Frontline letters by Lewisham Multicultural Writers Group

Frontline Letters
from the Lewisham Multicultural Writers Group

Torridon Road Writers and Lewisham Multicultural Writers Group  have submitted content for a creative writing element called Frontline Letters. Most of these are in the form of WW1 letters sent to and from the front. Some of these letters are based on oral accounts of the war handed down over generations. Others shed some interesting light on Lewisham during the First World War.
There are contributions from

• Brenda Garrick
• Marilyn Bond
• Enomwoyi Damali
• Leibert Kirby

You can read the contributions from the Torridon Writers here

Torridon Road Writers and Lewisham Multicultural Writers Group 

The Torridon Writers Group is a writing group and community that meet regularly in Torridon Road Library. For more information on the group, please see here.

The Lewisham Multicultural Writers Group  is a writing group and community that meet regularly in Lewisham Library and the Irish Centre. For more information on the group, please see here.

Letter by Brenda Garrick

Well Doodoo,
Me reach and all me wanna do is come straight back home! Dis is hell on earth!
And sweet Jesus it cold! What I want to know is, what the White man do to the Almighty to live in such a cold place? Rain ‘pon, rain ‘pon, rain. I get me first taste ah coldness on the boat, it had to divert to Halifax in Canada and me catch frostbite – I thought me fingers-dem go drop off. They had no blankets, hat or gloves.
Now me can’t feel me fingers nor toes and me boots-dem have a river running through it non-stop.
Me can’t believe me was stupid enough to volunteer. Me couldn’t wait to leave me yard and be a man. I wanted the family to be so proud, well tell them from me nah bother. This is a White man’s war for real, us Black people no have no business here!

Death is all around me.

Please pray for me to see your beautiful smile again. I does dream of your beautiful body all de while. I wanna thank you for turning me into a man before I left. I will do the right thing and make an honest woman out of you when I return,
Write soon, all my love,
Gilbert
xxxxxx

Written by Brenda Garrick

Letter by Marilyn Bond

Dear Mama,

I have some time to myself, so I am writing this letter from near the Front.
What news do you have from home? How is everyone doing?
Out here, it is cold, and we can have long hours of not doing much. At the moment I am not fighting in full combat with the Germans, but waiting in reserve with my unit. For us, normal activity is reversed, as that is when more action happen under the cover of darkness. We tend to get our supplies delivered, and we have to move them on, as they make their way to the front line. But because darkness makes it easier for people to crawl on the ground without being seen, it makes it a dangerous time, in case the Germans get a sniff of what is happening, and start firing their guns in our direction, to stop us from moving. That can be frightening, as the guns are very loud, making the ground shake sometimes. In the morning you can see the damage when you have to repair the trenches, when the day can be quieter
In four days time, I will be moving to the woods, as a reserve squad, where we have to be on standby to relieve the Front soldiers, at short notice. We only spend four days in reserve, so it is not a long wait. But changing over with our boys at the Front, can also be fraught with tension, if the Germans get wind of what is happening. We usually have soldiers posted on look outs to see if the enemy will try and sneak up on us , in the dark or misty mornings.

If we get past that, and get to the Front, then mercifully, it is only just another four days. The only good thing about that is getting some hot food from the mobile food units. But again it can be tricky, because, if the smell of hot food gets out or smoke, that can let the enemy know where to aim their fire. But with so much stench around, it is hard to smell anything nice until it is directly under your nose. Mornings, around the time of breakfast is the quietest time. I hear the Germans use this time for breakfast too. So at least we get a chance to get something in our stomach to set us up for the day. But here, the enemy is more, the weather, the lack of proper sanitation. So how can one sleep properly in this? So tiredness is also a big enemy.
But I when I finish my duty in the firing line, I can have time to catch up on my sleep, read and write letters.
We have lots of duties to occupy us, while we are waiting. In fact, I got to know a group of lads from the Lancashireregiment. They talk funny, but they have the most funny sense of humour. What a blessing.
Hopefully I will see you soon, and get some of your lovely cake.
Your loving son,

Charlie

 

Written by Enomwoyi Damali

Letters from the Trenches Letter 1

2^nd Lieutenant Cecil Slack replies to Dora Willatt’s letter of 7^th June 1916.

31^st July 1916.


My dear Dora,
First of all, thank you for your letter of 7^thJune, which I received yesterday. You can have no idea how much it means to a soldier, fighting in this brutal war, to receive a letter from Blighty. It is the highlight of the day or even the week.

Dora, I have been in love with you since we were at school; and it was always my dream to marry you. Now that I am a soldier fighting a war, I have a different prospective on life. When you see death all around you, you are forced to focus on life; and you look forward to a life away from muddy and stinking trenches. I reject the idea that my asking you to marry me was influenced by my not seeing you for some time. I admit that going away may have pushed me to pop the question sooner than I intended; but I was always going to ask you to be my wife.
War is a risky occupation; and I know I could be killed or seriously wounded any day. In this war, we all have to be positive: the soldiers in the trenches and the loved ones at home. When I get up in the morning, I have to believe that I, and those I command, shall get through the day. I believe that I shall survive this awful war, and live to enjoy a peaceful life with you in

Dora, you want to know how much I love you. Here I must cheat and borrow words from Shakespeare to come up with an answer. How much do I love you?
With adorations, with fertile tears
With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.
Is that good enough? It gives me a really warm feeling to know that you reciprocate my love.
I agree to your stipulation of six months to allow you to get to know me better. I shall be as good as gold for those six months, as I anticipate having you as my prize. At the end of that time, I shall be so used to being good that I shall be happy to stay that way for the whole of our life together.






Goodbye Dora and write soon,

 

Letters from the Trenches, Letter 2.

Marjorie’s letter to her dad, Gunner Wilfrid Cove; in reply to his letter of 4^thDecember 1916.

26^th December 1916.



Dear Daddy,

Why didn’t you come home for Christmas? I thought everyone comes home for Christmas. I think being a soldier is a very bad job, if you can’t come home for Christmas. Santa Claus came and brought me a doll; but Christmas is not the same without you, Daddy.
I am glad you like my writing and my pictures, Daddy. I am sending you some more pictures with this letter. One is a snowman that I made with Betty and Mamma in the garden.
Daddy, why do you sleep in a dug-out? Mamma says that a dug-out is a hole in the ground. Why don’t soldiers sleep in a bed like everybody else?
I like Mamma to read stories about Daffodil to me and Betty. Daffodil is very silly really. Daddy, I hope you will come home soon, and sleep in the bed with Mamma. A bed is nicer than a dug-out.
I love you lots and lots.

From your daughter, Marjorie.

 

Written by Leibert Kirby

Letters from the Trenches, Letter 3.

Letter from Leader of Company, in reply to Frau S’s letter of 2^nd January 1917.
23^rd January 1917.

Dear Frau S,
Thank you for your letter of 2^nd January. I really appreciate your honesty, and I wish I could grant you what you so rightly desire.
We are into the third year of this difficult war, and the officers and men are hoping and praying that we shall soon have victory. We are all making big sacrifices for the Fatherland. Your letter reminds me that it is not just our men who are making sacrifices. We are fighting because we believe it is the right thing to do; because we think what we are doing is in the best interest of the Fatherland. We are determined to win, and to gain for ourselves, for our children and our children’s children a better future.
As a married woman, in normal times, you would be entitled to have your husband at home, and sharing your bed. But these are not normal times. We are fighting in a great war, and normality has been suspended. We are fighting for victory. We are all making sacrifices. I accept that your sacrifice, of being deprived of the companionship of your husband, is a big sacrifice. Your children are having to manage without a father, and this is very bad for them.
When this war is over, and victory is assured, we shall enjoy a big celebration; and our present troubles will seem like a bad dream.
Yours sincerely,

Written by Leibert Kirby

 

Written by Sharmalyne Joseph

14th September 1918


Dear Mother
Thank you for your last letter. I'm fine. Not much has happened since I last wrote to you.

Well, father's alright. He's still recovering from the bomb but he'll be able to go home next month. How's Mary? Oh, and how's Trooper? Is he still a good boy? Give him a treat (if you have any) on my behalf. Could you please tell Mrs Ebbel down the road that her son Morgan is in intensive care, and her other son Mitchell has passed away.

Anyway, the Colonel had a big party a few days ago for defeating Germany. I think they should get a new leader. The new recruits got punished for drinking too much beer. Seriously, they should know the effects that beer has on you. The Colonel also gave out medals to everyone who did the best they could to kill the Germans. I got a glinting medal. Here's a picture I drew of it.
Oh no! There's been a raid so we have to evacuate the trench. Well, give all my love to my family.
Signed:  Edward...."


Lewisham library chatterbooks
Sharmalyne Joseph, 9 years old