John
There's so many fucking tunnels. They've made us carry around maps in our front pockets. Tom dreams about you. He talks in his sleep. The gunshots used to be far off but they're getting closer. Tom says he can't see you or he'll desert the army altogether. Tell Ada to send socks and jam again. The gangrene bites through the socks. We haven't had it too bad and no tunnels have collapsed. Jeremiah Jesus asks for his Son. Tell Martha ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ ⬛⬛⬛⬛ and that I love her very much. Tell Pol the praying works apparently and tell Ada to stop sending such fucking huge letters. Tom always knows whose they are and sends back telegrams. He says that 'home on leave' made me soft. None of the battalion want to go back because they're scared of how much they'll miss their family. Jeremiah misses Isiah terribly. Fred waits on the postman for Ada's letters. Arthur just wants to go back into the infirmary so he can sleep again and see that fit nurse but he'll never admit that. It's rough but it could be worse. We sing sometimes and the sergeant likes it. He says it keeps the morale going; he doesn't know we're singing about how much of a prat he is.
John
Fred
GIVE TO ADA.
I miss you terribly. Send smaller letters. Tom's become tough from the stupid training. He won't let us write too long of letters and we have to lie about who they're for. It's cold here but pretty during the summer. I'll bring you here someday to show you the new tower they've built, up in Paris. I can't take 'home on leave' yet because "I've only been active serving for 2 months." John only got it because he had good behaviour. It's bullshit. They think I'll desert because for communism or something. They have good brandy here; keeps you warm and makes you feel fuzzy. Easy to get drunk off though. I've learnt some shelta. Just a song's worth but it's enough. The sergeant major is due to leave next week, thank God he's a prat. Tell Di thank you for the letters and tell Pol thank you for the prayers. Apparently Di is up at the infirmary. Tom's been hit by shrapnel on his leg but refuses to go up, says something about deserting. So send bandages, we've got stuff to disinfect. John's probably told you but we need socks- not the ratty shit from girl guides, get them off the milliners, Kitty Jurossi and that, tell her it's for the cause.
F.T.
Arthur
Fuck me. How'd I start a letter? Tell Martha to name the kid after me. Keep the family legacy going and that. Good fucking brandy here HA. Send socks, jam and bandages. No need for stamps, we get 'em free. They block out stuff we're not allowed to say, usually dirty stuff but also secrets. Training camp was brutal but me and Tom knocked the shit out of the guys messing with our Battalion. He swore he saw Diana walking about with some lieutenant and got super jealous. He doesn't like to talk about her much and says it makes him soft. The other night he got smashed and cried a bit. He really does love her; he's just a stubborn git. We'll probably sneak these letters in with his return slip. He does read Di's letters at night when he thinks we're asleep, tell her.
Stay safe,
Arthur Shelby Jr.
Tom
Boys can't write. Too many tunnels. Stop sending.
Tommy.
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A/N: I just wanted to say there is definitely going to be a lot of historical inaccuracies pls just bear with its just a fanfic so yk <33
YOU ARE READING
T.S.
FanficTom fucking Shelby. " "Don't be a prat, Tom. Write those letters or I'll climb back through those fucking trenches and rip your balls off with my teeth." He nods and smiles, confirming he'll do it. "
