Diary of an unknown soldier [DEMO]

Chapter 1

November 22nd 1914 Ypres, Flanders, Belgium.

James Gardner, British Empire.

I have been sitting here for a while now. We just ended the battle of the Ypres Indecisive however. Yet, I still fear that this isn't quite the end. It's almost the end of the year, so the war will hopefully have ended soon. It's supposed to end by Christmas after all. I can only hope that our Russian friends on the eastern side is doing their job.

I have all my faith in the power of the British empire. We will win this war. And it'll be over by Christmas, then I will finally be able to see my wife again. Oh Charlotte, how I miss you so very dearly. I send her letters every month around the 26th to let her know that I am indeed still alive. I have however requested from a dear comrade of mine to send her a piece of cloth with my name on it together with a white rose, if I were to die in battle.

And he has requested the same of me. However, I will have to find a white rose quickly, as it isn't easy when artillery strikes has blown up more or less every single flower here in Flanders. Finding even a withered flower will be hard. We are currently eating. Hard bread and some soup is all we get. But it is difficult to concentrate on eating, or writing for that matter, while I constantly hear my comrades screaming out in pain from a lost leg or trench foot.

I am thankful that I don't have to deal with either of these problems. Although hearing the pained moans of my harmed brothers in arms is worse that any physical pain I have ever had to endure. What is worse? The smell. The awful stench of rotting the corpses that gets revealed in the mud when it rains.

It constantly reeks of rotten flesh and blood. All these things packaged together by the constant sound of barbarding artillery strikes from the enemy lines makes it impossible to sleep at night, at least I am not alone in this. Many of my comrades, now brothers in arms, have told me about their constant lack of sleep. I don't blame them.

November 23rd 1914 Ypres, Flanders, Belgium. 

James Gardner

It is currently half past five in the morning. We are all exhausted. I could not get a single second of sleep last night, A younger soldier who slept next to me kept weeping, crying out for his mother. Arthur, I think his name was. He as well as every other young man from his village had signed up for service, naively thinking this war was going to be some great adventure.

A simple obstacle to overcome. He, just like me was believed this would be a quick war, a war that would be over by this Christmas. No later than that he kept saying when he first arrived, with a smile on his face. But that smile quickly disappeared after he lost his right hand in an artillery blast. Ever since then, he had cried every single night. Shouting "mother, I want my mother" Poor bloke.

We are currently moving, Arthur has been partnered up with me, however he clings to me like I were his bloody father, He is only ten years younger than me after all so I cannot for the life of me understand why he is so persistent. But the boy has been through a lot. He lost his right arm to an artillery explosion. He had to manually remove a bayonet from his left eye after just barely escaping death in a bayonet fight with a fritz. All this and the boy still followed orders, was it out of fear? or was it just because the poor bloke was already so broken that he didn't know anything else? I will have to talk to him personally later.

As me and my comrades now line up in our trench for a quick morning roll call; I notice just how cold it is without us moving about.

And more than that; snow. I can see snow on the ground, It's almost winter I think to myself as I look up and down the trench, observing the white cold frozen water slowly falling from the heavens.