The Winter of 1916 – A Letter from a Wounded Solider – In Poem

Posted: May 11, 2019 in Battle
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My Dearest Brother,

I know it has been awhile since you have heard from me,
I know by now, you have received word of me,
About me,
I shall try to explain,
In my own words,
To you,
Dear brother.

Into the fires,
We found ourselves,
Victims to the falling bombs,
The exploding shells,
There in Hell,
On that Earth,
Some of us would die,
Into pieces,
Some of us would live,
All would be wounded,


That horrible word,
To hear,
Screamed across the Hell,
That horrible place,
Some would not hear that final bullet,
That finally canister,
That last breath,
Gasped away,
In Hellish haze.

I, my lord,
I would not die,
But lose a leg,
And an eye,
There in some field,
Not on a map,
Any that exist still to this day,
I lost my friend,
That battle,
To end that war,
It did not,
We still fight on,
Young men cried,
And died,
Never to see that blue sky of home again,
I would see,
Be pitied.
That I did not die,
OH brother,
My dear brother,
I remember that day,
It was a hard cold day,
In some trench,
I could hear the enemy breathing,
I could feel them bearing down on us,
Trench to trench,
Spearing them,
Our men,
I heard the first screams,
Terror filled screams,
Drifting through that field,
As if by the Gods,
An explosion ripped through us,
I felt something jab my leg,
Then nothing,
No sound,
Darkness there,
Sherman was there,
I felt his hands pulling me down the trench,
I figured this was death,
Rocks against my back,
Scraping the flesh from it,
With each pull,
I remember thinking,
“Am I in Hell?”

Dearest brother,
It has been almost a year from that day,
I find I am doing wonderfully,
Oh so the doctors say,
They write things down,
As my hearing is gone,
Except for a buzzing sound,
Which they say will go away,
I hear some words,
Like high pitch whines,
Tell Mother,
Her son has lost his leg,
Most of his hearing,
A twitch when he is touched,
Awakes the world with his screams,
As he is tormented in his dreams,
Oh my dear brother,
There is a Hell,
And I am here,
I shall never know that life,
That life of a father,
That life of a husband,
The first was taking with my cock and balls,
The second,
Dear Brother,
What woman would want a hobbling cripple,
Ugly even before war took his face,
Replaced it with some horrible demon’s?

I wish,
My friend,
I could be more positive,
I shall be home,
I will write more when I find out more,
Tell my Nora,
Beautiful Nora,
I think of her,
There in the field,
We met there as kids,
We pretended I was her hero,
Now, I am nothing but a soulless body walking through life,
Tell her,
She should find another hero,
One who can give her that life she deserves,
The husband who can provide,
I shall go now,
Send mother and father,
Oh god, my brother, what can I say to them?
Tell them, I love them.
Tell them, I am coming home.

Signed with love,


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