WAR LETTER-by Cecilia Galarraga

I shuffled strangely to try to lie on the unconfutable wood of the trench. It was cold, and my feet were wet. Some of the other soldiers already had trench foot. Tom stood with his riffle looking at no man’s land, whilst I tried to write a letter to Meredith.  I could not concentrate, but I tried hard to express my feelings in the letter in a certain way that the officers allow me to send it back home. I was writing about the friend I had made at war. Tom was a very loyal friend and he was always alert. He passed day and night looking with his rifle over the sandbags of the trench, having him near makes me always feel secure. Our superiors treated us, the soldiers, horribly and unfortunately Jeff can’t tell this with his own words. Jeff already had had trench foot for about one week and could barely stand up. If he did not get his feet fixed up soon I fear they are going to cut his feet off. He has tried to commit suicide more than once and when the enemy artillery begins he shakes uncontrollably or becomes paralysed, he cries constantly and sometimes is unable to speak. To all of this, the generals do not allow him to go back home or even have a small break although he suffered any physical injuries.Jeff was suffering what is known as War Trauma or psychiatric casualties. David is the youngest, and I feel quite sorry for him as he is very scared of being in the frontlines. Even though he listed up voluntarily because his family was very patriotic he never was very sure if fighting in war was what he wanted to do. This always makes me remember how I got here, I remembered how life was before this horrible war started and I dreamt of having the life that I had before, in a near future.

I remembered I had a lovely life. I lived in a big beautiful house in the countryside with my parents, my older brother and my little sister. We had beautiful horses, very funny chicken and we lived near the woods. I spent whole afternoon horse riding with my dear girlfriend Meredith.

 One day my father told me and my brother that Britain was at war with Germany, but he said it did not have any importance, that it would not affect our lives and that it would end up soon. But he got everything wrong.

Months passed by, and war kept on. The army looked for more soldiers to join in saying war was great, but I did never believe it. My brother Frederic was chosen to fly new planes at war, and he accepted since he loved flying. My mother begged him to reject the job but she could not convince him, and he went.

Some weeks later, officers started to force men into war. Until one day of spring they arrived to my house and forced me to join. I could not refuse because if I did they would shoot me for being a coward. My mother cried, Meredith also cried and my father did not stop saying to me that he was proud, but I could see a deep sadness in his eyes. Before setting off to the training, I married Meredith and promised her I would return for Christmas. Even though when I said it I was not so sure about it.

Since I joined the army, around seven months ago, I have suffered a lot. I have passed through artillery attacks, bullet injuries, fear, anger, concern, I have seen good friends of mine being killed by the enemy, I have felt the horrible feeling of killing a man and the one you feel when you are about to be killed. But there is one thing I am totally sure about, and it is that war is anything except great.