This is my recruitment propaganda poster. It depicts two little girls talking together on one side while another girl, Mary, is alone and sad. In the blue text, you can see one of the girls gossiping that Mary's father did not fight in the Great War while the other girl called Mary's dad as a coward. In the bottom, the line guilts someone into enlisting. The reason while I used a black and white photo was because I wished to create a somber mood in order for the hopelessness of the situation to be conveyed correctly. I used red and bold lettering to make the words "coward" and "enlist now" stand out. In that cause, from a distance, the poster can be read as "Coward, Coward, enlist now," which will guilt people and make them feel like a coward for not fighting. The simplicity of the colours keep the focus of the reader on the keywords.
Finally this hell is over. The armistice had been signed on Nov. 11, 1918 and finally, we can all go home. Do you remember the last time we had dinner altogether around the dinner table? What about or plans to paint the study? I cannot wait to see you and the children once again. Oh they must have grown so big by now!
Although it has been several weeks since my last battle, I have not quite adjusted yet. In my dreams, I am still haunted by the exploding shells and bone-chilling screams of terror of my comrades as they died. I can still almost feel hundreds of rats scurrying over me and smell the stench of rotting corpses. I don't know if I can ever recover from the horrors of war. Every night, I wake up screaming at one point or another; I do not remember the last time I have slept for 8 hours straight.
It has been a long while since the armistice has been signed and there has been no news about when we can be transported home. I hope that the wait will not be long. Well, I'm sure the government will not treat us poorly, especially after we sacrificed our lives for our country. When I get home, I look forward to collecting a pension and retiring.
Here in Europe, it is still pretty busy. The hospitals are chaotic at the moment. Everyone who are in good condition are lending a hand. I heard that the Germans have accepted full responsibility for causing the war and will be paying for all the damage. Something called a War Guilt Clause? I say that that is the least they could do! I'm sure that after the hell we have been through in the past 5 years, the Great War will be the last war in the history of humankind.
I hope that you have been taking good care of yourself, Melenar. Please tell the kids that I miss them. I reckon that it will be just a few more days before I return.
Everywhere I go these days, all I see is propaganda. No matter how hard I try to ignore the posters, the powerful pictures evoke so many emotions from me. There seems to be a few categories that every single poster fits into: victory bonds, recruitment, Red Cross, and women's roles.
The government encourages citizens to buy victory bonds so that the government can use the money earned from the sales towards the war effort. The government promises to return the loan with interest to the citizens that have purchased victory bonds after winning the war.
After people stopped volunteering to fight for Canada, the government started creating more recruitment propaganda in order to convince more people to join the army. They usually promise glory and adventure or they guilt a person into joining.
Other propaganda posters promote a cause by making people sympathize with it.
It seems as though everywhere we look, we are being told by the government how to act or what to feel. I am not exactly sure how I feel about propaganda. I certainly do wonder if it will still be the same in the future.
It shocks me how the a woman's role has changed over the past few years. From homemakers, they have suddenly became nurses, factory workers, sales people, mechanics and even spies! Women were doing everything they could to help out with the war effort.
Lots of women worked as nurses overseas. Their duties included scrubbing and disinfecting rooms, organizing baths for soldiers, driving ambulances, running soup kitchens and treating patients. They could be found almost anywhere: behind the front lines, in Army hospitals, on trains and on transport ships. Sometimes, these women were wounded and died overseas.
Women also started serving in the army, navy and air forces although they were not taken very seriously. Besides piloting, women also worked as mechanics in the air force. There had been many recruiting posters such as this:
Back at home, women started working in jobs that were traditionally dominated by men. Besides working as seamstresses, women were now working in ammunition factories, operating power machines, and in farms. One noticeable difference, however, was that women were getting paid considerably low wages compared to men working the same jobs. Perhaps that may change in the future.
Another interesting change is that somehow, women have obtained the right to vote. I never thought that it would be possible for the law to be changed.
While I am still trying to come in terms with such changes, I must admit that women are more capable than most make them out to be.
I don't know how to tell you this but I have been going in and out of the hospital for a while now because of a recurring infection. Do not worry, I am alright. There are so many more people worse of than I am at the hospitals. I see people without limbs either because they have been blown off by explosions or because the doctors had to amputate them. Pretty much all men in the hospitals fit under one of four categories: gas injuries, shell shock, diseases or wounds.
Injuries caused by poison gases are painful. The gases cause skin to blister, sores and internal and external bleeding. A person's lungs would fill up with fluid and the person will die suffocating. Because of the lack of hygiene, most cuts get infected and there is little the doctors could do. Influenza, intestinal flu and trench foot are all commonly seen diseases and again, the doctors and nurses are limited in what they could do.
However, sometimes soldiers suffer from mental illness rather than physical. While some soldiers adjust to living among rats, rotting corpses and exploding shells, others do not and they suffer from the mental illness known as "shell shock." This causes patients to be hysterical, disoriented, paralyzed and incapable of following orders. Again, there was little the doctors could due to address these issues.
Also, one thing I noticed was that there was a shortage of doctors and that medical workers work at least 14-hour shifts in order to address the large amounts of soldiers being brought in all the time.
I can only hope to maintain my good health so that I may see you and our boys some time soon in the future.
Forgive me for not writing to you for the past year. I had been captured by the Germans as a prisoner of war. We were taken to a camp (I think they called it a "mannschaftslager") that was surrounded by a barbed wire fence that was 3 metres high. The camp was made of barracks that were made of wood and covered with tar on the outside. I estimated that each barrack was around 10 metres wide and 50 metres long, big enough to house around 250 prisoners. We slept on straw or sawdust beds.
During the day, we were all put to work. Everybody dreaded working in the mines or swamp but I was lucky enough to do agricultural labour. There were quotas set but otherwise, agricultural labour was quite easy. Food at the camp was not constant. Usually it was some soup made with beans, codfish, prunes, beets or oats. Sometimes, we receive food parcels from the Red Cross.
One thing about the camps is that there was almost always someone sick. The hygiene there was severely lacking and living together in such close proximity with so many people allowed for typhus and cholera to spread quickly. I was, again, one of the lucky ones who had only suffered from a few common colds.
You may be wondering how I had "escaped" from the camps but truthfully, the armistice signed on Nov. 11, 1918 guaranteed the release of prisoners of war. At this time, there has been an agreement to ceasefire and I shall wait here until arrangements have been made for me to come back home to you.
Do you believe in that there is a god? Growing up, I remember going to church with my parents every Sunday to listen to Father Augustine's sermons, saying my prayers before every meal and before going to bed, and always counting my blessings until I fell asleep. But here, whether I am digging tunnels to the enemy trenches or fighting in the front lines, no matter how much I pray, the God that promised to never leave his people refuses to show his face. Where is God now? Where is God when my comrades are blown into smithereens by the German artillery? Where is God when my brothers in arm are riddled with enemy bullets?! WHERE IS HE NOW?
Let me tell you, Melenar, there is no god.
There was no god when our division was ordered to capture Vimy Ridge when even the British and the French had failed. There was no god when the officers knowingly thousands of men were sent charging into the endless barrage of German bullets. And there was definitely no god when the officers decided to take this mission, expecting failure!
The Battle of Vimy Ridge was supposed to commence on Apr. 8 but was postponed a day. It was storming when we started creeping into our positions and as uncomfortable as it was, the storm provided cover for us. at exactly 0530 hours, all our artillery started firing and 30 seconds after, all of us engineers detonated the mines in No Man's Land and the ones planted under enemy trenches. I could not tell at the time but after the battle, we were told that the mines we had planted had destroyed a few German strong points. Immediately after that, hell broke loose and everything was a blur for the next three days. In the end, we managed to capture Vimy Ridge at enormous costs. Around 10 000 Canadian soldiers were wounded or killed and the number was still increasing. Needless to say, after experiencing that nightmare, there was no way anyone could try to persuade me that God existed. Not when my best friend that I had been eating with and fighting with the previous day is now dead. Not when body limbs are scattered all around us, detached from their bodies. Not when corps were littered across the field without care. No way.
Tell me now, Melenar, do you still believe in a god?
What if I told you that we fought for 10 days at Passchendaele in order to gain 7 kilometres of muddy land? What if more than 15 000 men died for these 7 kilometres? And that this was what we called "a victory"? That's right, more than 15 000 Canadian soldiers died in 10 days to gain 7 kilometres of muddy land. Where is your God, Melenar?
Honestly, I have experienced hell in the past few months and there is no other "underworld." I'll be punished for my sins, you say? By whom, I reply? By whom?
There is no god to punish me and if there was, he has forsaken us. Do not preach to me about your god, Melenar. I have no use for such nonsense. I have seen atrocities here that you cannot even fathom. I am losing my mind. Just drop it.
I hope you have been well. The boys too. Do not not bother praying for me.
In the past few weeks, I have seen so many different types of weapons! I never knew there were so many different tools for killing. The rifle was the most common type of weapon used. Us, Canadians, we had been using Ross rifles, which were straight-pull bolt action .303 caliber rifles, that were actually quite inefficient. The Ross rifle had poor tolerance of dirt and had a habit of jamming.
Besides rifles, machine guns were also used. They needed 4-6 men to operate them but they had the power of 100 guns! The only drawback to machine guns is that they need a flat surface to function on.
Another weapon that was frequently used was the mortar, which was essentially tube designed to fire projectiles up into the air in the enemy's direction so that the projectiles fell down directly on top of the enemy. As the projectiles easily conquers trench walls, the mortar was ideal for trench warfare, making it a popular weapon of choice by both our allies and our enemies.
While machine guns and mortars sound scary, the most horrifying and feared weapon is actually poison gas. This may sound absurd but poison gases has been used by the Germans to murder us. The first time poison gas was used in battle was during the Battle of Ypres, a few months before I had enlisted. I heard that the Germans used chlorine gas which burning sensations in the throat and chest pains. You die by suffocation. An even more terrifying gas than chlorine gas is mustard gas, which was fired into our trenches in shells. It is colourless and takes up to 12 hours to take effect. It causes the blistering of skin, vomiting, sore eyes and eventually internal and external bleeding. The worse part is, it can take up to five weeks for death to claim the vitims.
Enough with me grossing you out with the morbid talk. Take care of yourself. I love you..
I am now off-duty so I will be spending this time writing to you. While I have gotten used to the stench of the trenches, I am still repulsed by the awful smells. The mixture of scents of rotting carcasses, overflowing latrines, poison gases, stagnant mud, cigarette smokes and cooking food continues to bombard our sense of smell. There is also the continuous firing of guns and mortars.
Our day usually starts off with stand to, for which starts an hour before dawn. During this time, the soldiers stand at the front steps of our trenches to guard against potential enemy raids at dawn. Although both sides expect raids, there are still many raids that occur. As light grew, morning hate starts and tensions of the night are broken by machine gun fire, shelling, and small arm fire. After stand to occurs, there is often breakfast peace during which both sides ceased firing during breakfast. This will eventually be broken by officers. During the day, I spend much of my time underground, digging and digging and digging. My duty is to dig tunnels to the enemy trenches and to plant explosives in them. Often, the weather would be horrible and it would be damp underground. My back would ache and my muscles will be sore for spending hours bent over in the small tunnels. At the end of the day, there is another stand to and finally, at night, men from the front lines are relieved and the rear lines are sent to fetch rations and water. The firing and supporting trenches exchange places every 48 hours; after 4 days, retire for 4 days. Also, patrols are sent out at night into No Man's Land to repair the barbed wired fences and to attend to listening posts. I usually do not take part in these duties as I am a sapper. The following morning, this routine is once again repeated.
Trench warfare is quite arduous as little ground is gained over a long period of time and at the cost of many lives. From the day I arrived here to now, we have not made any progress toward the enemy trenches. The battle of attrition taking place right now has never before been seen in this world. My instincts, unfortunately, tells me that there are many more to come. I must return back to my duties now. I miss you and the children. Please take good care of yourself. Thinking of you, George Wright ------------------------------- http://www.firstworldwar.com/features/trenchlife.htm
It has been a few weeks since we have arrived in Europe and currently, we are living in trenches in the middle of nowhere in France. The living condition here is atrocious. There are no words that could possibly describe the utter filth we are forced to live in. It is simply hell on earth. Lice runs rampant in the front lines. We spend most of our time off-duty delousing but there is too much to deal with. Often, we have to bury, burn or sink our clothes into water because there are far too much lice to salvage our garments. As a preventative measure against lice, we wear silk undershirts.
In addition to lice, we also have a huge problem with rats. These rats are nothing like the ones at home, Melenar. It is almost as if they are their own species. There are two types of rats: black rats and brown rats. Now the black rats are what one might expect when they think about rats. The brown rats, however, are an absolute nightmare. They gorge themselves on the eyes and flesh of soldiers and in some cases, grew to be the size of domestic cats! The worst thing is, each of these monstrous rats have ability to potentially produce 880 offspring a year.
Everyday after breakfast, we would all be subjected to inspection and then we would be assigned to certain chores such as refilling sandbags, repairing duckboards on the floor of the trench, or draining the trenches. While not on duty or completing chores, boredom infiltrated the entire troop. To preoccupy ourselves, we play blackjack, poker, seven-toed Pete or football. Many of us write letters home as I am doing now to keep ourselves sane. We do everything we can to escape from this nightmare.
In the front lines, all the soldiers take turns being on sentry duty which consists of standing on the front steps of our trench and waiting for the enemy to make any moves. The constant bombardment by the enemy causes sleep deprivation. At night, soldiers patrol No Man's Land and our barbed wires there. It is also during the nighttime that troops are relieved and rotated. As a sapper, I am rarely put on these patrols; my duty is to dig tunnels to enemy trenches to plant explosives.
What drove me crazy when I first arrived was the stockpile of human carcasses that were left not buried due to lack of time. The stench of rotting bodies coupled with the odors from the overflowing latrine overwhelms all men when they first arrive but somehow, we all slowly become immune to it. Sometimes, poison gases are also apparent in the trenches and we have to wear gas masks for days on end. I am glad that you will never be able to experience these horrors of war.
I must return to my duties now. Please reassure the children that I am well.
By the time you have received this letter, I would be on my way to the battlefield. I apologize the grief that I have caused you and I deeply regret leaving you on bad terms. I realized that I never properly explained to you my reason for enlisting. Despite what you believe, I did not enlist to for adventure or glory but becuase I must fight for my country. I must protect you and the children from the bloodthirsty Huns. I cannot bear to live at home after the war, knowing that I could have done something for my country.
I enlisted on November 4th, 1915 and have taken the oath in Ottawa. I will be serving overseas as part of the 77th Battalion Overseas in the Canadian Expeditionary Forces when we arrive in Europe for the duration of the war and perhaps another six months after, if required. During this time, I will be paid $1.00 per day and 10 cents field allowance. As I have a background in steam fitting and engrineering, I will be a military engineer or, a "sapper." From what the officers have told us, I gathered that my duty will be to dig tunnels under enemy trenches and planting explosives in them.
Please take care of yourself and our children while I am gone. You will receive an allowance of $20.00 a month to provide for our family. In the circumstance of my death, the government will provide a pension of $22.00 a month plus $5.00 for each of our children. Worry not, Melenar for the war will be over in a matter of monthes and I will soon return to you.
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