Creative Writing: All Quiet On The Western Front

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.

(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.

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.

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

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.

Bullets whizzed over their heads, spat out from the german machine gun.James sat crouched with his back pressed against the sludgy wall of the trench.The clouds covered the sky like a dark blanket, not a single sunray to be seen.James forcefully ripped a grenade off the coughing corpse next to him, he pitied the poor soul choking on gas, noticing the crimson puddle his head was surrounded by. He cocked the hammer of his revolver, took aim and abolished his misery He threw explosive holding on to the ring. A few moments passed and silence filled the air.

“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

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.

I write to you today from a hospital bed in France. I know that may sound bad, but truly I am one of the lucky ones. I have lost so many friends in this past battle. I am sure you have probably heard news of this back home in England already. The first day of the battle on the Somme was a dark day indeed. I have heard it word here that it could have been one of the bloodiest battles to date. I do not even know how to begin describing the war, but I have to describe it to someone. I would never want to tell my parents of these horrors I am facing; it would be far too much for them to bear. You are my closest friend back home, and I know if it were not for your health issues, you would be here fighting too, so I feel I can tell you about all this. I know I volunteered for this, but I never in a million years could have predicted what war would truly be like. Looking back on it though, we are truly lucky that Britain is a country that relies on volunteer

Both local newspapers began to signal, albeit discretely, that war could be approaching its end. Reports spoke in guarded terms about German difficulties and in the ‘Letters to the Editor’ columns, there were encouraging words, leaving readers in no doubt that a resolution was close. Talk in shops and at church services built on the speculation. When news of the imminent German surrender reached soldiers in the front line it was greeted with silence. ‘We did not cheer,’ one soldier recalled. ‘We just stood, stunned and bewildered.’ He continued: ‘On the stroke of 11a.m. the CO raised his hand and told us that the war was over. Then we cheered, with our tin hats on and our rifles held aloft. For old hands like me, it was funny realising that the day we had waited so long for had come at

It was August 1915, I commanded the 3rd division consisting of 3 brigade; the 7th, 8th and 9th. All ready to attack the western front. On the very north end of our trench, I have my 7th battalion and on the south end I had my 8th and 9th brigade. For the 7th brigade, I would have them enter the NorthEast forest by day, hidden by the shrubbery but still having daylight I am hoping my men can make it halfway through the forest before it hits nightfall. Once nightfall comes my men would use the night to move out into the farm near by and take cover by that fence. Once they have made it to that fence the 7th battalion shall, if they see necessary, to call in an artillery barrage to help them break a hole in the far north end of the Germans trenches

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

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.

My heart skips a beat. All I can think of is Ben when he crumpled on the ground, his arm sliced by the soldier’s sword. I rush over, pushing Perta, and the others out of the way, my breath caught in my throat in relief to see that Melok’s fine. He sits up, his face red, but his breathing fine. He even takes Perta's hand and stands up to talk.

Are both of you doing fine? I miss you all so much. It's been a month since I've written a letter for both of you. Sorry for making you guys waited for so long. The Battle of Vimy Ridge ended a few days ago, and I am glad I got the chance to write a letter for both of you. As I mentioned in the previous letter, I was hired by Canada to be the war artist. I was excited at the moment when I was told to do so, but my feeling faded during the real battle. This was the most intense battle that I had ever seen in my whole life. I was frightened and feel like escaping during the battle because I do not want to sacrifice my life.Constant shelling of the lines was a daily part of my life. Bombs, Bullets and dead body were surrounded me. Some of the