Dear Mama,
Goodbye Mama. I love you. I miss you. I'm sorry. I failed you. When I left you told me "look after your brother". I killed him. It's all my fault. He now lays in the blood of the Others. He was gunned down under a fire of shiny, tiny pieces of metal. I remember the look on your face as I said that I have conscripted. I don't know when i will be coming home. Papa is gone. He went up and over the sandbags. Never came back. He is dead mama. I'm surrounded by the sick and dying. The stench of rotting flesh mixed with tears of anguish make me shake. Blood. Crimson streams. Death stench is so strong. No one said that life will be like this. It wasn't in the job description. The floor shakes. When I sleep. When I wake. The monotonous rusty metallic drilling of the machine guns meters away. The call and response. Tears stream down my face. Jimmy lies. Meters from me. I tried to save him. I really did. He had told me "save yourself". I'm sorry Mama. He is now up with God. With so many other young souls. His last breaths were spent as lays with large pierces his chest. He whispered to me "Mama...". The metal pinning him down to the bloodstained ground. The piece of shrapnel . Limbs of the dead and the live spread across the barren landscape. I wake every day to a sharp pain in my side. I find a rat, who had nibbled through my thick rucksack, my threadbare tunic and is now nibbling at my now-open flesh. We get woken at dawn. Woken find the same scene. More bodies of kids. Some only the age of 13. They don't care Mama. They don't care that we die. They don't care that we never get to see the world.
Mama i don't want to die. If run, I will be tied to a chair, blindfolded and then executed. Shot through the heart. I'm scared Mama. There is so much sadness. I met a fellow kid, he said he was 18, but i could tell that he was my age. The ripe age of 15. His name was James. James lived with his mum and dad in London. His uncle was first sent to conscript into the war. came with his dad. His dad died first day. Shot through the chest many times. James saw. He would have died too. If it wasn't for his bulletproof bible which he keeps hidden in his breast pocket. I guess god was with him that day. But left him soon after. A few days after our battalion was sent to the trenches, all we got was pain, agony, tears, fear and loss. James was to go over the barracks before me. I watched. Everything happened so fast. James had gotten over clumsily. I watched him aim and then collapse. Crumpled like a scrunched up piece of paper. His body falling. The earth accepting his body as he falls. I hear his last words. "Papa".
Mama, I don't sleep no more. My mind's eye sees the bodies lying. This is the world. The posters never said anything like this. Too old to play for fools gold. Too young to sleep forever. I don't want to die Mama. I'm scared Mama.
Daddy gave me his old pocket watch before he went over. It was working fine when he gave it to me. "Take care of it" Papa said. He ruffled my hair and told me to be good. He kissed me on my grimy forehead. His eyes full of tears he refuses to shed. He goes over. I open the watch. The hands stop moving. I sit and watch the clock. Not sure if i'm waiting for the arms to move, but to remember all the good memories i had with my father. Before i left, you told to "look to the sun and you will know that I love you. I love you every day that the sun will rise. You will be home no matter what."
I know i most likely won't make it out of this place alive. The people here will send the letter to a reading station where they will look for clues of who in the battalions. To find the traitors. Just know that having you in my life was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. And i love you more than the moon can circle the earth.
Love you dearly Mama,
Will
