World War I - Letters From The Trenches

Letter 5

Dear Henry,

How was Christmas? It’s been quite here. We weren’t attacked on Christmas day, but that was it. No news of victory. Apparently some people went and talked to the Hun. Properly talked. They’re calling it the Christmas Truce. I wish that had happened here. It was so quiet, and that sometimes scares me more than the bangs. I don’t hate the Hun anymore.

To be honest I hate Sir Haig, Kitchener and Llyod George more now. Don’t let anyone know that though – I don’t want to get in trouble. I just can’t help but blame them for the situation we’re in. Surely they could have just talked with the Hun, made them stop without involving us.

I wish I could be home. I miss you all. I regret volunteering, but I regret volunteering even more in a Pal’s Battalion. It’s worse to see my old friends dying and becoming quieter and quieter around me than it would be if I were with strangers. I try not to be scared of death, but I can’t help it. What will happen to me when I die? Will that just be... it?

Billy was shot last week. I haven’t cried. I know I probably should – After all, I cried when Albert died and I barley knew him. I just feel numb. He stuck his head above the trench when no one was around, so no one knows whether it was an accident or not, but I have a feeling it wasn’t an accident.

I jump at every single little sound. I’m a nervous wreck. I just sit completely still with James or by myself. I can feel myself slowly slipping away, so I’m trying to cling onto my sanity and myself for one reason. I want to be home again, and spend a long time there before I die.

We’re running out of bully beef slowly, and I feel weak. I barley eat anything anyway, even when it is available. Apparently we’re going to attack the Hun today. We’re going over the top. I’m dreading it.

As always, send Mother and Rose my love.

I hope you’re okay as well.

Missing you and home.

Charles Reeves.