Creative Writing: All Quiet On The Western Front

There were many brave heroes at the battle of Fox Hill but one Private Hector Cafferata’s story stands above them all.  On the first night at Fox Hill, Cafferata found his foxhole surrounded by the enemy as the Chinese passed through the gaps in the American lines during the first night of the attack.  Two enemy riflemen

troops on a hopeless humanitarian mission pulled out of Mogadishu, Somalia. A few Americans realize that during this mission, U.S. troops had the most continuous and gruesome battle fought by American’s since the Vietnam War. The afternoon of October 3rd, 1993, soldiers of Task Force Ranger, and Delta Force were sent to capture two lieutenants of a rebel Somalian warlord and return to base. This mission was supposed to take 30 min, but instead, the soldiers were pinned down in the middle of Mogadishu market and in a desperate effort of kill or be killed. For about 20 hours, U.S. soldiers created a bloody firefight that resulted in 19 American fatalities and the death of 1000 Somali fighters. Black Hawk Down tells the story of that desperate battle, from all angles of the war.

“FIRE!” the captain screamed. The battle was at a draw with both the British and Americans firing volley after volley of lead at each other. The air was filled with smoke, the screams of dying men, and rumble of artillery near by. Then, all of a sudden the British pulled back and headed to their camp. The Americans were also heading back to their camp. The battle had started 2 days ago and both sides couldn’t break each other’s hold on the other. Both generals didn’t know what to do, but both vowed to never surrender.

During this time, as wounded and deceased soldiers arrived at the hospital in England, Joe was forever affected by what he saw, smelled, and heard. The deceased were charred lumps. The smell of burned flesh filled the nostrils of the medical staff. The painful wailing of the injured, suffering from horrific burns, was heart wrenching. Joe had never seen such devastation and destruction before.

We all sleep and rest and eat in the trenches, but it’s not paradise. One night, the sound of loud booms woke us up. We were being attacked by some very dangerous artillery. We could feel every boom and every crack in the dirt above us. Many soldiers were not prepared for this and got sick. The attack come out of nowhere and frightened all of us.

Robert and the remaining African American troops lay waiting anxiously for reinforcements to arrive in the darkness behind a large mound of sand. The air reeked of blood, and gunpowder. Only an occasional breeze from the ocean brought a douse of fresh air. Silhouettes of their fallen comrades in the night could be seen sometimes whenever a cannon was fired an lit the sky for a moment. The ominous fate of death was like a fog surrounding the battle at Fort Wagner.

Approaching the American breastworks in the pitch-black night was not the most reassuring feeling in the world. True, our forces were far superior to the motley crew of American soldiers that lay before us, but confidence could only do so much for a man in my position. The thought of dying at the hands of these insane, untrained American soldiers crept into my mind and distracted me from my surroundings. Stumbling slightly in the darkness, I stopped dead in my tracks when I realized just how close we were to the breastworks. I held my breath and crouched down, as did many other men around me. All other sounds around us ceased. Slow, cautious movements and near-inaudible whispers came from behind the breastworks. I scanned my dark surroundings

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

but this time, they finished at dawn, due to the higher caution. It was still dark and there was not any daylight, when they were returning somebody suddenly heard a clack from the minefield. He alarmed the others. Fear had left everyone breathless. There was a strange reticence. Everyone was expecting a horrible thing. The longer the silent moments of waiting, the bigger the people's panic and fear. They were sticking to the rocks and sandbags more and more, like they were rooting into the soil. The clack repeated in the field. The troops got on standby in prone position. The critical circumstance had taken our breath away. An urgent call was made to the division headquarters which was on a high alert. The mortars and artillery groups were

No one has ever enjoyed learning when they were being forced to do so; luckily they don’t need to be forced any longer. How things are presented to someone directly affects their interpretation, this fact influenced Mark Bowden to set all norms aside as he wrote his book Black Hawk Down and used uncommon techniques to allow students to make connections on their own about the event of the Battle of Mogadishu. The Battle of Mogadishu took place in 1993 in Mogadishu, Somalia, quickly becoming a terrible situation for many Delta Forces and Rangers as they seemingly fought an entire city, unprepared. Themes within the book Black Hawk Down include: moral decisions, brotherhood, and nationalism, but these

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.

The carnage at St. Francis deserves a brunt of the detail. It was now good marching ground and the men pressed on with celerity till on the 22nd day after their departure from Crown Point, one of them, by climbing a tree, discovered the village of St. Francis at three miles distance, when the party were ordered to halt and refresh themselves. At eight o'clock in the evening, Major Rogers, Lieut. Turner and Ensign Avery left the company and went forward for the purpose of reconnoitering the place. They found the Indians engaged in a dance, evidently entertaining no apprehensions of an enemy in the vicinity. They returned about two o'clock in the morning and at three o'clock, Rogers advanced with the whole party, within three hundred yards of the village, where the men were lightened of their packs and formed for action. About an hour after this, the Indians broke up their dances and retired to their cabins for repose; and soon the whole village was asleep, the more oblivious from the weariness induced by their late diversion. About half an hour before dawn, the troops, having been arranged in three divisions for the purpose of making simultaneous attacks, in as many directions, were ordered to advance. Never was a place more completely surprised, nor in a condition less capable of making any sort of

Jim’s eyes clouded as he stared at the old, bloodstained fatigues. He wanted to forget his pain and yet wanted so badly to recapture every movement. He put the jacket back into its wooden box and returned it back into the top shelf of his wardrobe where he kept all his few but cherished possessions. He then sat in his chair and closed his eyes, his mind wandering off, returning back into his distant yet distinct memories. His love, his life came rushing back in old fragmented memories, he could almost see them so clearly as if they had happened yesterday, not 56 years ago. The segments of thoughts whirring around in his mind turned so lively, full of pain, torment, love and affection, as to make him live the life he had tried so hard to forget.

It was early morning and the Student began showing signs of life, other than breathing, he opened his eyes, he looked around, then sat up, he was in minor pain but, nothing he wasn’t used to. The crackling fire, the only sound he heard as he got off of the stone tablet, he wobbled alittle on his feet, but he eventually found his balance, finally on his feet he examined himself, the bandages on his body wrapped around him, and were heavy on his shoulder, he remembered, the hammer spike from the bandit warlord, he placed his hand over it, and pulled off the bandages, the long strands fell to the ground, he looked at the scar on his shoulder, it was a circle with several crooked trails that branched off., he reached over and felt the same on

two kids; perhaps a boy with blonde curly hair and green eyes and a girl with dark brunette hair and brown eyes. Of course our marriage would be out of necessity rather than want. I’ve always loved Gus but in a sort of platonic friendship way. We both know things about each other that no one else but our parents know.