親愛的阿比蓋爾

Susan著 小哭譯

親愛的阿比蓋爾：

在我給你寫信的時候，我正坐在一個戰壕里，背靠着潮濕的牆。我的是腳是濕的，地上全是泥；雨已經下了好幾天了。你肯定無法想像這兒有多麼地濕。就在幾個小時以前，雨停了，我可以給你寫信了，因為不用害怕我珍貴的紙會被毀了。

記得在冬天裡，我們曾經總是怎麼樣地建造雪城堡嗎？我們那會兒總是躲在它們後面向彼此投擲雪球，而媽媽會走出來把我們拖進屋裡，確保我們不會感冒。嗯，這些戰壕和那有點類似，除了沒有雪的白色、也沒有媽媽把我們拖回家裡。

覺總是不夠睡，但是能夠睡的時候，我卻會做惡夢。夢見你和我在雪裡玩，然後，突然地，炸彈和子彈開始四處散落；雪變成紅色，然後黑色，然後變成土；下一件我知道的事兒，就是你會走，消失在土裡，然後有人抓住我——我就醒了，感覺和我準備睡覺時一樣地累。我現在幾乎不能在夜裡睡覺，因為夜裡可以做所有的事兒。借着黑暗的籠罩，敵人看不到我們，我們總算可以放鬆一點 ，可以進行補給和進食。夜晚過得很慢，後來倒也沒發生什麼。

早晨還行。黎明前，我們會吃從後面戰地廚房送來的早餐。從那到我所在的前線是很長的一段路，戰壕間的供給隧道並不是很暢通。我一點也不嫉妒送食物的男孩。對於我們來說，所有不得不做的事兒就是坐在泥里進食。這兒的食物其實相當不錯，我甚至懷疑比你在家裡的配額還要好。早餐後就是戰鬥。不是你以為的戰鬥，我們根本不用從這些戰壕里衝出去。相反，當太陽升起來時，我們只是走到上面的發射台架上，給槍裝上子彈，並站在那兒。我懷疑德軍的戰壕里也上演着相同的事情。只有在一方發起進攻時，另一方才有可能去保衛他們自己。通常，我們只是站在那裡，什麼也不做。如果叫到我上發射台去，我就要在那裡呆上兩個小時，然後才能離開。離開後，我會有點兒用來放鬆的時間，做做整理和雜事兒，例如修理戰壕的牆或是收集供給和彈藥。那之後，我們要接受一個高級軍官的檢查，再之後就是一些休閒時間，我會利用這段時間給你寫信。

夜晚比早晨難過些。天氣冷是一個因素，但不是主要的問題。主要的問題是老鼠。它們以數以百計甚至數以千計的數量出來，稍微動一動就會踩死其中一隻。我現在已經熟悉了踢到和擠到它們時所會聽到的那種尖叫。它們四處亂爬，身上、供給上到處都有，有些老鼠甚至還會爬到我的臉上。我們厭煩了所有的滅鼠方法，因為看起來好像我們殺死一隻後，反而會回來兩隻甚至更多。我只是希望對面德軍那裡有我們兩倍多的這種令人討厭的齧齒目動物。

除了老鼠，還有泥。是的，白天也有泥，但在晚上當它變得又涼又粘滑時則感覺糟透了。近來大雨淹沒了戰壕，泥水高達我的膝蓋！泥不僅僅是讓我們很難走動，也相當地致命。我被絆倒過一兩次。除了又濕又髒之外，掉進泥里就好像掉進一個雪堆里一樣，一旦倒下則很難起來。我聽說在後面的幾個戰壕里，有一個戰士溺死在了泥里。那並不奇怪，因為就看泥有多深。幾天以前，黑泥齊到我的腰。我的腳因為一直呆在雨水中都變得麻木了。我希望雨會停下來。聽一個軍官說如果這個情況再繼續下去，我們就會得戰壕足，將不得不把腳砍掉！

泥…..老鼠……不斷地擔心我們可能被轟炸……還有別的什麼嗎？沒什麼了。然而不要可憐我。你應該看看別的一些戰士。事實上，不，我不想你看到別的戰士。你無法相信我失去了多少朋友。死亡……我一直都沒有說這件事兒。與看到倒下的同伴們動不了的身體相比，那些泥和老鼠都算不了什麼。有時剛才我們還在說着話，接下來，子彈開始到處散落，就象惡夢中的一樣。然後，大掃除之後，我看到他，躺在那裡，躺在地上。我將他翻過來，設法弄醒他……但他醒不了了……他走了……走了。這麼生氣勃勃的一個靈魂……總是歡快地……我只能希望他去了某個比這個地獄般的地方好的地方。我甚至不知道他的名字。在開始的三個人之後，我就懶得去知道他們的名字了。我一旦知道他們的名字，就會覺得他們與我是如此地親密，那會讓我在當他們死去時，承受極大的衝擊。噢，看哪，又一個！是那個被派到拐彎處的男孩（我們的戰壕是Z字形的，以便子彈不能直直地射倒他們）。他是什麼時候死的呢？我不知道，但是我確實很高興於不用不得不去埋葬他。

對不起，我有點失去理智了。我並不是想聽起來這麼……痛苦，但這是事實。我不得不讓自己對所有的這些殺戮不敏感以便不會被壓垮。我要處理許多這樣的事兒，但是死亡……死亡不是很容易就可以忽視掉的。我的周圍全是陌生的和熟悉的腐爛的屍體，我目所能及的地方全都是。從某種意義上說，我們就像是老鼠，對於每一個死去的人，第二天總有一個人會取代他。還有味道，腐肉的味道……汗味兒……一些我無法分辨的別的酸味兒……不幸地是大雨並沒有將這些提醒死亡的東西沖走。我簡直無法再容忍自己看到這些屍體了。隨着時間的逝去，我學會了忽視他們，但是有時，我所認識的人們的臉會跳到我的面前，近得我無法避開也無法抹去。這甚至比一個戰士消失了而我並不知道他去了哪裡還糟。我很高興你能安全地呆在家裡，阿比蓋爾，離這越遠越好。

再說一次對不起。我並不想說這麼多關於死亡的事兒，可是我滿眼都是。讓我們看看，還有什麼沒說？我想一次說這麼多足夠了，是吧？再說一次，請不要給爸爸和媽媽看這個，我不想讓他們有更多的擔憂。

現在很安靜。除了炮彈轟炸（你會認為這種時候象是發生了地震似的）之外，通常並不嘈雜，但是現在，比平常還安靜。我們中許多人在打盹，我也應該打個盹了。噢！水已經下降一英寸了。太好了！牆也覺得幹些了。好了，我要去打盹了。照顧好自己，阿比蓋爾。注意安全，過得高興點。我不知道什麼時候還會再寫信，或者我是否還會寫。但是，不論我的命運如何，你一定要答應我照顧好自己、還有媽媽和爸爸。我想念你們。

愛你的哥哥，埃德蒙

【小哭介紹背景】這篇寫給阿比蓋爾書信體小文，是Susan他們在高級社會學課上的一份作業，存在我的電腦里已經不少時日了。昨天晚上查日期及Susan他們的網上成績清單，知道應該是第二季的作業。作業的名稱就是“第一次世界大戰家信”，背景是關於世界第一次大戰中的塹壕戰（又稱戰壕戰或壕溝戰，網上有詳細的介紹資料）。Susan說作業的要求是書信體，但是寫給誰完全自己定，可以寫給任何一個家人，不過要以英國士兵的口氣寫，並且是介紹那場戰爭。很不好意思地說，我沒有弄清楚具體的細節，因為我對一戰所知不多。

Susan說網上有很多相關的信息和文章，而她所需做的工作只是搜索、閱讀、消化吸收，然後以第一人稱寫封家信，介紹戰爭的情況。昨天譯第一稿的時候，我竟然給譯哭了，今天進行修正的時候，就沒有哭的感覺了。看來這篇小文的催淚指數還不算很高，而那篇關於聚會的文章，我可是每次讀都會眼睛濕濕地。

我問Susan關於此文的一些具體細節，比如戰壕里的情況，是她的想像還是資料里提供的。她說完全來自於資料。關於水有多深、老鼠有多多、死亡有多慘重這些都來源於網上的資料，網上有大把這方面的信息。再問她最後一段關於哥哥對妹妹的囑託，也是最催淚的地方，出自哪裡？她說那是她編的，她想寫得感人一些，我說我確實被感動了。可是，為什麼這麼感人的書信，卻只得了36/45*100%=80分呢？她說她也不知道扣分扣在哪裡。不過，她翻出來了第一季的一堆作業紙給我看，可是我真的沒有時間細看這些內容。春假要來了，我要再安排一個孩子們的大聚會；另外還有N多的事情，我都想去做，所以這個作文為什麼扣了那麼多分，就留着以後有空的時候再去研究吧。我憑着直感告訴Susan，寫作文得看看老師的要求是什麼，這作文可能是沒有達到老師的各項要求；文章雖然感人，但是感人並不是老師考評作文的唯一要求。然後就結束了關於這份作業的交流。

要說最後一段，還真的是讓我挺感動的。這段的寫作風格，有點像她去年寫的小說。話說不管那小說的情節安排得合理不合理，她確實把小說寫得很催淚，大把的細節描寫讓人沒法不感同身受。書信的最後一段確實讓我對埃德蒙在戰壕中面對死亡的那種心情有了一種共鳴，我甚至想到了阿朵為《巨流河》寫的介紹，戰爭的殘酷常常讓熱血男兒對生的渴望和對親人的愛戀顯得那麼地執着和無奈，讓人沒法無動於衷，沒法不被感動！這封家信激起了我翻譯Susan作業的熱情：）本來都覺得她最近的作文已經翻譯得差不多了，這若要是再把她前一陣子的作業也撿起來翻譯的話，就又有活兒幹了。看來是真的要跟着Susan讀一遍美國的八年級了！

附上英文原文：

Dear Abigail,

As I am writing this letter to you, I am sitting in a trench, my back resting against the damp wall. My feet are wet. The ground is covered in mud; it has been raining for days now. You cannot believe how wet it gets in here. Just a few hours ago, it has stopped raining, so I am able to write to you without fear that my precious paper would get ruined.

You said, in your last letter, that you wanted to know more about what it’s like out here. Oh, dear sister, trust me, you do not want to know. I am afraid of giving you nightmares. But, if anyone can handle it, it’s you. I just ask that you please do not read this to Mum and Dad. They are already worried about me as it is.

Remember how, in the winter, we use to build snow forts? We use to hide behind them and throw snowballs at each other, and Mum would come out and drag us back inside to make sure we don’t catch a cold. Well, these trenches are sort of similar, except without all the whiteness of snow, and without a mother to drag us back home.

Sleep is scarce, but when I do sleep, I get nightmares. Nightmares of you and me, playing in the snow. Then, suddenly, bombs and shell fire would start dropping out of nowhere. The snow would turn red, then black, and then to dirt. The next thing I know, you would be gone, lost in the dust, and then someone would grab me—and I would wake up, still as tired as I was when I went to sleep. I can hardly sleep at night now, because that is when all the activity happens. That is when, under the cover of the darkness so that the enemy can’t see us, we can finally relax a bit and get supplies and food. The nights pass slowly, and nothing really happens then.

The mornings are okay. Before dawn breaks, we would get breakfast delivered from the field kitchens at the back. It’s quite a long way to the front lines were I am right now, and the supply tunnels between theses trenches aren’t that smooth either. I don’t envy the boys who bring the food. As for us, all we have to do is sit in the mud and eat it. The food here is quite well, actually. I would suspect even better than the rations you are getting back at home. After breakfast comes all the fighting. Not fighting like you think. We don’t rush out of these trenches at all. Instead, right when the sun comes up, we just step up onto the firing platform, load our guns, and stand there. I suspect the same thing is going on in the German trenches. Just in the case that one side attacks, the other side would be able to defend themselves. But usually, we just stand there and do nothing. If I was called up to the firing stand, I would stay there for about two hours before getting relieved. Then, I would have some time to relax before having to get up and do some other chore, such as repairing the trench walls or gathering supplies and ammunition. After that, we were subjected to an inspection by a senior officer, and after that, some leisure time during which I am using to write you a letter.

The nights are a bit worse than the morning. They’re cold, for one, but that is not the main problem. The main problem is rats. They come in hundreds, maybe even thousands, making it impossible to move around without stepping on one of them. I have now become familiar with their squeals as they get kicked and crushed. They crawl all over the place, on bodies, on supplies, some even crawled onto my face. We have tried all sorts of methods to get rid of them, but it seems that for every one we kill, two more comes back. I just hope those Germans on the others side gets twice as many of these rotten rodents as we do.

Aside from the rats, there’s also mud. Sure, there’s mud in the daytime too, but it always seem much worse at night, when it’s all cold and slimy. The heavy rainfalls lately have flooded these trenches and have created muddy water up to my knees! The mud not only making it difficult for us to get around, it’s also pretty deadly. I have tripped once or twice. It like falling into a snow draft, except wetter and dirtier. Very hard to get up once I fall. I heard that in a few trenches back, a soldier drowned in the mud. That is not surprising, seeing how deep it can get. A couple of days ago, the blackness was up to my waist. My feet are feeling numb from being constantly in the wetness. I hope the rain would stop soon. I heard from an officer that if we develop this condition called trench foot, we have to get our feet chopped off!

Mud… rats… the constant worry that we would get bombed… what else? Not much. Don’t feel pity for me, though. You should see some of the other soldiers. Actually, no. I don’t want you to see the other soldiers. You cannot believe how many friends I have lost. Death… that is a subject I have not talked about. I do not wish to talk about it. I do not wish to think about it. The rats. The cold. The harsh conditions. They are nothing compared to seeing the motionless body of fallen comrade. One moment we were just talking. The next, shells start dropping out of nowhere, like in my nightmare. Then, after the dust clears, I see him, lying there, on the ground. I flip him over, I try to get him to wake up…. But he just wouldn’t wake up… he was gone… gone. Such a bright soul… always cheerful… I can only wish that he went to somewhere that is better than this hell. I do not even know his name. I have not bothered to learn names after the first three. After I know their name, it makes them so much closer to me, and so much more of a shock when they die. Oh, hey look, there goes another one! It’s that boy that was stationed right around the bend (our trenches are zigzagged so that a bullet can’t be fired straight down them). When did he die? I don’t know, but I sure am happy I don’t have to bury him!

I’m sorry. I got carried away there. I did not mean to sound so… bitter. But that is the truth. I have to desensitize myself to all the killing in order to not break down. I have enough to deal with as it is. But death… death would not be ignored that easily. All around me are the rotting corpse of both strange and familiar faces. I see them everywhere I look. In a way, we are like rats. For every one that dies, there is always one to replace him the next day. There’s the smell, too. The smell of rotting flesh…sweat…some other sour smell that I cannot place…the heavy rains unfortunately do no wash away these reminders of all the death occurring in this place. I cannot bear to look at some of the corpses. Over time, I have learned to ignore them, but sometimes, the faces of people that I know jump out at me, and it is near impossible not to fall down and start weeping. It’s even worse when a soldier disappears, and I do not know where they went. I am glad you are home safe, Abigail. The further away you are, the better.

I’m sorry again. I do not want to talk about death this much. It’s just that it’s everywhere I look. Let’s see, what have I not went over yet? I think this is enough for one time, no? Again, please don’t show Mum and Dad this. I do not want to worry them more.

It is now very quiet. It’s usually not loud except for the shell bombings (you’d think there’s an earthquake happening during those!), but now, it’s even quieter than usual. A lot of us are taking a nap. I should take one too. Oh! The water level dropped by an inch. Wonderful! And the walls feel dryer too. Well, I’m off to my nap now. Take care of yourself, Abigail. Stay safe, and stay happy. I do not know when I’ll write again, or whether I ever will. But, regardless of my fate, you have to promise me you’ll take care of yourself, and Mum and Dad. I miss you.

With love,

Your brother, Edmund