Creative Writing: 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

Francis Dougherty here reporting live from the World War One battlefield on the French countryside on this scorching hot summer afternoon. I have been told that the British are planning an ambush on the Germans any minute now so I am here to get an inside look at all the action. This warm weather is providing a very hot and dry sensation today. Looking around right now you can see long trenches stretching across the horizon like a slithering snake. If you look closely you can also see clusters of barbed wire dotted across what the soldiers call, “no man’s land.” Well will you look at that, off in the distance you can see the British Cavalry making their way towards us. Any second they are going to takeoff into a full sprint, coming in fast

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.

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.

Can you imagine, living in a trench that is five feet deep, and you constantly have to duck from enemy fire. Diseases all around you .In bone chilling temperatures, not being able to light fire to keep warm or you'll give up your position, sleeping in a hole for a bed at night, dead and wounded soldiers all around you. Well for the English and German soldiers that was their reality.

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.

Then he cursed as though he learned it from a manual for sergeants, and his curses merged with the metal slapping air sound of a prop turbine. Dad heard the Bunge’s voice sputter. It sounded as if he stored his anger deep inside him. In order for him to access it, he had to pump it out, using every muscle in his stomach, back, and neck. Sarge cursed, rocking with the effort until his voice became a high-pitched hum.

It had been the war that brought us together, and its looming presence that threatened to tear us apart. It had been a bond born through the small triumphs found in absolute solemnity, a game of cards or chess buried deep in the mud of the trenches. But most of all, it was the music. The choral sounds of the accordion entombed within the gun-fire.

Finger agitatedly on the trigger, Robert rolls his rosary from finger to finger. As the thunderous winds vertically hit the fixed wings of the helicopter the soldier’s unease escalates. Swiftly the aircraft approached the drop zone and the glimpse of the dense Vietnamese jungles became clearer to the soldier. The fear of death increases the flow of adrenaline in the soldier as he rappels down the rope alongside the two veteran comrades. Touching down, the damp earth swallows the soldier’s boots. The aroma of smoke smashes the oxygen in the air, heading from the jungle.

(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.

We marched. We marched shoulder to shoulder towards the battlefields. Towards our death. Hundreds of the British Army marched as one to fight for their country. Determination was the only emotion I could read on their faces; ready to battle.

I am writing you now to express my regret for thrashing out on you. I understand now that you were just trying to prepare us for the war. Experiencing the war has been something I will never forget. I thought that it would be something that I would never forget for a the good, but to my surprise it is the exact opposite. The things that I saw can never be unseen. I have stood by soldiers watching their life drain. Being in the war has changed me and I do not know if it is for the better. The war has aged me beyond my years and I did not know how to deal with it. This is why I started to act out. My regression was uncalled for and I did not mean it against you. This was my way of coping with the losses of my fellow soldiers and what I saw in

The stone streets were a veil at this time of night, with who knows how many menacing horrors hiding behind the curtain. The lingering gas hovering over the ground was timid, dispersing at the sight of anyone who strayed near. The moon tried to pry into the city’s shadows, but it was too thick to cut. The buildings were nothing but faded memories: gray, eroded structures that once boasted splendor and beauty. Street rats, both rodent and human, scuttled about in the alleyways, knocking assortments over and fleeing if anyone walked past, just like the gas. A dog barked in the distance. Car horns blared on 5th Avenue nearby. Tank sighed. No place like home.