Creative Writing: All Quiet On The Western Front

The din was frightful. Billie was crying as usual. Dave and Sol-leks, dripping with blood from a score of wounds, were fighting bravely side by side. Joe was snapping like a demon. Once, his teeth closed on the foreleg of a husky, and he crunched down through the bone. Pike, the malingerer, leaped upon the crippled animal, breaking its neck with a quick dash of teeth and a jerk. Buck got a frothing adversary by the throat, and was sprayed with blood when his teeth sank through the jugular. The warm taste of it in his mouth goaded him to greater fierceness. He flung himself upon another, and at the same time felt teeth sink into his own throat. It was Spitz treacherously attacking from the side.”

“Some of the students fell and rolled down the hill. They screamed at the soldiers that they were once again betraying the people. One girl rushed down the hill and grabbed one of the soldiers by the arm. He raised his pistol and pounded it on top of her head. She fell to the ground, her face covered with her own blood” (pg.34)

Jeanne was aware and scared at the time but overcame her fear living at a camp for almost four years of her life. The living situation for the Japanese families was horrendous, but Jeanne’s story was captivating and caused me to hope for the end to interment camps.

Moshulatubbee looked at the man with a baffled expression across his face. He cocked his head as if he were questioning the man. The soldier slapped the confused man’s cheek and continued to scold him in a foreign

Before she knew it, she heard the scary sound of fear. Troops came marching down the street to her door. They said no words to her, but drank ale instead. She sat at her table and waited for Jeff to save her. The troops tied her up and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed. They knelt beside her with muskets at her

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 was almost as if the world had become brighter, more alive. She saw the moon glowing through the window behind the armchair, and felt as if she had been jolted awake from a deep sleep. An electric shock- painful, stinging- spread throughout her body, and made the image of Reesa screaming in front of her very vibrant. But Marya could not hear her screams, nor her pleas of mercy from the large, muscular dark figure that held her back from reaching Marya’s hand, from taking comfort in her one and only friend’s reassuring touch. She saw Reesa’s father step out from behind the muscular man, baring a wicked grin, and whispering vengeance into her ear, but she did not hear

Historical details about World War II within the works make it more than just a story, connecting the fictional writing with real historical facts. The accurate and descriptive details regarding the conditions and treatment in the concentration camps and ghettos, the need for survival, and the endless amount of rules that the Jewish characters have to follow resemble actual history. In the novel, after Sarah and her family are arrested they are sent to a concentration camp located in Poland, called Auschwitz-Birkenau. While in this camp, Sarah provides readers an in depth description of what the conditions were like in the concentration camps, specifically in the barracks, which is where all the prisoners are kept:

This description serves to exemplify the twisted things that people would do in order to save themselves. Not even the traditionally strong bond that exists between mother and daughter is strong enough to convince the mother to ride to her death alongside her child. Arguably one of the most important characters that is being sent to death appears next and is described as having “enchanting blonde hair, with beautiful breasts, wearing a little cotton blouse” (Borowski 2259). This description serves the important purpose of adding hope to the camp as the girl is able to behave calmly and seemingly happily even though she knows the fate that awaits her. In addition to this hope that is added, the girl also shows how the war affected everyone and that no one was safe from the Nazis. Another character that plays an important role in the story is “a huge, swollen female corpse” who was being dragged by some of the prisoners. This lady is described as a “mound of meat” as she is haphazardly thrown onto the trucks (Borowski

The door was locked though, Angela thought. Where in the hell could Lillian be? She wiped sweat away from her forehead with her arm and decided to call for help.

A recurring theme in the novel is the idea of people who fight in the war and people who become affected by the war both share a heavy burden of trauma and suffering. As the story unfolds, Kien recalls his position as a platoon commander responsible for collecting corpses, but then turns in for the night on a hammock on a transport truck very close to the edges of The Jungle of Screaming Souls. Being a survivor of many gruesome battles within this jungle, Kien suddenly begins to suffer from vivid flashbacks of his time fighting. He also recalls the desperation of him and his comrades, who would consume

She jerked awake, alert, frightful, pale blue eyes darting around as if she expected to see the faces of soldiers closing in on her once more. The wagon she occupied was blissfully empty, however; for what it was worth. She eased only slightly, her sleeping mind and its dark memories receding as recollection resurfaced and she remembered where she was. Like a frightened, feral animal she was curled into the farthest corner of the enclosure, her knees tucked up against her chest and encircled by her arms, while her wrists were securely shackled by a distinctive blue alloy. Her legs and arms were littered with abrasions, her bare feet and ankles still stained with the blood of her sisters, evidence of the massacre that had occurred only a day or so prior. The linen shift she wore had once been a pristine nightgown, but was now dirty and ripped in several places, the collar torn so much it exposed the naked skin of her right shoulder and draped almost low enough to sacrifice what remained of her

It was a calm summer morning as Shirley’s golden hair tossed in the wind as she walked with her father, her emerald eyes glowing with joy and pleasure. She wore a scarlet short sleeve-shirt and jeans that came to her thighs. But this was only the cover. For if you looked deep into her emerald eyes you saw the remains of pain and suffering. If you could see through her cover of scarlet you could still see the scars of torture she could not run from.

She is trapped, with her back against the ropes, her guard is down. His words are thrown like wild punches and in all her efforts to sway and avoid the punches. Her body stood still. She was defenseless. This misery turned into everyday normalities.

“Did you know how many of my men she slaughtered?” He asked before charging on. “Of course, you did. You helped break the bitch out of her cell then carved your way through my home. It is a shame, really” he mused. “You both must have separated as I never saw you until the guards brought you to me. Would you like to know how she died? Your cousin,” he spat out the word like a curse, “kept trying to reassure your drunken