Personal Narrative: All Quiet On The Western Front

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

Death and disease were omnipresent in the trenches. The health and the living conditions in the trenches were one of the biggest issues faced in World War one. Diseases in the trenches killed more soldiers than bombardment or bullets. Scraps of discarded food, empty tins and other waste, the nearby presence of the latrine, the general dirt of living half underground and being not able to wash or change for a considerable length of time or weeks on end created conditions of severe health risk (1914-1918.net, 2014). The unsanitary living conditions not only caused several health problems but this caused vermin and parasites to be very commonly present in the trenches. The rats were known to grow ‘as big as domestic cats’ according to soldiers fighting in the

I am sitting here in my trench with my fellow brothers. We are soaked from head to toe with mud all over us. I haven’t had a change in socks in weeks and I have seen men around me get trench foot. Trench foot is something I have seen and I never want to experience if we don’t have to. The lice have been spreading from man to man very quickly. At first the lice really bothered us but now it is just a part of our lives in these trenches. We have to be careful with our rations because the rats that have grown to the size of Oscar, so we have to keep our rations in a safe place

It is March first, I miss you so much it is unbearable. Sleeping can be awful out here in the trenches only because I want to be home in a comfy bed again safe and sound where war isn’t the only thing on my mind. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and I can’t breathe because I dream someone has invaded our trenches and shot me. It isn’t easy being out here but if it means fighting for you then it is what I will do.

World War I, otherwise known as The Great War, is considered by many as the first modern war. Poison gas, heavy artillery, armored tanks, mortars, ground breaking military guns, advancement in war machinery, and shell bombardments were all newly utilized weapons that caused mass destruction that was never seen before at the time. However, a lot of deaths and conflict occurred in the man-made trenches. Both strenuous and unproductive, living and fighting in the trenches cost soldiers who endured them both severe physical and psychological injuries. Most soldiers were not even lucky enough to make it out of the trenches alive. All Quiet on the Western Front portrays an accurate picture of trench warfare and how gruesome it was.

Meanwhile, a specific sergeant tried to make my life harder. This sergeant enjoyed agonism which “occurs among those who enjoy fighting for its own sake and who perceive trading insults as a type of game” (p.21). I constantly tried to filter out the words being filled in my head, but my internal dialogue had been so negative and judgmental for so long I really believed the bad things. I could not and did not understand that I was good person with many good characteristics. I was fighting 2 wars in a combat zone, one against terrorists in the desert and the other inside my head.

It is still hard to adapt too. Whenever it rains it like a flood in the trenches it becomes muddy and it stinks badly. It takes a long time for the water to dry and because of this, many soldiers including my close friend, Henry are getting trench- foot because it’s hard to keep your legs dry. Luckily, Walter and I didn’t get trench-foot yet. When the trenches have too much water we use an baler to get the water out of the trenches. Also, because of the rainfall, many soldiers including us get a cold or the flu. Now Walter and I both don't have the flu or the cold but other soldiers still have them. Rat infestations is another main reason why living in trenches is horrible. The rats will eat scrap foods and dead bodies found on the trenches floor. While having a dose, they will crawl on our faces and bite our feet. The rats will grow to the size of a cat! We tried everything that we can, to get rid of those pests. We used gunfire, a bayonet and even tried hitting them to death but they never die because “a single rat couple can produce 900 offsprings per year”. Cooties is a big problem found in trenches and by far is the biggest problem that is affecting me. “Since there aren't any proper washing facilities” lices start to appear all over the body including the hair and they start sucking the blood. We even have chores to do. Every soldier will be assigned a task. Today my task was to “repair the duckboards on the floor of the trench”. Which was really hard because there are so many dead bodies, rats and frogs on the floor. I and many other soldiers including Walter don’t get enough sleep because of the amount of work we need to do in the trenches and the amounts of noises surrounding the trenches. The only way that I can have a kip is if I take a shot of

It is about the middle of the day and we are on our way to somewhere right outside of Paris. The

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….

“GAS! Gas! Quickly men!” I remember that day like it was yesterday. The new recruits were training and were trembling in their boots. Sergeant Williams they called me. I was the officer in charge of B company, preparing them to protect themselves from the mustard gas bombs they would encounter in the trenches. “GAS! Gas! Quickly men!” I would roar like a great lion and they would rush to get their masks on.

The great man tinkered with his little motor. He worked in an eerie silence. The echoes of metallic tools reverberated through the area. The workshop was very spacious, a large opened room with several cluttered work desk scattered about the area. Loose pages littered the tile floor, stretching from wall to wall; illustrated with the man's genius rantings.

Against the bitter front lines, men hold onto their rifles like it is the only thing left in their life. Their boots slosh and stick against the broken down earth: mud. Eyes are drained of life, their sockets deepening and sinking into their face as if they were the living dead. Some men get the blessed time of sleep, a holy pull into the deep and sugar coated dreams. Life amongst the trenches is no easy task.

Our trenches are deep and at regular intervals along the trench a firing step would be positioned so that the soldiers could stand on it to see over the top of the trench and fire a weapon into "no-man’s land". Some would ‘go over the top’ and sacrifice their life because the trenches were regularly flooded, and we sleep in such inhospitable conditions. Corpses of colleagues once living, scattered around the trench, would pass on diseases as well as bring parasites such as lice, maggots, fleas etc. But even though our life is in ruins, it is better to take your chances in the open than stay barricaded inside. If you’re blown up, you’re blown up. But, its better to die than be like inexperienced new recruits who get amputated legs, shot, and are thrown in a ditch.” A young soldier wrote this extract in his diary hoping that one day it would reach his family. He talked nothing but torture about how the way war life was treating him. The dead were unburied as the shells covered them; the honor they were suppose to receive was all talk; the cigars they had all ran out; and most of all, the feeling of returning home never left a soldiers mind.

In the camp we were finally able to lie down and rest. I look at my father, and under his eyes were enormous bags, and his eyes slightly closed. I knew he was exhausted. I knew that he would not be able to go on much longer. The camps worked him to hard. I hate the Germans I told myself. I was starving, cold, and tired. We are able to take a hot shower, but the line was huge and my father needed to lie down because he could longer stand, he is to weak. I told him no. No he could not lay down. All around were corpses, those who decided to lay down in the snow just as my father has. My father says to me, “Just until it is our turn, then you can wake me.” I give in and decide to let him. I walk to go get soup and coffee. When I return I can not find my father anywhere. I go looking for him, but I hope to myself that I do not find him

I hope you forgive me as I could not keep the one letter a week routine. All the stories I heard, and the posters I looked at showed how glorious war can be. But there is nothing glorious about it. I was quite busy this week dealing with the vermin that pollute theses trenches. The trenches certainly need a spring cleaning as it is filled with dead bodies, rats ,frogs and nits. The rats here are nothing you see at home. Theses rats are about the size of cats, and are not afraid of anything. I have seen these rats snatch the bread from other soldier’s hands. I have seen frogs just sit in the holes caused by the artillery strikes happening day, and night. The feeling when one can die at anytime is unsettling. When I first arrived, I had twenty close friends; now I have only seen three in the past week. I have only been here for a couple months and seventeen has been blown up to bits. Every night we have to remove the nits from our clothes by