On the Front

1916

Dear Journal,

I have been moved from England to France, with the 3rd Battalion of the Royal Welch Fusiliers. I am now a Second Lieutenant. The horrors of this war are astonishing, yet one must continue on...

The only way I know how to deal with such stress and atrocity is by flinging myself into my work. I have taken to going on consistent night raids and bombing the enemy lines. For this, my fellow comrades have named me "Mad Jack." I have even been awarded the Military Cross for saving a wounded soldier on the front while under heavy siege.

Still, the number of deaths is astounding. Of course, my poetry still serves as a respite from said horrors. I use it now as a different medium of expression, a different refuge, than I once did. So many men die such undignified deaths. And for what? We are fighting against a mysterious "other" with weapons our forefathers could not even imagine.

See below the links to some of my latest poems:

The Fathers..................written in 1916

To Victory (By a Private Soldier on the Front).......written in 1916



In hopes that this war shall quickly end,
Seigfried