has seen so many dead he cannot understand any longer why there should be so much anguish over a single individual.” (181)  Fighting in this war has changed me and I am not the same person you once knew and loved.  I am a dead man now, maybe not on the outside, but I feel as if I am eternally lost.  “I cannot find my way back.” (172)

 

     The gunfire has now ceased.  I must continue on my journey and I will write another letter to you soon.  I wish you all the luck raising our son to becoming a healthy young man and remember to take care of our printing business.          

 

Sincerely Yours,

 

Gérard Duval

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

April 15th, 1918:                                                                           Gerard Duval          

 

It has been a week since I have reached the front. The conditions in the trenches are deplorable and even worse than I expected them to be. My senses seem to have become numb to the ceaseless barrages of shells and artillery fire which pummel the trenches all day and night. Gas attacks have become a routine occurrence, and it is almost out of habit now that I swiftly slip on my mask and secure it for dear life whenever someone yells the dreaded cry of  “GAS!” I have seen people who do not get their masks on in time or do not fasten them properly. They choke and they gag as the infernal gas excruciatingly consumes them and they drop to the dirt, never to get up again. Witnessing this once is incentive enough for me to always keep my mask with me, ready to wear at a moment’s notice. 

 

It has also been raining recently, so that the trenches have become flooded with knee-deep mud in which we eat, sleep, and wade through 24/7. Yet many men do not have any boots to protect them from it, and develop a condition called trench foot, in which their foot’s tissue painfully blackens and withers away, often resulting in amputation.

 

The rats are, as always, a problem. Those nasty pests scamper in and out of their little hideouts and steal our already scarce food as they go. Some of them grow to be huge (reinforcing my belief that the trenches bring out the extremes in everything). I swear, I have once seen one the size of my foot! We have recently begun hunting them with a passion as we have been noticing more and more of our food disappear. Many men have killed enough that they have strung the spoils together as trophies. Rats aren’t the only infestation we are dealing with either. 

 

Lice have also become a serious issue in the trenches. I have seen many men scratching themselves incessantly in a desperate attempt to relieve the constant itching brought on by the lice. I myself am finding it necessary to delouse myself more frequently, whether its by quickly running a candle along the seams of my clothes (where many lice gather) or immersing them in a solution of Naphthalene. It does not help that we are always huddled together in close proximity, since lice thrive in warmth, something which our body heat provides conspicuously. 

 

Well, I must leave now. I am assigned to patrol duty today, something which will send me into the heart of No Man’s Land. The area is especially active today, yet thankfully there many craters for me to take cover in. Let’s hope all goes well.