Between the Lines (my stab at a WW1 writing)

For the purposes of National Security we had to amend this letter:

Dearest Mother,

I hope you are keeping well and that Molly and Lilly are behaving themselves.

Please keep my beloved Mary close, she misses me so and I worry after her.

Life here is not what I thought it would be. 

Adventure was promised to us and what we expected, but it is not what we got.

Standing on guard now I remember playing. 

Pretending Molly and Lilly were the enemy, pretending to shoot at them, what fun that was. 

The reality is not the same.  It is no fun shooting men I cannot see, I unlike other men take no pleasure in shooting the Bosch. 

They tell us they are the enemy.   

For King and Country and all that, I do not believe it is what they would really want if they could see what we have become.  

These men are not just like me.   They are me, young men taken from their homes.  Fed lies of adventure and glory. 

What adventure and glory?

That is not what you get when shooting men in the dark. 

How I wish I could see you again dearest mother, before we go over the top. 

How I miss Blighty with its green fields and bright warm sunshine. 

There are no more green fields here were I am, and the sunshines.  But it is cold and weak. 

Mother dearest I do not enjoy sending such letters to you before Christmas.

But I am to go over the top soon and do not know when I will be able to write again.

I would dearly love for you to send me some of your Christmas cake. 

Spirits are no longer high here but I know your cake will increase the festive cheer.

Look after yourself mother, I do not know when I will see you again, but I hope it is soon.

Your ever loving son.

We cannot allow such a letter to go out like this:

Dearest Mother,

I hope you are keeping well and that Molly and Lilly are behaving themselves.

Please keep my beloved Mary close, she misses me so and I worry after her.

Life here is not what I thought it would be. 

Adventure was promised to us and what we expected, but it is not what we got.

Standing on guard now I remember playing. 

Pretending Molly and Lilly were the enemy, pretending to shoot at them, what fun that was. 

The reality is not the same.  It is no fun shooting men I cannot see, I unlike other men take no pleasure in shooting the Bosch. 

They tell us they are the enemy.  

For King and Country and all that, I do not believe it is what they would really want if they could see what we have become. 

These men are not just like me.   They are me, young men taken from their homes.  Fed lies of adventure and glory. 

What adventure and glory?

That is not what you get when shooting men in the dark. 

How I wish I could see you again dearest mother, before we go over the top. 

How I miss Blighty with its green fields and bright warm sunshine. 

There are no more green fields here were I am, and the sunshines.  But it is cold and weak. 

Mother dearest I do not enjoy sending such letters to you before Christmas.

But I am to go over the top soon and do not know when I will be able to write again.

I would dearly love for you to send me some of your Christmas cake. 

Spirits are no longer high here but I know your cake will increase the festive cheer.

Look after yourself mother, I do not know when I will see you again, but I hope it is soon.

Your ever loving son.