For soldiers and nurses stationed at the front during the First and Second World Wars, letters were the primary form of communication with loved ones. While some told their families of the horrors they were enduring, others chose to remain upbeat and encouraging for the sake of their loved ones. The letters collected here record some of the most important moments in their author's lives, and demonstrate the impact of war on individuals and their families. First World War William Coleman tells his wife of an injury he received in battle. June 4, 1916 My dear wife, Just a few lines to let you know I am safe and well, although I suppose I will have been reported in the casualty lists as wounded. I cannot tell you very much about what happened. We went into the line on Wednesday night nearly seven hundred strong, and on muster parade today we had seventy six. We have hopes that perhaps some more will turn up, but it is not very likely and our only hope is that some may be prisoners. My wound was very slight, a small piece of shell about as big as a marble in my leg just behind the knee. Love and kisses for you all. Lovingly, Dad Harold Brown joined the 11 Regiment, Canadian Mounted Rifles of the Canadian Expeditionary Force on 5 July 1915. He also served in the Canadian Machine Gun Corps from May 1918 to Nov. 1918. Dec. 25th, 1916 Dear Mother, It is Christmas Day and I am sitting in a deep dugout just in sight of the front line. The Germans are very quiet but our artillery is pounding away at their front line. Last night one of the fellows got a couple of parcels and we had a good feed. He was sure lucky to get them on Christmas Eve. I got two from Victoria the night before but they don't last long. Well, dinner is up and so I will stop until afterward.
Dec. 26th, 1916, After dinner yesterday I went down for water. You have to go quite a ways for water here because there is so many dead in this part of the line. Will try and write a little oftener. With love, Herb Katherine Macdonald was a nurse stationed in the north of France where she worked at a hospital caring for injured soldiers. She was killed in a bombing raid two months after she wrote this letter. March 14, 1918 Dear Mum and Sis, The war news does not look very good does it - we are simply rushed. We get patients from the field since the casualty clearing station was bombed, very quick work in the line in the AM and here at night. Poor fellows - they have some awful wounds. We have one very sick man. Amputation of both legs above the knee. We had to send him to the operating room again tonight and when he came back he would not rest unless he had my hand. Katherine Second World War Sergeant Worden, a Canadian soldier with the Regina Rifles wrote this letter to his wife in England. He wrote it shipboard while crossing the English Channel on June 5, 1944, the day before he went ashore on D-Day at Normandy, France. June 5, 1944 To my darling wife, Lee darling, I find it very hard to write this to you. As I write this we are out on the water, so the big day has come. I often had wondered how I would feel, but I don't feel any difference. I know I can truthful say if it was not for you I would feel different, but it is the love and trust I have for you and that will help me over many a rough spot. I am glad in a way that it has come for it means you and I can be together sooner.
So now darling I'll say good-night and God bless you till we meet again soon. Yours forever, Ted Lance Corporal Martyn was captured at Hong Kong in 1941 while a member of the Winnipeg Grenadiers. He was released at the end of the Second World War in 1945. This letter is from his father, a veteran of the First World War. September 19, 1945 Dear Ford, Well, son, I am so happy I don't know what to say. Welcome home to Canada from a Grenadier (last war) to a Grenadier (this war). Mother has had quite a life son, worrying for you and I, two wars, and over ten years of it combined, but thank God you're safe. I guess I'll have to take a back seat now, with my service last war over 4 years, and yours over 6 years. Anyway, Mum is down at Winnipeg just eating her heart out to see you.
First World War Journals Excerpts from the Diary of Herbert Heckford Burrell, who was stationed on the Western Front: Sund. May 6th, 1917-Bitterly cold wind from the North this a.m. spent restless and miserable night. The damp group & cold draught thro' tunnel made sleep impossible. Waited until late in the eveg and until full moon was up before we started. Fritz was sending over a lot of high explosive over the hill we had to cross, however, we reached our objective safely. Soon after taking over the trenches Fritz started shelling our positions heavily with H.E. and it was a very trying time as the trenches are new & not yet dug very deep. One of my platoon men - Peacock by name a quiet unassuming courteous man, had been at his post barely 5 minutes when he was blown to pieces, what a devil's game it is, only a few minutes ago on the way up he had been telling me of his plans when he got back to Canada & how he intended going in for cattle raising. He leaves a wife and family behind him. Wed. May 30th, 1917-Thunder shower in afternoon it rained just enough to make things miserable for us. One wishes for something to read or do. You are liable to go bughouse lying hour after hour on your back gazing at the chalk roof of your funk hole which is only two inches from your nose. After the war they say the question will be asked what did you do in the Great War? To us out here the question rather arises what have you done with your LIFE, any moment it may have gone from you. Mond. June 4th, 1917-Had a hunt for lice as it was so warm and you could sit in the sun with your shirt off. I found only 3 which must have been very active members for I thought there were 300 from their activity. Had some tea today, the first since 2 days ago and it was quite a treat. A night of horror was in store for us and it happened thus: Our men packed like herrings in this deep and narrow trench neither coming nor going had to endure a hellish fire from trench mortars & it was not long before the casualties mounted up. No effort was made by any officers or noncomons to get the men to safety & they stood for what seemed an eternity uselessly sacrificing their lives. I helped to carry the stretchers out & what with disgust at the useless sacrifice of valuable lives & nerves that had been severely tested for so many hours expecting violent death every moment. There were 5 killed I know of in 1st platoon & several terribly wounded. I was very very close to death all the time. A night of horror indeed.
John Teahan served with first the Canadian and then the British Army, where he served until reported missing in action at Thiepval in Oct. 1916. The following are excerpts from his diary: January 23, 1916-One of the peculiarities of today's bombardment was a small black dog, a mongrel, which ran about the field behind us all during the worst of it. Apparently it would be a sure goner after a shellburst, but when the air had cleared of the flying mud and dirt it would reappear still running about the empty shell holes. January 27, 1916-Going in last Sunday, we lost Lieut. Melville, our bomber, a very fine fellow and 7 other bombers were wounded slightly - the result of speaking too loudly and talking too much. Their conversation was heard in the German lines and they were shelled with whiz-bangs. July 26, 1915-About 7:45 I went into the Ploegsteert Church to see the damage that has been done in the last few days. While we were looking around, two shells came over in rapid succession, so we got outside as fast as possible and started for home. The civilians all got inside their houses after herding the children off the streets. In a few minutes, Ploegsteert was practically emptied of soldiers, and crowds were going down Le Romain Road, some walking some running. Meanwhile the guns started shelling the road. At every whiz overhead, I and everyone else threw ourselves in the ditches alongside or flat on the road until the shell had burst. Second World War Excerpts from the Diary of Harry White, prisoner of war at Hong Kong: Oct. 10, 1943-We were allowed to send 10 messages for the Cndns. And Bardal let me send one because I had not received any mail as yet. Hope it gets through. Rations very low, nothing but rice and "green horror" (a name we have for the watery greens we have to eat). Nov. 12, 1943-Work party calls for 500 men these days, have to use many sick men. Badger died. A full blooded Indian, one of my men, from Kamsack, Sask. I was in charge of his funeral. We held a quiet service in the chapel. The Padre (Chaplain) is with us. He reads a short sermon, we cover up the grave, blow a bugle call (the Last Post), and that's the end of another good Canadian. Often wonder if they will bury me up there some day. May 14, 1945-Jack Poole started a little boxing class. Corrigan, Prendergast and I doing a little. Am in rotten shape for it though.
May 15, 1945-My little Kerry's birthday past, he is 8 years old. Hell, I've missed a lot of his life. How much longer will we be stuck in here? May 18, 1945-Cracked my rib boxing. Guess our bones are very brittle these days.