Creative Writing: All Quiet On The Western Front

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.

The next minute I felt a hand on my shoulder completely pulling me like a ragdoll back into the ditch. I could still hear the agony in the dead soldier’s voice. Then Larry exclaimed, “GET YOURSELF TOGETHER HAYES!” and began to listen to Lt. Arthur on what to do next. They were shooting at us from a small farmhouse to our northeast. All around us was as flat ground so we needed a diversion. Cover fire was ordered and we began to approach a bundle of trees near the farm house. Still recovering from the horror, I just witnessed, I ran for my life to a nearby tree where we were supposed to take cover.

The soldier hears a quiet whistle blowing in the distance but the sun hasn't risen. He hears people running and shouting “GOING OVER!”, before he knows it all the soldiers are all lining up against the wall of the trench and then he hears a voice shouting, but couldn't make it out what the voice was saying and then before he could even blink his eyes everyone suddenly started running over, all he can see is his friends getting mowed down like blades of grass by the enemy's machine guns. As he runs across, charring the enemy head on, he can't help but think that above the trench makes hell look like a picnic. As he gets to the enemy trench, silence falls across the war zone and then seconds later a gunshot breaks the silence, but the soldier is life less on the ground with the gun in his mouth. No one never knew what was in that trench to make him do what he did that day and no one

Awakened from hellish reverie, from the sounds and the feelings of blood and of fury, blanketed in the shadow of a forgotten struggle - the warriors on the battlefield stop.

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 ran instinctively towards the enemy, without fear, without worry. I saw an enemy; he was wearing a brown shirt. Wait, wasn’t that my uniform? I looked down, it was grey. With that information it was a reasonable enough to shoot. Bang! His head had a hole bigger than my fist; it was like a glass you could see through. I felt no remorse, he wasn’t my ally. Shots were exchanged rapidly. Each bullet flew faster than a plane, ending life as we know it. Onwards we marched into the calamity, me and my squad. I looked carefully at each face; I didn’t recognise who these people are. I looked at their name tags, I couldn’t even read it. It was in a different language, was it in German? I don’t remember them... What is going on? Before me there was an ambitious beast, the M4 Sherman. My squad got demolished by a hail of bullets from the beast. My heart

This is Luigi writing to you, and I have gravely missed you. I am now in a dense forest in Northeastern France in the Aisne-Marne Sector near the town of Chateau-Thierry and Belleau Wood near the Marne River. Specifically, I am in a muddy, wet, rat infested trench. The German trench is farther north, and the area between the trenches is called “No Man’s Land”. I am a Private in the 3rd Infantry Brigade lead by Brigadier-General Lewis in the Battle of Belleau Wood. I am one of the people in combat in land, which is why I have to be present a lot of the fighting. This is part of a larger American 2nd Division lead by General Omar Bundy. Essentially, I am part of the US Army. In a typical day, I spend most of the time guarding the trench; however,

The full moon shone brilliantly in the black night sky illuminating the frost covered ground. I sat shivering in the trench, clothes in tatters and covered in mud, my teeth chattering. I was tired, hungry and scared after all, for all I know I could be the next person to be sent through no man’s land in the attempt to reach the enemy side. I wiped my mud-caked hands against the side of my pants and pulled out a can of “Maconochie” from my bag. I silently opened the tin listening to the quiet chirping of the cicadas. I could see the cooking smoke wafting towards the sky from the enemy’s trench. I could hear my friend snoring. Then, I heard something unnatural, something I’d never forget for the rest of my life. Singing.

A group of US soldiers are behind guerrilla forces about to ambush them when they loses track of his location and their compass malfunctions resulting in them getting lost in dangerous terrain. Their radios also stop working because of the density of the amazon rainforest. They are forced to apply the survival skills taught in training to survive whilst making sure they aren’t detected by enemy forces. They expect to hear gunfire soon to indicate where both of the forces are but no skirmishes ensue. They are forced to make the tough decision of making a signal that could attract the enemy or their forces or trying to hide their presence which could lead to US forces not detecting them but also hide them from enemy guerrilla forces. Then as

A sudden light, it had killed the troopers who were once in the induced slumber the humble hums of the bus wheels had once caused, they had awoken. Loud roaring commands, firing in my ear. It was now just the norm, the pre-routine that had been drilled into the bee’s heads... Our heads. My ears started to ring. The bumbling excitement had roared up again and the lights shone against my eyes just like broad daylight did. I squinted, sheering away the fake

I open my eyes and the soldiers look like there frozen in time the bullets are suspended in the air. But simultaneously I can hear their bones crack blood pouring out of every possible hole in their bodies. Time starts again the General looks at me and says,

I felt the people around me disappear into nothing more than moving colors as I focused on the person in front of me and allowed myself to ignore the rest of reality. Close enough to shoot through the heart. I readied my gun, checking at the same time that it was safe to shoot. I held it up in a perfect position and aimed. The bullet went straight through him. I moved on to the next Lobster, killing with the same accuracy, all the while reassuring myself, “No one need think that the world can be ruled without blood. The civil sword shall and must be red and bloody”(http://www.military-quotes.com/forum/andrew-jackson-quotes-t23640.html). The fuzz around me started turning scarlet to crimson as the fight continued on. This battle has been going on for days, maybe even weeks now, and I have not allowed myself the time to relax. I have lived by the phrase, “Take time to deliberate; but when the time

“Yeah let’s go” I said sounding confused. We ran to get to a truck that was full of U.S fighters. Guns started to fire. Huge tanks were in front and behind us. brian started to shoot something in the distance. A person. He fell down. What’s happening? I asked myself. What’s going on? I saw someone, the person next to me said to shoot him. I asked him why. He said to just shoot who ever I see if they have different colors than us on.

I can no longer remember what life beyond the front was like. I long for life and yet I cannot seem to find it. I yearn for the long days spent relaxing with my mind at ease. The days when adulthood seemed so far away, when growing up was not viewed as a problem. Life on the front seems so repetitive; bombardments come and go but never disappear completely. The barbed wire fence is the only object between us and the other soldiers. Bodies are piled on top of each other above the muddy ground. The corpses only seem to accumulate each day. The dry grass looks as if it had been growing without water for years before the war had begun. Yesterday, the enemies’ tanks approached our camp, destroying the barbed wire fence in the process. We retaliated

A minute later enemy horns blew near the road. The long moaning sound probably was trying to warn the war bands of our presence. For some reason a rising rage filled me as I thought the enemy would try and spoil our assault. However, the massive melee before us had no formation on either side of the line. Men driven half-mad with battle lust were too far gone to listen to horns of command. The Raiders slaughtering the 2nd company hadn’t noticed us. Even with the 3rd company feeding in men to hold off the massive attack on the 2nd company, their numbers had been savaged. Not surprisingly, the chorus of the battle’s clash became dreadfully loud as we cut the distance to the back of the fighting.