School Essays

History(Diary in the trenches)

25th of August, 1916

Dear journal,

Today is yet another day that I'm stuck here. The fighting's been going on without end. Lowly times, these are. It doesn't seem like it'll end soon, too. And we have to fight in horrible conditions. It's cold, and it rains often. Not to mention there's mud everywhere as well, which doesn't help. We have to go to sleep with wet clothes far too often. Not that we can get much sleep, of course. We have to stay up most of the day, getting a few hours of sleep in the afternoon when the light still shines, and at night you can get an hour's worth of sleep, if you're lucky. Most of the time we have to stay up to do the daily chores, like digging more trenches, patrols and putting up barbed wire. The barbed wire is, of course, for defensive measures. It doesn't mean jack when there are constantly shells landing everywhere. The explosions make terribly loud noises. But it is nowhere as bad as in No Man's land. It's the piece of land between our trenches and those of the Germans. It's barren land with no over, an absolute hell to get through. And it all seems so pointless to me from time to time. We've been fighting for so long, and so hard and for what? A few metres of mud? The worst part is that sometimes, it looks like it'll never end.

26th of August, 1916

Dear journal,

I'm glad that i have lived through yet another day to be able to write this. Yesterday, thankfully, nothing happened. The only bad part is that we never know when the next attack will be, and we constantly have to be of our guard. There's barely been time to rest. There is now, though. It's quiet. And I hope it stays that way.

28th of August, 1916

Dear journal,

It seems I was wrong. Five minutes after I wrote the entry, shells came out of nowhere. Then, we got orders to attack. Do you know of the horrors of No-man's land? There are shells exploding all around you. I have seen my comrades running next to me one second, only to be blown apart the next. I have seen the effects of the so-called "mustard gas" up close. The poor soul inhaled the gas, didn't manage to put his gas mask of quick enough. He died that same night. He coughed his lungs out, literally. There were big, red blisters all over his body. I fear that one day, this will happen to me, as well.

29th of August, 1916

Dear Journal,

I am dying. Earlier today, we received orders to attack. When we went through No-man's land, I got caught in an explosion. They managed to retrieve me, but because of all the shrapnel in my body is killing me. I won't survive the night. I just wish I was home. My mother, my father, my sister... I wanted to see them one last time...