Twelve days a soldier

Twelve days a soldier

June 12th

Dear leader,

The lands we once had are ruined, destroyed by the shell you have ordered us to drop, all greenery gone, trampled away by the desperate feet of your forced followers. Today was one of the worst. We spent only a few seconds waking up...then your orders came through. Only a couple of words, fateful words that were going to pain our bodies and traumatise our minds, words that read...'go over the top'.

Our general took off his hat and bowed his head; he wasn't the only one that knew what was to greet us. Maybe you wanted better trained, faster thinking men and this was the only way to kill us off, maybe you just want to see us die...like the Jews that we have slaughtered.

Our minds took minutes to process the order, almost like we couldn't see why, but I understand...you don't care, you have no remorse. It is only now as I sit in the protection of the shell craters that I think, think of the ones that weren't lucky, think of the ones that made us die, think of you.

I need to leave but I am scared. If I return you'll shoot me, if I run forward the 'enemy' will. I hate this life you have made me live; I hate the mud I traipse through; I hate...you.





June 14th

Dear leader,

It's been two days since I last wrote; I guess I didn't want to. I still haven't left the crater; the idea of what might meet me is what keeps me from running, but that's what you want.

I keep thinking about my mother, the receipt of a telegram of condolences would hurt her already weak heart, but you don't care, do you?

The baby will be crying for me...but I can't be there.









June 16th

Dear leader,

I heard another battle today; the bullets flew past my home. I have made it quite comfortable now...more so than that of the trenches before, not as comfortable as my home before the war.

My wife will be distraught and even though I'm not present I can hear her cries, her shouts for mercy and her prayers. She doesn't deserve this after all she's been through, I gave her a baby...she lost her house-proud family.

No-one deserves what we as soldiers and families get, even today I heard the men scream in agony for help as they were dragged towards the 'enemy'. The men that have replaced my battalion were with them...I thought they were meant to be better!



June 18th

Dear leader,

I'm dying, slowly but surely. I'm toying with the idea of shooting myself but I'm worried I'll shake too much with hunger.

I miss my family, my country home and warm meals. I miss my father who I never got to see after he too joined to become a serviceman, how can you allow this to happen?

All of my home village will want a safe return of their sons and husbands, they won't get it. You supply us only with a trench, poor equipment and our memories...the only things you can't take away.










June 20th

Dear leader,

Today was silent. I am now having constant cramps due to my weak nature.

I wish I had listened to my mother and not to the feathers passed from girl to boy, damn those girls, I had a family.

I'm still alive, unfortunately.

June 22nd

Dear leader,

I thought I heard a baby cry today, I thought it was my Amelia. I was tempted to have a look outside the crater...but my injury wouldn't let me.

The pain has grown since I last wrote, both mentally and physically. This 'life' we live is that of inhumane hate. You say we'll be heroes but none of us believe that...now anyway.

I wish I was back to ploughing the fields, I can still, if I try, imagine the rabbits sprinting over the fields and my dog beating after them for my father, I miss him.




June 24th

Dear leader,

I thought I was to be rescued today. I saw the first aid party cross my crater but I couldn't shout for them, I'm too weak.

The days are getting shorter; I'm sleeping more now although I'm scared I won't wake up.

I feel worse than I did that time I had the flu, at least then I was cared for.








June 26th

Dear leader,

I'm dying, slowly but surely.

This is to be my last letter to you, I hope you're happy.

I wish I could write to my family, but you wouldn't let me...would you?

Anyway I can hear the heavens opening now, the music is getting louder...the shots are getting quieter...I am drifting away.

Tell my family I love them...not personally as they won't want you to.

My name is Corporal Alexander William Burton and these are my twelve days as a true solider, a soldier left by the ebbing tide of battle.