Day 11: The ultimate sacrifice

A letter from William Richard Nock to his father, George Nock, written in Europe during World War I.

Dear Dad,
Sorry I couldn't write before, but better late than never, but don't seem much good writting for I can't tell you anything, only the same old thing. I could tell you a lot, but it would only be scratched out like the last one and I didn't write much in that. I hadn't much time to thank you in the last letter for the cigarettes, but I don't know what I should have done without them for I had no money at the time and we went up the trenches the same day, but I took good care of them and I had a few when we came out and a good job too for we went back to a village for a billet and you couldn't buy a smoke at any price. I think this is all this time.
From your loving son
Bill.

Willy was my great-uncle and he died in "France and Flanders" on August 18th, 1916. This is the only written record we have of him.
I don't know the details of William's death, but it was probably in the Battle of Ypres, on the Western Front. Over a period of a few months, the British lost 310,000 men and the Germans 260,000. There was little change, after this most costly and controversial offensive, in the momentum of the war. It was the epitome of the wasteful and futile nature of trench warfare.

A letter from Kate to her sister, Sarah Anne Nock:

My Dear Brother, Sister,
I am very sorry to hear about your dear boy. It must be very hard for you both to lose your only son. This war is a terrible thing for nearly everybody. It don't seem to ever end. Dear sister, I have often thought about your poor little Willie. This is a dreadful time for most everybody one way or other with the Zeppelin coming over us again. It is dreadful, we never know when we go to bed that we shall see the morning. I think I told you in my last letter that my husband has joined up. He has been gone 7 weeks on Monday next. I expect that you are thankful that George have not to go. I miss my husband every day. He has been home twice, one leave for 2 days. I wish the Old War was over! They only pay the married men 3/6 a week, just enough for a drink. Luv, everything is so dear, I get (one pound, six shillings and sixpence) per week from the army. I have 3 clubs to pay and I send my husband 5 shillings per week so you can see I have not much left. Don't you think they have got a fine cheek taking your husband from you and giving you what they like best! I think the people who started this war ought to go fight them all..........
Dear I have wrote more letters since my dear husband has gone, I write to him twice a week. He wants me to write to him every day, but I have nothing to say. I wish I could come see you in your trouble it is a long time since I saw you. 
With love
Sister Kate.

Sarah Anne Nock, as the story goes, could not stand to live after her only son was killed, and she threw herself into the canal and died on September 30th, 1916, at age 49.

On her memoriam card is inscribed a doleful poem:
A sudden change, I in a moment fell,
I had not time to bid my friends farewell;
Think this not strange, death happens unto all,
This day 'twas I, tomorrow you may fall.

My intent was for this to be a thank you to all who have served and fought for freedom, but I'm not sure what it has become.
Perhaps a tribute to all of the men, mothers, wives, and children who have missed out on the sweetness of life and the companionship of those they love.
And gratitude for the belief that they will, in times to come, be together again.