Creative Writing: All Quiet On The Western Front

“Sure they do. But with this war, and the introduction of the bomb, the stakes were fought on an even grander scale. The Germans could have annihilated the English at Dunkirk if the skies were clear for the Luftwaffe. Think of how much more difficult it would have been had not the German Army froze to death by the Russian cold. Think of how the ebb-and-flow attacks from the Battle of the Bulge were influenced if the skies cleared. The advantage in that battle was all about the weather. The rough waters from the Normandy invasion forced the Allies into a one day delay but over ninety-percent of the tanks were never able to set forth in battle mostly because of the raging sea. And the possibility at Midway if Japan’s Carrier Hiryu wasn’t hidden inside a storm we could have had an extra carrier. While the American

Tobias Wolf uses imagery in his short story “Bullet in the Brain” which provides a visual portrait to capture attention to the story. He clarifies in an interview with Sanford University what a short story requires, “You want large results from it, and you 're compelled by its very shortness to using all your resources of language, form and understanding” (Schrieberg 1998). He uses language in the story which offers various instances of imagery describing Anders as weary and elegantly savage in his reviews. In each scene of the story Anders observes and uses biting words to offer his approval or distaste. While waiting with the customers at the bank, with the thieves, with the gun shot and with his recollections there is a deeper vision into his brain. The use of imagery in his short story provides a distorted image of the character Anders, not the real image of the man but one with passion for the use of words and happiness.

Hello, this is Kelsey Maley reporting from a battlefield in France during spring of 1914. As you can most likely hear, the battle is booming behind us. The gunshots and cannon fires can be heard from miles away. From where I am standing one can also hear the cries and screams, and running horse hooves from the war below. Looking down we can see the khaki and grey uniforms either riding horses or hiding in trenches and with guns or swords. It is hard to concentrate on these men in uniforms because of the dirt and smoke covering the air around them. Walking up here is difficult because of the bumps in the ground. One may be able to feel the rumbling and shaking ground every time a cannon is fired. Each side is obeying the screams from their comandor

The sun was nowhere to be found the dark clouds combined with ash and smoke blotted out any form of light, destruction was everywhere. Wheat fields were ravaged by fires, and towns were reduced to rubble. The ground that was once dark brown soil was now churned into large masses of mud filled with the stench of death. In the mud trenches and foxholes were dug in which many men inhabited, not by choice but out of pure necessity.

The rain was relentless. It turned blue skies to a bleak, wretched grey. The soldiers too, had once smiled like the sun, proud to be serving their country. Now, they could only see bullets in their future, striking through their body and leaving them to fall as a dead weight. Their fate had already been decided: six feet under in a wooden box.

After abandoning the camp we stumbled across the country side and found a house. As we sit by the wall, we think about our fellow soldiers now in heaven. I look up to the sky to see shepherds delight or more like the resemblance of the blood of the abandoned. Why everyone was quiet, I don’t know. There probably just tired from the great determination. Many of us seeking an end but will be disappointed and become depressed. Trepidation of death has occurred in several of us.

You have successfully entered enemy territory. You and the other recon soldiers have crossed the distance of open plain, skirted the barbed wire, and are close to the enemy trenches. You all lie on your stomachs in the mud, rifles in hand. So far, the going is good. You don’t seem to have been spotted, and no shouts of alarm split the air.

only for an hour or two but 1 day a green light gas came threw

Hi Mom! Hope you're doing well. I'm sorry that I haven't been writing to you in a while, things have just been pretty hectic here. None of us have been getting any sleep around here because we are all stuck in these trenches and are always on guard. Every morning, we'd get up and look around. We always have to stay in the trenches unless our "leader" yelled "Over the top", which means the call to attack.

By March 1915 the influx of refugees from Belgium was almost at an end and Epworth played host to a social reunion consisting of games, dancing, and songs to bring together all those who had been housed in the Isle. Part of the entertainment featured songs from Mrs. W. Hirst and Mrs. R. Stephenson and a pianoforte solo by Mrs. Breeze. The month saw farmers becoming increasingly rueful; the fine weather created ideal growing conditions but a shortage of men and horse hampered progress. Indeed, there was concern that horses in the Isle were being ‘worked to death in order to make up for the lack of numbers.’ Members of the Belton VTC celebrated the opening of their new rifle range where Mr. G. H. Newborn exhorted them to use it well to learn

He saddened every time he thought of his mother and couldn’t bear the consequences of leaving her behind. Luckily, Friederick was always there for him, comforting him along the way.

Jimin wakes up to the sound of explosions and fire. A thousand and some men meet their demise each day, and Jimin prays at night he’s not one of them. The war rages around him, and he gets off the make-shift bed to get changed into his gear to help out. He caps the patterned helmet and looks at himself in the mirror. His reflection stares back, sad and weary, a youth gone wrong. He smears camouflage onto his face, high on his cheekbones until there is nothing left of him but an empty vessel of war.

At some point, their ears had finally given in to the echoing shots and yells and had dulled to the point where they could barely hear anything at all. The students - cut, bruised and bloodied - lay upon the ground. Dead or hiding. Hoping for mercy, for that’s all they had left to hope for.

I am composing my first journal passage with my dim light I acquired from the naval force. I am sorry if my words are scrawled. My hands are shaking with adrenline. These narrow, trench boundaries appear to be shutting me in excessively, suffocating me. All I can smell is thick, dull smoke.

(G) This war is starting to really affect my men. (C) I understand George but, I cannot give you my men. (G) Yes General I know you can’t and I will not force you. I just ask that you think about it not for me, but for the people. (C) As you wish George, I will think about it but do not get your hopes up. (G) Thank you General and I will not. (C) Your welcome George. How is your wife doing? I haven’t spoken with her in a while. (G) Thank you for asking she is doing just fine I will let her know you asked. (C) So George, what is your next attack plan? (G) I am not fully sure there General, it is as if the British can read my mind. They are always alert on the attacks. I was planning a surprise attack but I am not so sure if I should go on with it now.