In the Autumn Term, Year 9 Drama pupils spent time researching what life would have been like during World War 1. They imagined themselves as a soldier in the trenches and created their own scripts, some of which are featured below.


Dear Mum and Dad I am missing you so very much. I have de-liced my clothes today with a


candle to pop the eggs. It was nice to get some quiet because we have been very busy with the fight recently. We got gassed the other day. Johnny didn’t get his mask on in time, he


was such a good friend to our family. Anyway, enough about me, how are you all at home. I hope you’re doing


well. I am missing you guys very much. The rations are getting worse. The food is getting plainer and we’re having to eat our stew cold because we’re not allowed to use the fire in case we get caught by the Germans. Missing you loads,


Love your son Jamie xx


Dear Mother Having arrived at the trenches, I have discovered the harsh reality of


the war and am regretting my decision to sign up before I was wanted by the army, properly I mean. Life here is not good mother. In a matter of hours, I saw my childhood


friend die right before my eyes. It was not a pretty sight. I keep seeing that same image of his body dead upon the ground, his eyes white and colourless and his face fixed, scared and frightened. On a brighter note the weather here has been bright and sunny with


War


One word that describes my future. Every living moment I will live Will be fighting for my country. This is what I feared.


I thought I’d return. Proud.


However, now I’m not even sure I’ll be proud, let alone return.


Those people I killed, Those lights I blew out, They were exactly like me. They probably had families back home waiting. War.


What is it for? War. Olivia


very little rain but while that should be uplifting, all It does is bring out the smell of decaying, mouldy bodies which is attracting rats and flees and lice all the time. Although the lice seem bad, they do at least provide some activity for us! The men have devised a plan to get rid of them, they call it chatting. You set the little things on fire, then you hear a noise like a pop. The only trouble is, you can never fully get rid of them. New eggs hatch every day and even if you get rid of yours, you’re bound to catch them off someone else anyway. I hope to come home soon but I no longer feel like I will be home for


Christmas. Charlie


18 / The Sibfordian


February 14th 1917 My dear love It is Valentine’s Day, and my thoughts are of you. I hope when


I thought I was going to be proud to serve my country at war, but I’m not. I have had to see my friends die in front of me, drowning in their own blood, whilst I could not do anything. I will never recover from my harrowing experiences of near death. I will probably never return home and when I die I will think about how I ended up here. When I die I know I will not be proud to have served my country.


you’re reading this, that you are surrounded by warmth and happiness, and that all is well. The only reason that I crawl through the bodies of my friends, and kill others, is your smile. For even now, as I write this, the sky grows dark and smiles grow


cold. Early mornings accompanied by harrowing shouts, putting on clothes that feel like they are still in a muddy river, the wait. Too scared to even move, as you know these might be your last few breaths on earth, but you must plunge into the face of death and look it in the eye and say ‘Bring it on’. You can’t run back because the officers’ barks are like snapping dogs at your heels. The bullets go through our ranks like a lawn mower through grass, friends fall at your side, screaming through a blood-filled mouth for help, but none comes. A splutter, his body tenses, his lights dim, and then a grey film covers his eyes, as if death covers him in his final blanket. No mercy, no last chance. His stories are all we have left to remember a friend who we have loved and lost. No one will truly win this war, for when you kill a son, you kill


the mother, the father, the brother, the sister. As this dreadful war enfolds this planet it leaves no one unscathed. So, on this day of love, as innocent men, kill innocent men, I wonder, is there really any love left in the world? That is what I fight for.


Love. Edward xxx


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