Life In The Trenches Narrative Essay

Men were living outside for days or weeks on end, with limited shelter from cold, wind, rain and snow in the winter or from the heat and sun in summer. Artillery destroyed the familiar landscape, reducing trees and buildings to desolate rubble and churning up endless mud in some areas. The incredible noise of artillery and machine gun fire, both enemy and friendly, was often incessant. Yet soldiers spent a great deal of time waiting around, and in some quiet sectors there was little real fighting and a kind of informal truce could develop between the two sides. Even in more active parts of the front, battle was rarely continuous and boredom was common among troops, with little of the heroism and excitement many had imagined before the war. The Italian infantry officer Emilio Lussu wrote that life in the trenches was ‘grim and monotonous’ and that ‘if there were no attacks, there was no war, only hard work’.[1] The order to attack – or news of an enemy assault – changed

The storm clouds were dark, gloomy and grim like a graveyard. They were near the surface of the earth. It was going to rain. They were lingering on. The soldiers’ uniforms were repeatedly buffeted by the howling gale. The sky was as black as a devil’s soul. A large boom echoed across the crimson battlefield as the lighting returned the thunder’s call. Endless calls for help could be heard. Then, the rain started pouring down, filling up the battle field, like a flood, as the constant sound of the rain pounding on the metal could be heard. Heavy boots pressed down on the wet mud, which would not be dry for the next week, due to the trenches. The trenches were six-foot-deep and reeked of dead bodies and human excrement.

upon the men along side me. Some of the men so I have been told have

These trenches are filled with the unexpected and the diseases are beginning to take power. Sadly, my friend Parker, fell ill and died yesterday. I did not realise how deadly trench fever caused by the lice could be until yesterday. Also, day after day, countless soldiers fall and these fat disgusting rats eat away at the dead remains of my brave fellow soldiers.

Description of Life in the Trenches You might be thinking that life in trenches was non-stop death, violence, and pain. But have you ever thought about why? Or what do soldiers do in their trenches when they're not fighting or dying? Do you always trust sources when you read them? Do you always believe what they say on television documentaries?

As you know I am writing to you from the trenches of the western front in France. The United States of America joined this heinous war in the spring of nineteen hundred seventeen. We joined the fight because of the sinking of the Lusitania and when the German Kiaser sent the note to Mexico to convince them to put themselves against us to assure we will not go to war in Europe. That did not go through because the economic condition of Mexico is not that good enough to fight in a war with the United States.

The grey sky hung close to 16-year-old Ed and the other soldiers as they stood, lined up in the trench. Rain poured heavily over their helmets, draining into the mud. The French sun hid hazily in the smog-covered sky. THUD THUD THUD, cannons pounded shells through the air, towards the Germans.

A 4 foot deep trench was dug into the ground miles wide. Swerving through trees and hills. The smell of worms filled my nose as the fresh earth lay behind the trench. Proper defences were created to give us a better chance at defending the German attack. At 10:00 a.m. the first German soldiers were spotted. I held my rifle at my shoulder and looked through the small cut out in the trench. Thousands of Germans were running through open fields. Red mist coming out of most. A deafening array of gunfire to my left and right. With the rifle’s sight up to my eye, German soldiers were put into picture, and with a squeeze of a trigger, and a loud scream, they would fall over. Flashes of light came from 300 meters away. German snipers were picking out targets from an almost unreachable distance. Helmets were flying off left and right. My friends dying in front of my eyes. A single bullet was forced through the barrel of a Gewehr 98 rifle. Traveling at 878 meters per second, an 8 millimeter cartridge hit my helmet. It continued through into my skull, shredding my brain. Feeling nothing, my body lay on the ground dead. Blood spilling from the side of my head out of the helmet. The rats came running. Dead meat attracted hundreds of them. Crawling in and out of bodies, getting free meals along the way. A funeral wasn’t held for myself and the other casualties until after the war. The Treaty of Versailles was signed 5 years

     According to the author Tim O’Brien, people tend to readily accept the ‘facts’ presented of what happened during a war. People do not consider the existence of fallacies regarding the actual stories of what happens in wars, few consider that the ‘facts’ of an incident often change through people’s words. The film ‘Saving the Private Ryan’ by Steven Spielberg features both facts and seemingness part of the war story. Since it is so difficult to fully describe a war using human language, Spielberg ended up revising his stories to make sense out of it. Spielberg included parts that did not occur or exclude parts that did occur in order to make their stories seem more credible. According

“Trenches were relatively new for soldiers arriving on the front & were worse than expected, “Dear diary,

It was poorly constructed, polluted with human excrement and contained pools of water. Buried about a foot deep, hundreds of Germans and French lied in the trench since last October. Mud was my best friend, and sleep was interrupted by the booming of German shells. There was infection everywhere. Men were blown or shot to pieces, and their bodily fluids fed the rats. Those malicious critters were immense, crawling on and eating the decaying bodies. Some of the men had gotten a nasty disease that ate away at their feet. Trench foot, they called it. Unless we could dry our feet, our feet began to rot. Making up the majority of our diets were stale bread. With no appetite, I starved for most days. And containing no proper washrooms, we had areas in the trench where we relieved ourselves. Oh how the banging never ceased for sixty seconds! Some men were terrified of fighting, mama. Their minds went crooked, and their bodies twitched and trembled constantly. They wouldn't fight, or listen to orders. Most of them were executed, unless they had an injury that could send them home. Mama, Riley was shot in the heart yesterday. But, he died grateful. "It's an end to those shells, bombs, rats, lice and mud," he spoke his last

In 1915, the Battle of Ypres affected many Canadian soldiers during the First World War and many endured harsh environments. Using historical perspective allows one to understand and appreciate the sacrifice they made for their country. Men entered the army expecting a quick and exciting adventure, but were quickly shown the brutal truth. They were immediately thrown into the relentless environment that was filled with artillery, blood, and death and they would have to endure for the next five years. Trench warfare was brought up during this time where soldiers practically lived in mud and disease. There were rats and lice, diseases such as trench foot, and unbearable weather; every morning the troops would wake up in the unforgiving trenches

The air is cluttered from the blasting of cannons, and it is hard to see with the darkness all around us. Piercing sounds of gunshots and pain come from all angles, making France seem like the perfect setting for a nightmare. The ground beneath me shakes like an earthquake every time a cannon is blasted, and it is difficult to keep my balance. The fear that I feel at this moment must only be a portion of what the soldiers are feeling on the battlefield. Smells of dirt and dust linger in the air, and I can’t breathe quite right. There is nothing but terror on this battlefield, and lives are being lost at every moment. I can hear the soldiers yelling at the top of their lungs, “Fire! Fire! Charge!” The British and German soldiers are both yelling commands from all angles, and even horses are understanding. I see horses leaping over barbed wire, dodging bullets, and doing everything they can to keep their soldiers on their backs. Everyone involved in this war, whether German or British, is courageous. German soldiers are dragging their wounded soldiers through the thick mud to try to save their lives. Horses are taking bullets for their soldiers. This is a bloody battle, and the pouring rain is only making this battle harder to

I remember the smell, the sounds, the taste of blood. I remember seeing my comrades fall beside me, the sting of the cuts. The numbness as I fell alongside them, the sadness, the tears. The price of war, I believe my father said that to me before he died. I remember being lifted and carried, I remember a laugh. Then I felt my mind slowly becoming numb, and soon my mind was consumed by the darkness. Like a wildfire it spread from the farthest of places, destroying everything in its’ path. It was over, the war was lost, hope gone; at least until today….

turning my head again I saw Simon dive to my aid. He did not utter a