V2J B273 E7SM
October 1 1914
Dear Beth,
My beautiful sugar cube, I miss you a lot. Guess what? Today I almost got shot. As I flew in my plane, someone else took their aim. High up in the sky we go, seeing all the soldiers die down low. As I glide over the soft blue sky, the cool breeze brushed by me. Just then, he takes his shot, then we fought, until I got behind him and… down, down, down he went, yelling in his German accent. Till his plane hit the ground, and the man was nowhere to be found.
Soaring through the sky, fighting other guys. Sometimes dropping nails, hit some but most fails. The ones that do make it, turn people into kebabs. Oh how fun it is to be a pilot, being as noble as the colour violet. Flying planes with honour, and soon becoming goners. The reality of it can never be unseen. It is not as great as we think.
Now let me tell you about the trenches. What we go through, to pay for your expenses. Feels like you’re inside the earth. We dig the land, all by hand, then pile them up with bags of sand. Working like a beaver, hunting like a lion. Spending days here, some over there, just as long as you don’t die in the warfare. Try and pass through no man’s land, then repeat, and do it all over again. Getting lice isn’t always nice. We sit in a circle with the guys and have a chat, don’t be too scared if you see a rat.
There’s not much to do in the daytime sometimes; just wait around for lunchtime. We wake up early to watch for the enemy. As the days go by, we go to attack. Green-ish gas then appears, our greatest fear. We quickly put on our masks. Some men fall to the ground, and that’s the last time we see them around. Running on the rough earth, hearing gunshots and bombs fly on every side, have a feeling that your about to die.
If I don’t make it back, just know I think about you every day to every night, dreaming about you even in the moonlight. Before I sleep I look up to the night sky and think about how you are, my twinkle, twinkle, little star.
Sincerely, John