Climbing up to the musty attic, feeling a sense of anticipation. An old book caught my eye. Opening it, two letters fell out, both from my sons written during their time at war. Tears stream down my face while reading them. No words could describe how dissimilar they were. Holding tightly onto the letters as if they were precious gems, I promise to keep them forever as a reminder of the love and sacrifice that my sons had made for my family and our country. How many other families had experienced this same heartache? Praying for my sons safe return, I’m hoping that one day, they will be able to come home and see me again.
John:
The blood red sun rises over the hills of Gallipoli, as the deafening shells are keeping us from getting any good sleep. Life blurs into a blinding sense of death and destruction. Death looms around us. The deadly echo of the snipers bullet that took out Jonesy as he tried to protect our territory. The shells that explode mere yards from our trench rain down mud, rock, and terror. Then there’s the dysentery that can kill you without a bullet. The screams of dying men chill the fire in our hearts, sapping our morale, and our will to fight.
The war has dragged us into an endless cycle of endlessly digging new trenches, all while trying to gain precious yards of territory against the relentless enemy. The cold wind is like a knife cutting into our already wounded hearts. As a wave of regret floods over me, I realise that running away from home may have been a mistake.
Deciding to write a letter to my mother, I pick up the little box that holds all my valuables, and gently take out a pen and some paper. I write.
Dear Mother,
I hope this letter finds you well. It's been a while since I last wrote, and I apologize for that. Being on the front lines is not easy, and I have been occupied with different tasks.
Do you remember the stories that George used to tell us in his letters? I think that he lied about them so you wouldn't worry about him. He made the war seem fun and exciting, but I know that it's not. It's hard being away from home, and I worry about you and father a lot.
At first, I thought serving my country was an adventure, but now I realize how life-threatening it truly is. It's a difficult time, and it's even harder to express my emotions. It's hard to remain tough all the time. However, it's the support of others that keeps me going.
I often wonder when this war will end and if I will make it out alive. The uncertainty is daunting. Will that sniper's bullet have my name on it? It's best not to dwell on such things, but the nightmares will haunt us for the rest of our lives, however long that will be.
Sitting here, I can't help but think of the warm cooking that always brought me happiness. Reflecting on your delicious food compared to what we are given here makes my stomach rumble. It's funny how we don't appreciate things until they are gone. Growing up on the farm and was hard, but now I realize it wasn't the worst thing in life.
I miss you a lot, and I hope that one day we'll all be together again.
I'll write soon.
I love you Mother
John
George:
Lying in this uncomfortable bed, staring up at the stark white ceiling, the feeling of emptiness and quietness compared to the trenches me and my comrades were in a few weeks ago seems almost unbearable. The smell of antiseptic was strong, leaving me feeling numb and disconnected. The taste of medicine was like a bitter pill that I couldn't swallow, refusing to go down no matter how hard I tried. My mind was spinning with worry and fear and how was I going to tell my family that I had lost my leg fighting? They still thought I was fighting in the front lines. I didn’t want to worry my mother sending letters home pretending to be alright and making up stories about great battles and hero comrades that daringly saved many lives hurt me seemed like the best option.
I’m in the hospital, miles away from the front lines. I can’t help but feel upset, the feeling of failure in my heart. As just one more casualty of a war that had already taken so much from us, I couldn’t face the idea of seeing my family look at me with my injury for the first time.
As I lay there, I couldn't help but think about my brother. The rumours that John had been sent to Gallipoli burn into me, and my heart felt heavy with worry for him. What is going to happen to him? Is he even going to come back?
The nurses high heels tap the floor as she walks in my wardroom smelling of antiseptic and roses and hands me a letter. My hand trembling in anticipation, I quickly open the letter. My heart leaps as it is from my mother.
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My dearest child,
I hope this letter finds you well and in good health. It has been a while since we last spoke, and I have been missing you terribly. How are you doing? I hope that you are taking good care of yourself and that everything is going well for you.
I want you to know that no matter where you are and what you are doing, you are always in my thoughts heart.
Keep writing letters as I love hearing from you.
Always pray
Love Mom
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Dear Mom,
I thank you for your concern. I am in good health as I hope you are too. I am writing to let you know about my life in the trenches. First of all, let me tell you that it's been an incredible experience and honour serving my country. There may be hardships, but there's nothing more honourable than fighting for what you believe in.
The trenches are not as bad as people make them out to be. I have made some great friends here, and we all look out for each other. The bond we share is strong, and it's amazing to see how we are all working together as a team.
The food may not be the best, but it's enough to keep me going. I have also received some additional training, which has made me more skilled at what I do. I feel proud to be part of this team, and I believe that we will make a difference.
Please don't worry about me, Mom. I am safe, and I have everything I need here. I know that you miss me, but this experience has been life-changing, and I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.
I hope this letter brings a smile to your face. I miss you and cannot wait to be back home and see you soon.
With love,
George
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Finding these letters had given me a glimpse into my sons lives, like a window to their souls, helping me to understand them more. The letters have given me a sense of comfort, showing me their courage and strength. I don’t know what will happen in the end, but I know they can make it, and I’m proud of them.