A Letter From Gallipoli

Excellence Award in the 'Spread The Word 2017' competition

Dear Ma,
I think I’m in hell.
Gallipoli isn’t what we thought it would be. We thought war was going to be exciting, a chance to travel the world and show our bravery. It’s none of those. Gallipoli is horror, death and constant fear. Men lie dead beside us. Familiar and unfamiliar faces look blankly to the sky. Rats and flies spread like the bushfires near home. The stench of death and disease is nearly unbearable.
Words do no justice in explaining the horrors of war. I will leave out more gruesome details in case the little ones are read this letter, but it is pretty bad; worse than you can ever imagine.
One major struggle for me in this battle is the lack of sleep, caused by the constant noise and light of guns, shells and bombs. Light is usually a sign of good, but here it’s a symbol of death. Each flash could mean someone else dies. The night is filled with the reds, oranges and greens of explosions. I swear that when I get back home (know that I will, Ma, for you and the family) I will never see fireworks again.
One great thing about the trenches is the people in it. The ANZACs are great people, and the Aussies and New Zealander’s feel like great mates. We cheer each other up and are willing to share what we have. War can bring out good in people. Even the Turks seem like nice people, in the small periods of time we have had with them; mostly whilst burying our dead. Shame we have to fight them.
How’s Pa? Is his pneumonia getting any better? Tell him that I wish him the best, and will keep fighting strong. I hope he doesn’t feel bad about not being in the war; he has nothing to feel bad about. He just needs to focus on fighting the battle he already has going on.
The air around me is so thick with bullets, some are colliding mid-air and are fusing together. I’ll take some home for you to see. At the moment I’ve been making a little brooch in the shape of an Australian slouch hat for Margret. I’ll start making something for little Harry too. The art and writing is the only way to take your mind off the battle.
I’m always hungry here. Army food is terrible and fresh water is pretty bad too. There’s never enough and it tastes foul. If possible, can you send me a fruit cake and some of those Soldiers' Biscuits? They seem to last well in the mail and also taste good (unlike other long lasting foods). Also could you send some warmer socks? The weather is cooling down and my old ones are just muddy scraps now.
Tell Margret, Harry, Pa and Aunt Alice that I miss them and wish the best for them. I love you all, and hope to see you all again soon.
Love,
Samuel

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