When I enlisted in the army, I never comprehended the atrocities I would come face to face with. The war is brutal and I cannot even keep track of how long I have been out here serving my country. Do I regret my decision? Most certainly not, but at times I do wonder what life would have been like if I had just never gone. I am about to write about the conditions I have faced and they are rather disturbing so be prepared. We are engaged in a type of war tactic commonly referred to as trench warfare. It is a tactic in which we lay in dug outs we created as enemy fire passes us overhead. Within this trench each man keeps with him, his most prized possessions and constantly rechecks them to ensure they are still with him. At times it almost seems
The war had dragged on for longer than anyone could have imagined. Damage on the Western Front. Millions dead. Food rations significantly reduced. Again.
Brock looked up in the sky, the sun seemed an odd color, a little more reddish than he was used to. It was also later in the day here than it had been on Earth, judging by the position of the sun it was close to noon here. They were in a large clearing in a forested area, some of the trees looked familiar, but there were many that did not, some of them were very alien colors, with strangely shaped leaves, odd barks and impossibly twisted branches and trunks. At first no sounds came from the forest, the animal life no doubt shocked into silence by the whump and the concussion blast when the two worlds parted ways after their brief interspersion. Slowly the living creatures resumed their normal existence and eerie sounds never heard on the Earth
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.
The horrible rumbling of the ground started again. I couldn’t look. It gave me distance from my heart and soul, whilst the soviets struck back with old-time Stalinist savagery. The entirety of the Hungarian army was encircled by a sea of red. Tears began to stream down my cheeks.
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.
Loud noises seemed to scare me, I have no idea why but screeching tires, Revving engines, screaming children, and even the occasional barking dog will get me on edge and paranoid. In my younger years I joined the US Air Force as a way to get away from everyday life, I just wanted to get out of the everyday monotony of work, sleep, wake, repeat. The only thing that brought me any kind of variety was my sweetheart back home, Hazel. We met in high school when I was just 17 years of age, somehow we are still together today through the night terrors and struggles I constantly suffer.
It’s been awhile since I’ve written to you, my dear sister, and I suppose it’s my fault for not being able to keep up with writing. However, it is a little depressing about the bigger reason I wasn’t able to write to you. You must be worried sick, Lucina, but there’s no need to be worried about me! We both know that I can handle myself just fine in any situation, it’s what I was trained for, anyway. Anyway, aside from the babbling, I’m currently in Marne, and we were advancing, until the French and British stopped us.
The men described hours of waiting and crawling along trenches. When the firing began, one can only pray that nobody got hit.
I was a coward who spent most of my time in a dark cave reminiscing on my failure as a friend. As dark as the cave was, so was my mind. There were so many things I was afraid to shine a light on, but one needed to be remembered. There was this man I liked so much that I couldn't help waving his thoughts out of my mind. Kevin Bigger, dark, tall, and agile with a rectangular face structure; he was ready to serve.
There I laid on the hard and rigid mattress, in a room so cold and damp that you could hear water dripping continuously out of the battered and rusty pipe. As the young guard approached my cell, slightly vigorously threw a ration through my cell hatch. “время есть! (Time to eat!)” lilted the guard. Rations are military made for soldiers on the battlefield and are specially made foods inside the ration pack that can last for days on end.
I’ve felt a lot of pain in my life. Physical pain, Mental pain. Just, pain! I have suffered with anxiety, I have had sleep troubles, I have grieved. But I can imagine the pain, or sorrow, confusion or despair that lurks out there on the battlefield.
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.
The bloody hands of freedom Fear, hunger, illness were all horrid feelings I felt, but there is a small glimpse of hope and passion that might get me through the hard times. We stood our ground and when I thought we had given up, the French came on April 13,1778. I was not going to become a summer soldier but yet after a 2 year of enlistment some of my brothers deserted us. I have decided to re-enlist for three reason which knowing that the war is going to be hard but I am going to fight, my pride for my country, and love and passion.
Why Is Telling A True War Story Hard Lots of stories are hard to comprehend because they’re more brutal and traumatic for listeners, even the story-teller. In three stories: “The Man I Killed”, “How To Tell A True War Story”, and “Speaking of Courage”, Tim O’Brien showed how changing certain parts of a story and making them graceful, can make them easier to comprehend. However sometimes telling the story the way it was makes it brutal and gruesome, though some listeners prefer that over gracefulness.