The war had dragged on for longer than anyone could have imagined. Damage on the Western Front. Millions dead. Food rations significantly reduced. Again. Everyone had seen those headlines. The same phrases had been plastered on the front pages of every newspaper for four everlasting years. Reports from aged soldiers; brave, bold boys and men; reduced to ghosts. And they were the lucky ones. Those who had escaped from the chaos that claimed the lives of thousands of others. [Although hope was broken and torn by the years of darkness, remarkably, some still remained./] And though there was little left, hope still remained. --- The twilight was noiseless, but for the dampened sound of my? feet moving swiftly through the grass. In the valley,
All that seems to be remembered is a reverie; a spectacle of valiance and bravery. The older generation —the ones who were there—simply became the collateral damage. The war, in all its infamy, can never be
However, things took a turn for the worst when “… all kinds of consumer products persisted and, in many cases, worsened after peace was declared.” (Corbis, n.d.) There were high numbers of food, fuel, and supply shortages everywhere because of how much was put forth for the soldiers,
Other times, the younger boys sat by rocks weeping and telling us that the rocks were their dead families. Then there were those instances when we would ambush the staff members, tie them up, and interrogate them about the whereabouts of their squad, where they got their supplies of arms and ammunition, drugs, and food” (175). The trauma from the war sticks with the boys and causes them to have an altered perspective on their
Once I got out of the medical tent, the month had almost passed and the trenches were fairly calm with the ending a year of fighting. The blighters just sat around in a quite lazy fashion, shaving their mustaches and greedily scarfing down the remains of their insufficient portions. It was a fairly quiet time compared to earlier incidents and episodes in the war. I was groggy and tired when I stepped back into the trenches, and even with many months of laying still in the hospital tent, my body and mind were still not replenished and in quite awful condition. The very strong medication the doctor had put me on did not help my grogginess in any way.
When we were told that the war started, I was right at the border. Of course, we were not sure whether we would survive or not. We knew we had to fight for real. We believed in Communist ideas. We had it with our mother’s milk.
Ellen’s point of view: Hello diary, tonight was a stressful night. German soldiers came looking for me and my family. I was so scared that they would figure out i was a Rosen and they would take me away and relocate me. They almost found out because of my hair and how i’m the only one with dark hair. But, the Johansens said that i was born with dark hair it just never fell out and came out blonde like most people.
A Week From 1944 It was Monday, May 29th 1944. The brisk winds chilled the air, and I could see my breath as we ran through the mud. My standard issue black boots failed to repel the moisture seeping through to my socks. It had been raining for days, off and on, not too heavily, but a constant soft mist regardless, and it saturated the ground like a gentle flood.
As I, Kaiser of Germany singed to enter into war under the pressure of my generals (Kaiser Wilhelm II) I solemnly reminded my soldiers that they will be home before the leaves have fallen from the trees (Wilhelm II). Three years passed by since then, and as I gaze out my window I sense the peoples’ desperation for food, and that they have forfeit their trust to us. The war seems to be a broken record player, instead of continuous music it produces incessant casualties. Also, Nicky and I have not spoken since the day war was declared.
The battlegrounds of the war were as repulsive as my hands, stained and cracked with dried blood that had turned into a murky brown. The acrid stench of gunpowder burned my nostrils along with the smell of blood. I rubbed my hands in cold water but the filth just wouldn’t go away. It clung to me like ivy, and I wondered if the poison would mar me forever. “Nurse Mabel Earp!
In Erich Maria Remarque’s, “All Quiet on the Western Front” the soldiers face fear, hardships, love, trust, and death together during World War 1. The question is, why? All soldiers were clueless to the reason why they had to leave their families, friends, and loved ones, only to return home to suffer from the mental and physical pain afterward. The novel focuses on Paul Baumer who enlists in the German army and experiences the horrors of war while trying to survive in the trenches. “War Some More” by Sandra Osborne connects well with the novel in the sense that war is brutal and brings forth hatred without a solid explanation as to why.
It took 250$ and good deeds to create some doctor like me. Growing up I was the kid who looked at the world with open optimistic eyes. I grew up in a small city called Dora located in Iraq, the middle of three girls. I was born in the late 90s, I have been told that I was born "at the end of the good days". That's when Iraq's political circumstances were not at peace at all, at 2003 another war broke in Iraq.
His personal accounts gave the reader only a slight insight as to what it might have been like to be a participant in the carnage first hand. There are copious accounts from other soldiers, generals, and bystanders that have gone unheard. The war was a puzzle that got solved as the country figured out where the pieces went. Sam Watkins’ stories help put the lost pieces back in place. His exuberant stories were a roller coaster ride of emotions and actions.
Traumatic events have become business, not real cause for concern. In the article “The Things They Carried”, Richard Ford explains that “the possibility of death without warning strips the innocence from even the most idealistic and romantic of the men” (Ford 2). Ford backs up the evidence in the story, the young soldiers who still retain their childish imagination and dreams become exposed to the most harsh realities of war. They can’t cope and retain their innocence, instead becoming shells of their old selves. The soldier's loss of innocence and compassion is best shown through Ted Lavender’s
Life at Valley Forge Brave, have no fear of someone or something. American soldiers represent bravery. The huts of the soldiers were very long and wide. The fireplace was in acceptable condition. No beds in the huts just straw and mud.