Called to the Headmaster's Office

Bullets flying through the air right over me, my knees are shaking, and my feet are numb. I see familiar faces all around me dodging the explosives illuminating the air like lightning. Unfortunately, numerous familiar faces seem to disappear into the trenches. I try to run from the noise, but my mind keeps causing me to re-illustrate the painful memories left behind.

On April 24, I managed to drift off to sleep, but a scream awoke me. Ahead of us, an unbroken wall of gas crawled towards the trenches at ground level. Someone down the line had fallen, clutching his chest. Bullets whizzed, shells roared and soldiers fell. Screams were cut off as the gas sucked the life out of the victims. They struggled to suck oxygen into their corrupt lungs. Attacking their bronchial tubes, the chlorine leaked fluid into their bloodstreams. The victims suffocated, drowning in their own fluids. The Algerians' eyeballs were white, coughing until glue came out from their mouths. The gas roamed the ground, giving the German snipers and machine gunners a clear aim at the sprinting soldiers. While the alley men opened fire at our backs, I bolted away from that hell containing abyss. I dragged myself off the muddy battlefield. My lungs burned with chlorine and my hip was torn by shrapnel. To neutralize and protect me from the gas, I urinated on my handkerchief and shielded it to my face. This is not civilization, it is madness.

I threw my arm out in fear and tried to block every hit. I remember just yelling and screaming but no one was coming to help me, only because I was a black man. I was laying on the ground as the trooper walked away from me, he walked away as if he was done with me. I saw his face before everything was blurry, he was wearing a gas mask, but I couldn't believe what was coming next. There was a bang and what sounded like hissing snakes as everything got blurry. It was tear gas. There were screams and cries all accompanied with smacks and kicks. I couldn't imagine what was going on I could only think how thankful I was that my beating was finally over. I stay laid on the ground as all the sounds got quieter and quieter and everything grew dark.

I looked down at my yellow tunic and blue pants. Unlike other soldiers around me, I didn’t have armor. Our commander slowly brought us to a stop in front of what appeared to be Constantinople, the city we sought to take over. We had been attacking the city for over a month and still we hadn’t made it past the protective wall. They laid a chain across the mouth of the Golden Horn to stop our ships from approaching the city. “Charge!” Our commander yelled from atop his white horse. I took off running with towards the walls. As we ran I smelled body odor, blood, and death. The sound of heavy breathing, crossbows being fired, swords clashing, and screams of pain filled my ears. Dead bodies littered the ground around us. As I neared the wall I threw the ladder I had in my hands against the wall and started to

We all, as a people who have not seen the real war, are left in a state of confusion and uncertainty, when it comes to think about the war times, without real information and impressions of the combatants. Of course, looking from the bigger frame, there is no any event that had demolished the valuable heritage of humankind. But if we get closer, “we cannot, indeed, imagine our own death; whenever we try to do so we find that we survive ourselves as spectators”. People often try to imagine a war, in which 18 years olds had been killed mercilessly for the sake of their land, mothers of the soldiers lost the piece of their hearts and women had waited for their beloved ones even if they knew that they will not come. We are the people who did not

All we can see and smell are dead bodies. The stench of the bodies make me feel sick inside, its constant, even when we have time to eat we can smell it. When we were moving around today we came across one of the spots where some of the blokes had been fighting. The sight made me feel sick to my stomach. The Japs must’ve been here to seek revenge, there were soldiers who had been killed and had their back and legs cut off, their flesh had been cooked. After seeing this, I just can’t handle it anymore. I’ve decided to go

I still remember the dreadful day of pain, seared into my memory for all of eternity. The salty smell of blood filled the dark and smoky air. Gunshots rang through the air, echoing through the trees; yet the white flag flew high above us. Bullets rained from the sky knocking leaves and needles from the tree limbs and cut perfect circles through our tepees. An infant cried out hidden in the blood of his dead mother. Then, in the shower of deadly metal, a silver raindrop passed through the infant’s head and for one fateful second, everything became silent. Yet the rain of death persisted causing even more fatalities. I remember running as fast as my legs could carry me, trying to keep up with the rest of our people while doing my best to hide from the rain of death falling from the heavens.

The sound of screaming and swords clashing outside jolted me awake. I found myself pressed against the wall, sword and shield both in hand. The thane shouted commands to destroy everything in sight. With that, the sound of death was on the other side of the wall. I heard my mother’s screams become instantly silent. An army man shouted, “One down! The other cannot be found, sir.” My stomach became knotted as I thought of my mother, lying on the ground with no hope of waking up. I should have burst through the wooden door, swinging my sword in every direction until I heard the last breath of each Rine there. Instead, I sank to my knees and wept as I listened to the Comitatus invading my home. I waited for the thanes to come here and kill me as they did my mother. My father had managed to escape, but there is no way he could save me. However, I knew he did not care to anyways. The sound of men approaching the door took my breath away. My sobbing became uncontrollable. I heard the wooden door creek open, as I sank deeper and deeper into the dirt beneath me. A feeling of helplessness over took me. My life was over. The Rines had a mission to kill everything they saw, and I knew they saw me. One officer yelled,

Living in the trenches is extremely horrible, even though I have only been in it for two days. Although, it is clever that these trenches, that are created by digging in the mud, are designed to protect us from machine gun fire. They are muddy, and when it rains, the mud can slowly trickle onto my outfit. These trenches are rat infested, and the filthy rats always steal the last morsels of food that we have. We use the backside of our shovel to smash and kill the filthy rats. When I first smashed a rat, blood oozed out of the rat and its body was twisted. Nobody could bear to watch that horrendous sight anymore. I immediately ran away; it was the first living thing that I had killed in my entire life. I felt happy but remorseful at the same time. Here in the Western Front, clouds always block the rays of the vivid sunshine; the

I walked around the mound and faced a frightful common grave. Tightly packed corpses were heaped so close together that only the heads showed. Most were wounded in the head and the blood flowed over their shoulders. Some still moved. Others raised their hands and turned their heads to show that they were still alive. The ditch was two­thirds full. I estimate that it held a thousand bodies. I turned my eyes toward the man who had carried out the execution. He was an SS

Swords crashed against shields like a field of doors slamming shut in the wind. Arrows whistled through the air; a murder of tiny crows swarming above us vulnerable soldiers. The grunts of men impaled by hafts and sliced open by steel join the cacophony of a battle raging into dusk. Wet warmness would splash across me in response to the dying cries of my comrades as one after another of those we battle would push our shields apart and break the line. The ground was wet and sloppy, dried earth had been turned to slush by a rain that did not fall from the sky. The ground was rendered difficult to manoeuvre through, encumbered by the lifeless figures of soldiers now without the allegiance that lead them to a face in the dirt.

As we arrived at the beaches of Normandy by the command of General Eisenhower. Bullets sprayed through our boat with ease we all hit the deck and then ran up to the beach. Young men falling like flies without even touching the rocky sand. Blood taints the water with a stomach churning burgundy hue. I slowly start to crawl around behind enemy lines, while I'm doing this I feel a sharp pain through my calf. I turn around in horror that i've been shot, I see a very slim figure with a totenkopf on his hat and i pass

Blind to the truth of what really happens. It’s times like this where I am forever grateful for the experience I have already been faced with gruesome events. Yet that hateful feeling of dread continues to tower over me each and every day. It’s challenging to recall what it was like for me the first I set foot on the battle field, as it seems like a lifetime ago. I suppose that I have lived a lifetime in these trenches. I wish that with every enemy I shoot it shall not say with me. A constant reminder of our sacrifices, I’m on edge as it feels like a continuous want for death. Bewildered as to when it will strike again shaken by the fact that it could be me carried away, or left in the barbarous

I was informed of a Hauptmann (company officer) was in the area and I was to kill him. The german forces were set up in the town square so I snuck into one of the buildings nearby to get a good shot on them. There were four of us assigned to the mission but I was to take the shot at the Hauptmann. As we waited for what seemed like hours the Hauptmann finally came out into the open. I set up my rifle and lined up my scope with the target I saw something I wish I didn't see, the Hauptmann was Heinrich little did I know he too joined the war but he quickly rose through the ranks and now my friend, my brother was at the other end of my rifle and I had to kill him. I didn't have much time and my companions were getting uneasy so I had two options shoot my brother and help win the war or let him live and possibly make the war last alot longer. So I did what had to be done I squeezed the trigger, everything went quiet as if the world stood still, a tear rolled down my left eye as I realised what I had done. I came back a hero everyone loved me, but what I would give to go back to those days in

I wandered across the street, the gravel crunched under my feet. I hear my dad yell my name “Amira.” I run toward my house. My dad tells me to lock the door as soon as I am in. Click, goes the lock. But, something’s not right, my dad is still outside. I look through the peephole in my door. I see 5 men in camo uniform with guns charging at my dad. They stop one meter away from him. The soliders raise thier guns. Aim. Fire. Bang, Crash. I can’t see anything except bright red blood. I scream. I hear the soldier’s feet crumble on gravel and the sound becomes more and more faint. I open my door and there in front of my eyes, my dad covered in thick blood. I roll up into a ball and start shaking. My throat starts closing up. Suddenly I hear a soft,