Life On The Western Front-Personal Narrative

The great man tinkered with his little motor. He worked in an eerie silence. The echoes of metallic tools reverberated through the area. The workshop was very spacious, a large opened room with several cluttered work desk scattered about the area. Loose pages littered the tile floor, stretching from wall to wall; illustrated with the man's genius rantings.

The Western Front, while the main focus of combat in WW1, many Australians ignore this part of the war, as they focus more on the Gallipoli campaign and its legend. However with the centenary of the First World War here, many people have begun to realise that Australia was involved in other theatres of the war, and not just Gallipoli. The focus of this essay will be on the Events leading up to Australia’s involvement, the weapons of the western front, life in the trenches, trench warfare, The Battle of Fromelles and the End of the war.

“GAS! Gas! Quickly men!” I remember that day like it was yesterday. The new recruits were training and were trembling in their boots. Sergeant Williams they called me. I was the officer in charge of B company, preparing them to protect themselves from the mustard gas bombs they would encounter in the trenches. “GAS! Gas! Quickly men!” I would roar like a great lion and they would rush to get their masks on.

World War I was a time full of despair, it saw courageous soldiers valiantly defend our freedom, leaving families behind to face the prospect that their loved ones may never return. Upon the arrival of ANZAC’s in Gallipoli on the 25th of April 1915, the mateship strengthened with

I hope you are not distressed, nor should you worry about my return. This will be my 11th and the final letter I am sending home, my dearest apologies for the lack of letters, the war isn’t the place I thought it would be, the climate and conditions are horrid. The rest was the worst part, having to switch patrol areas to protect the frontline for hours, and then rest for a minimal time. Poor Jimmy died later earlier today, they say it was from diseases and sickness. I’ll need to be careful down in these trenches, fleas, and bugs crawling all over me. The ground is like quicksand, all the missiles, explosions and gunfire have turned the dirt into a sinking pile of mud all over the battlefield. My team, my second family are mostly gone… I don't

It is March first, I miss you so much it is unbearable. Sleeping can be awful out here in the trenches only because I want to be home in a comfy bed again safe and sound where war isn’t the only thing on my mind. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and I can’t breathe because I dream someone has invaded our trenches and shot me. It isn’t easy being out here but if it means fighting for you then it is what I will do.

It is with a heavy heart that I write to you all, but I do hope you all are well. It has been a rough three months since I've joined the other nurses in aiding this war and needless to say I have settled in and adapted to the conditions. Since the beginning, nothing has changed within these 3 months, neither side had gotten much advantage of the war. It would be as if a back and forward tug of war between the two sides. Everyday I watch from the tent as hundreds of men rot away in the horrid conditions of the trenches. Many were brought in but many doesn't mean all. After barely being treated and having about a week of recovery soldiers were sent back to suffer in the battlefield. A few weeks ago a huge storm crossed the battlefield. The trenches

The meadow near the Western Front was nothing compared to the vast fields of the prairie back home. There, in what seems like another lifetime, was a harvest full of life, colour, and promise. Here, there was only death and harshness. Trevor, our Commander, had once described the scenery of these fields in France before the chaos. He had said it was filled with little red flowers and high green grass. After three years of fatalities and rain, the scene shifted to represent the misery. There was no colour here. Our uniforms that had once been a deep green were now covered with dried mud. The scene before me was bleak. The sky was gray; as it had been since the first day we made camp in these trenches. The ground was muddy with small pools of

Meanwhile, a specific sergeant tried to make my life harder. This sergeant enjoyed agonism which “occurs among those who enjoy fighting for its own sake and who perceive trading insults as a type of game” (p.21). I constantly tried to filter out the words being filled in my head, but my internal dialogue had been so negative and judgmental for so long I really believed the bad things. I could not and did not understand that I was good person with many good characteristics. I was fighting 2 wars in a combat zone, one against terrorists in the desert and the other inside my head.

All bullets were counted, beds made, uniforms cleaned, this occurred until suddenly 03:45 arrived. “Men, the time is nearly here,” my words choked as self-hatred flooded my body, “What we do here today will be remembered for generations to come, we fight today not only for ourselves, but all who we know. All our mates and family who live back home!” A faint cheer followed my speech as I steadied myself for what was to come. “We charge in 5 minutes. We charge not only for our freedom but for the freedom of our country. For the freedom of the world!” Spit filled the air from the cheer which erupted from my unit this time. A unity formed over the men, a cold malevolent sweat captured me. Who was I to send these boys to their death? A resolve set inside me, I would fight alongside my men, their lives are worth the same as mine. 04:00 “THIS IS IT MEN! WE FIGHT FOR THE WORLD!” I screamed as I led the charge. Vaulting out of the trench I saw no man’s land clearly for the first time. Death was everywhere, flies swarming the pools of blood. The land so barren of life no greenery was seen. A cold resolution set over me, it was the Germans fault, they caused

survive them.Most of the time in a critical situation, the first thing that comes to mind is

I was assigned my first mission, I was transported to the German army I have waited for this moment; for my line of duty that I would be apart in. Everyone was in a complete panic; all over the news was constant reminders that Austria army has declared war against Serbia. I knew that it wasn't going to end well, then again, doesn't war never end well? Bloodshed, men dying. Bombs. It was going to be complete chaos. Chaos, chaos, chaos. The thing that never ends. Everyone always getting their underwear tied in knots; because of something someone didn't like; or got accused of, and is determined to prove that it wasn't them who did it and decided to point their finger and get another country of billions of people. Now, everyone in every once

turning my head again I saw Simon dive to my aid. He did not utter a

“Now I stand by my brother’s grave who I killed just because of war. This war has changed me, made me into a monster, a person that kills people. But now that I killed my brother its like I am being tortured repeatedly with guilt. Sometimes I say to myself, what’s the point of war if we are trying to get peace when there is no one left to have it. When I joined the army, it was to protect my country, but it changed to protect my country and kill whoever gets in the way. I wish war never existed and any fight would be resolved within a debate or something professional. Even though I try to forget this I can’t since I felt the pain of others of the lives I ruined. I don’t know what to do now, should I go home and tell my family how I monstrously

Hello, my name is George Alexander Robertson, and today will be talking to you about my life before, during and after Gallipoli. I was born on the 3rd of January 1897 in Tocumwal, New South Wales. I served with the first Australian imperial force and I fought in Gallipoli in World war one. I have won three awards for my services – 1914-15 star, British war medallion and the victory medallion. (Gould, 2010)