Journal of Theodore Morrison

Entry 3

14th June, 1916

Dear Diary,

Today was the day.

We were finally prepared for the journey to the Western Front, and we were all very excited for the upcoming trip. Traveling was not a luxury everyone could indulge in, and for most it would be their first and last trip abroad. I, myself, buzzed from anxiety and apprehension.

Crowds milled around us, exiting the train and heading in each and every direction, rushing like waves.

Finally, our train arrived. It was a great thing, the train. With its massive body and numerous wheels, the steam billowing in the wind, its great gleaming black surface reflecting light. It made a massive screech as it came to a stop, and I saw the length of the railroad it had passed over and felt dazed at the thought of the long journey. The train couldn't ever be compared to any other transportation, I had decided. It was so long, no wonder people used it often to travel far. We soon went onboard with the command of Marshal Douglas Haig.

The trip was long and as time flew past us, the anxiety of the upcoming battle ate me up from the inside and out.

We were about to fight against the Germans alongside our ally, the French in the north-east of France. The first thing we would do, the moment we landed, would be to get to the trenches. We had had practice building them, but having to actually use it as a defense mechanism would be quite different... and possibly more challenging than I originally thought. I spent most of my time on the train looking out the window, drowsing, or talking with Michael and Archie in hopes of calming my nerves.

"You will be home before the leaves fall from the trees," Archie had assured me, repeating the lines from Kaiser Wilhem II.

Although he meant well, I felt my hope ebbing like that of my hometown... Far gone.. Too far gone that it would be no use giving up now. I'd made my choice a long while ago and I would not change a thing.

 Finally, the long and arduous trip on the train ended and we arrived at the port, where the fresh sea water tickled our nose and the soft wind hummed a beautiful tune. It seemed to soothe our worries and it felt great to be out under the sky once more.

The ship was unlike any I'd ever seen... At least, from the newspapers. It was gigantic, enormous.. Humongous in its glorious beauty, with its long, gleaming metal body. The captain of the ship saluted each and every one of us as we went onboard.

Our trip on sea was spent training and training and training.

We were soon going to arrive in France, and the reality of what we would be facing seemed to strike us deeper, harder.

Some days, training would be torturous, with the rocking ship and the gust of wind determined to knock us to sea, and it would lead to soldiers being seasick. However, we made up the next day by practicing harder, building our stamina more and more.

On the last day of our spending on sea, I remember Marshal Douglas Haig saying, "Every position must be held to the last man; there must be no retirement. With our backs to the wall, and believing in the justice of our cause, each one of us must fight on to the end."

Some broke their composure, eyes glistening as they saluted.

The first few steps made in France were... not quite what we had expected.

I knew war had taken its toll on our ally, but I had underestimated the german's power.

Demolished buildings, blood soaked streets, and bodies.

Men.

Woman.

Children.

Elders.

They were all dead.

I had not known these people as friends.I had not been there before.

But the terrible thirst for vengeance simmered through my veins making my heart shatter into a million pieces, so much so that I had the gut to kill everyone of those evil minded germans.

Why, though?

Why would I care?

Why should I care?

They were not my friends.

They were not my family.

They were not my neighbors.

I hadn't been there to save them and it was not my fault at all.

But the single string connecting us all made it so unbearable to see them there.

Innocent.

The citizens of France had not asked for this war.

I knew then that I had to protect this land with courage and pride. I had to. I was a soldier, they were not. And to think the Germans would even consider attacking innocent civilians with no weapon, no defenses, but only a willing heart to fight?

Cold, merciless, cruel, they were, them germans.

As we marched along, a child called, "Hé! Soldat monsieur, s'il vous plaît, sauvez-nous tous. Vous avez vu le désordre, non? Vous êtes notre dernier espoir. Ne nous laissez pas tomber."

Although I couldn't understand what he said, I nodded, saying the only word I knew in french, "Bonjour. Comment ca va?"

"Pas si bon. Comme vous pouvez le constater, ma ville natale a pratiquement disparu," the boy replied, laughing.

"Votre nom?" I asked.

"Pierre, monsieur."

"Merci, Pierre. Tu es courageux," I had said, because he really was brave. I didn't know how I would have reacted if London had been bombarded by germans, at such a young age.

"Je veux être comme toi un jour, un soldat. Un jour, je me battrai pour mon pays, pour que personne n'essaie de nous faire du mal," Pierre had said, pointing his finger at me and my badge.

I realized then that Pierre wanted to become a soldier to fight for his country. He reminded me of my own son, Charlie, and I felt moved.

"Bien sûr. Un courageux aussi."

Smiling, the child looked at me one last time with his hazel eyes, saluted me, then ran off towards his mother, who dipped her head in respect, calling, "Bonne chance, monsieur. Que les Allemands aient pitié de vous."

As we marched closer and closer to the western front, we could hear gunshots and bombs-breaking the peaceful silence. Fear made my heart beat more rapidly than ever before and the realization of the war hit closer to me than ever before.

This was no child's game.

This was a real battle.

And I was going to try my best to survive and kill as many Germans as possible. 

Finally, we reached the trenches. It stretched across, winding around in jagged lines with the stink of putrid, rotten, human flesh hanging in the damp, morning air.

I felt quite excited-my motivation to fight mainly coming from the support I received from Pierre and his mum.

I would fight like a real man.

So when it was time to split duties, I volunteered to go to the front line trench.