21 December 1914

Western Front, France

Dear Mama,

Our trenches are deep and narrow, full of mud. The mud is everywhere, sticking to my boots, and water collects at the bottom, never drying. The wooden boards underfoot are slippery, and rats run around as if they own the place. Around me, there is constant noise: gunfire, explosions, and sometimes the cries of the wounded. The smell is terrible — wet earth, gunpowder smoke, and something rotten. It’s cold outside, my clothes are always wet, and even at night I can’t get warm.

I am here because it is my duty. When I volunteered, I thought the war would be quick, and I would come home a hero. I believed we were defending our country and our families. But now I see it’s not what I expected. Everything here feels pointless, and the war has gone on much longer than we thought.

Sometimes, there are good moments. A few days ago, it was Christmas Eve, and for a few hours, it was quiet. The English soldiers started singing Christmas songs, and we sang with them. We even shared tobacco and wished each other peace. But the next morning, everything came back: gunfire, bombs, and mud.

I dream of coming home, Mama. I want to see our village and hear silence again. But I am afraid this war will last a long time. Sometimes I wonder: is it worth it?

With love,

Your son, Jakob