Diary Entry- World War 1
Dear Diary,
5th March,
1915
I cannot escape the pungent smell of rats, blood and the decomposing of dead bodies, running through the muddy trenches. It has been twelve days since I was summoned to the frontline and I am unable to escape the harsh brutality of war, which has now become my reality.
The noise of the loud artillery has deafened my ears. My animalistic desires have surfaced. The constant bombardment of gunfire from the enemy has circulating in my head that, alerting me that any second could be last. The overwhelming shellshock of our company has brought the inner determination out of me. Given that each side's front line was constantly under watch by snipers and lookouts during daylight, movement was logically restricted until nightfall. Therefore, once men had concluded their assigned tasks they were free to attend to more personal matters, such as the reading and writing of letters home.
Meals were also prepared, but they were nothing compared to my mother’s warm roasts. Sleep was snatched wherever possible - although it was seldom that men were allowed sufficient time to grab more than a few minutes rest before they were detailed to another task. The lifestyle was difficult; the deterioration the war has brought upon my body is incredible I would be lucky if my body was at its full potential.
The trench conditions were horrific, and the smell of the thick mud and the dead bodies at first almost made me vomit, however I have now become accustomed to it. I come upon rats the size of rabbits nibbling limbs of dead bodies. Splatters of crimson blood trickle from everywhere, it’s a sight that I could barely look at.
My hair and clothes are drenched from the heavy rain. My bones are frozen as if it was ice; I’m worried because my legs are numb and could barely feel the feeling in my toes. I couldn’t dare to take my boots off, as I am know I will have trench foot. The moist conditions could not help my feet and day by day it pains to walk.
During the day your ears ring from the constant bombardment of areas and exploding bombs. The terrifying cries of the wounded and witnessing a once soldiers life being taken by a rifle. Each sixty minutes someone I’ve known or someone in our area tragically lost there life. Greif is not on our agenda we move on from it and continue to battle. At night I think about the loved ones at home and cry when will peace be settled. My brain constantly ponders on the fact ‘when will I be put out of my misery’. It’s all too much for me. Some days I contemplate suicide but my will power to stay alive wont let me do it.
John Smith,
Cadet
5th March,
1915
I cannot escape the pungent smell of rats, blood and the decomposing of dead bodies, running through the muddy trenches. It has been twelve days since I was summoned to the frontline and I am unable to escape the harsh brutality of war, which has now become my reality.
The noise of the loud artillery has deafened my ears. My animalistic desires have surfaced. The constant bombardment of gunfire from the enemy has circulating in my head that, alerting me that any second could be last. The overwhelming shellshock of our company has brought the inner determination out of me. Given that each side's front line was constantly under watch by snipers and lookouts during daylight, movement was logically restricted until nightfall. Therefore, once men had concluded their assigned tasks they were free to attend to more personal matters, such as the reading and writing of letters home.
Meals were also prepared, but they were nothing compared to my mother’s warm roasts. Sleep was snatched wherever possible - although it was seldom that men were allowed sufficient time to grab more than a few minutes rest before they were detailed to another task. The lifestyle was difficult; the deterioration the war has brought upon my body is incredible I would be lucky if my body was at its full potential.
The trench conditions were horrific, and the smell of the thick mud and the dead bodies at first almost made me vomit, however I have now become accustomed to it. I come upon rats the size of rabbits nibbling limbs of dead bodies. Splatters of crimson blood trickle from everywhere, it’s a sight that I could barely look at.
My hair and clothes are drenched from the heavy rain. My bones are frozen as if it was ice; I’m worried because my legs are numb and could barely feel the feeling in my toes. I couldn’t dare to take my boots off, as I am know I will have trench foot. The moist conditions could not help my feet and day by day it pains to walk.
During the day your ears ring from the constant bombardment of areas and exploding bombs. The terrifying cries of the wounded and witnessing a once soldiers life being taken by a rifle. Each sixty minutes someone I’ve known or someone in our area tragically lost there life. Greif is not on our agenda we move on from it and continue to battle. At night I think about the loved ones at home and cry when will peace be settled. My brain constantly ponders on the fact ‘when will I be put out of my misery’. It’s all too much for me. Some days I contemplate suicide but my will power to stay alive wont let me do it.
John Smith,
Cadet