Postcards were the Snapchat of their day: (almost) instant messages sent with accompanying picture to reassure the receiver of the good health of the sender. For soldiers serving in World War I on the Western Front, they provided quick communication with home; often scribbled on breaks from marching, postcards were the counterpoint to the considered letter. Cole shows the pictures chosen by soldiers serving, as well as reproducing the messages, thus serving to confirm the notion that the British are obsessed with the weather: seemingly every postcard includes a comment on whether it is wet or dry, hot or snowing, while generally eschewing any mention of the actual war. This highlights the stoicism and restraint of the men (and women) of the time: a nurse, serving in a field hospital taking casualties from the Somme, in her first postcard home after the start of the battle, writes about the weather (naturally), asks after her mother’s health and sends thanks for letters received. Not one word of the casualties filling the hospital. Of course, this may in part have been because all postcards were censored, but the overwhelming impression is of brave men and women seeking to protect their loved ones at home from the full reality of war.

The two best chapters follow a pair of nurse friends and two serving brothers through their wars, setting their postcards against the events which they faced. Although I began this review by saying postcards were the Snapchat of that time, it’s hard to believe we would respond with the same understated bravery if ever we were to face such trials.

The book concludes with three useful appendices on researching First World War postcards, including what can be gleaned from the censors’ mark and the army post mark.

(Review first appeared in issue 32 of History of War magazine.)