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.
Much love,
George Wright
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Sources:
http://trenches.jynx.ca/?page=trenches
http://h2g2.com/approved_entry/A21605979
http://www.firstworldwar.com/features/trenchlife.htm
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