Personal Narrative: My M1903 Springfield Soldier

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 story focuses on the emotions of the soldiers and describes how they endured extreme emotional torture during their time at war. All of them taken away from their homes and being thrown into a terrorizing unfamiliar area then given a gun and being told to fight most of them being young and having no combat experience. Tim O’Brien explains the amount of emotional stress each man carried “They carried all the emotional baggage of men who might die. Grief, terror, love, longing-these were intangibles, but intangibles had their own mass and specific gravity, they had tangible weight” (89). He describes how their fear affected even what supplies they brought with them from the amount of ammunition, to pocket knives, and even food. One of the soldiers in the story, Ted Lavender carried tranquilizers with him because he was scared of the physical pain he might endure. “Depending on numerous factors, such as topography and psychology, the riflemen carried anywhere from 12 to 20 magazines” (82). All the men struggled through

It seemed like ages before he was free. He ran back towards the British line, expecting at any moment to feel a bullet rip through him. Then, out of the blue, a single shot rumbled across the dormant battlefield. Ed spun around just in time to see the German commander’s pistol smoking. The machine gunner who had spared his life was slumped over, motionless.

This story brings back some harsh truths about warfare, and explains why so many naïve young men joined up, only to suffer deaths well before their time.

In five years I see myself as either a Sargent or Corporal in the United States Marine Corps. Being 22 years old I will be in the first year of my second enlistment providing that I do not get NJP’d (non-judicial punishment) or something else dumb that I might get myself into. I look forward to joining the Marine Corps because of my long family military history and my extent of being a child of a military father. I plan on either being in the MOS (military occupational service) 1142 or 1345. I see myself having a degree by the end of those five years from online schooling while overseas on deployment or at my current duty station. Providing that I am a Sargent I will send in a request form in to become a DI (drill instructor) and then hopefully

Indeed, the reality of life in the trenches brought on experiences far removed from the romanticised images of war the soldiers had seen in the newspapers of the time. The cavalry charges they expected gave way to the reality of stalemate fighting in trenches with new and terrifying methods. And essentially, it is this new method of warfare which most severely affected the individuals’ experience at the front. As summarised in the novel All Quiet on the Western Front the war experience of soldiers between 1914 and 1918 is so distinct from other wars in that soldiers ‘do not fight’, but rather ‘defend [themselves] against annihilation’. This experience of war is characterised in the battles of Verdun or the Somme in 1916. It is here that the soldiers experienced first hand the new role of technology.

It was a dark and cold night during the middle of the war. I set up my sniper to get ready for the next battle. We got here early to get the upper hand on our opponents. We have to win this war. I went to the nearest rooftop that looked like it provided good coverage. I loaded my gun and did the one thing i could, I waited.

Little did I know that was going to be the second to last time I would see her. If I knew about my upcoming death and I had a choice, I would have stayed, but when you are deployed to the US army you don't have choice. You can resist orders and be killed or you can follow orders and have a slight chance of surviving. I chose the later because I wanted to come home to my beautiful wife.

My mates and I sat there and watched as 600 men geared up for battle. While the mysterious truth was hidden deep, so very deep down in the mind of an unknown. The fact that could have very well saved six hundred lives that dreadful day. A slight depressing mood surrounded and darkened the part of generals. The soldier’s however had a strangely different character about them. They were satisfied, hopeful and armed for anything that they may come across. Loyalty, honour, glory and courage stood out clearly in their eyes. The looks they expressed were nothing compared to usual. It was the look of nothing. However, the war was about

We picked up guns and bullets from the men that we killed. They were spread out and unprepared. We bolted down the street; most didn’t even see us coming. At one point our group of thirty soldiers encountered a few that had taken cover in a nearby neighborhood—not far from where I lived. We exchanged shots for a while before suddenly hearing the sound of rifles as their shots died out. We looked up to see from the windows above, people with hunting rifles, helping our cause. I looked up the street to see my mother and father, with a few windows unbarred, each had a rifle in their hands as well.

I joined the Marine Corps looking for a challenge. I wanted to open doors for a new career and longed to have a positive impact on the world around me. Looking back five years later, I realize I found all that I originally sought, but I’ve also found something profoundly satisfying and meaningful that I never knew I was missing.

I had been awake for over 40 hours when they issued us our M16-A2 Service Rifles and cleaning kits. Little did I know that I would be spending night and day with this rifle and it would become a part of me. Receiving our rifles was the highlight of the day, we knew it was real now. After the armory we put on all 50 pounds of gear and walked for what seemed like miles to our new home, 4th Battalion Platoon 4005 Upper Deck Papa Company A Side. When we were introduced to our new home we were told to label all our new issued gear. 2 pairs of combat boots, 4 towels, 7 pairs of underwear, 7 sports bras, 2 sets of utility camos, etc. Once we had finished labeling all our gear we were able to hit the racks, I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. Being awake for 54 hours had taken its toll on me. But I knew this was the easiest day we would have during our stay.

It was the first day in the trenches. I woke up, carnivorous rates scuttled like the Germans around me, as I stood up, I felt my un-admitted fear engulf my mind. I walked through the corridors of our safe nest, our bunker. As I walked out into the open air, I was cradled by mother nature's walls of mud. General Frank called all of us to attention we stood straight with our right hand in salute. He shouted ‘ alright boys!’ for king and country we shall fight! She needs us, we are invincible!'. I could tell by the general's face, he doesn't believe his own words. General Frank articulates and keeps a mature tone, but he knows, deep down, we will become statistics. I grabbed my gun and placed the bayonet secularly on the end although I hoped to

His face looked so peaceful with the artificial moonlight casting shadows underneath his fluttering eyelashes. I hoped not to disturb him while I moved my hand towards the gun strapped at my hip. It felt cool and smooth against the heat of my palms. I took one more look at his chest falling as his breathing evened out and without hesitation I whipped out my weapon and pressed it against his skull. He jerked awake, his eyes wide and his pulse quick, and stared down the barrel of my gun. The voice that escaped the back of his throat was quivering with fear and desperation as he begged me for mercy. I stood unfazed, for I had heard it all before. After all, I was the one who had written all of his lines. When he finished his pleading, I recited

We decide to run it as a group. My only shield from the bullets is my gun. I have yet to fire it. In fact, it scares me that my armor is something that takes, but does not give in return. There is no time to contemplate this, for Sergeant had already started the run. I had to sprint to keep up with the group. Just when I think that the bullets and rockets are bearable, out of nowhere, a German knocks me down. My rifle goes flying, leaving me defenseless. The German soldier reaches for his knife, but I blocked it with my hands. We roll around on the sand fighting, when I find myself picking up my rifle. I turn around and fire. I see a shocked faced of man who was about to stab me. For the first time, I get to study my opponents face. His shock transfers over to my face. This “man” is no man. He was a young boy like me. His young face is round, and his eyes startled me. They were bright blue and hardened. They were the eyes of someone who had seen too much already. The soldier fell to the ground with a thud. My rifle seemed to weigh a hundred pounds. I didn’t realize this weight was guilt.