Personal Narrative: The First World War

If I could go back to any time in the world, I would go back to France in October 1944 on the Western Front. World War Two has always interested me. Being able to see the revolutionary weapons would be incredible. I would also love to take part in such a historic and epic war. War is a horrible event that plays a major part in human development.

If there was anything more terrifying to a shy, introverted, teenage girl than the idea of being a in crowded room full of strangers, it would to be actually in one. Yet, there I was, surrounded by a numerous amount of impatient, jet-black cars that illuminated the dark streets, rows of musicians rehearsing their piece by playing a dissonance of sounds, and the expectant, motley crowd of people lining up on the sidewalk for the veteran’s parade.

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.

I am Ella Karcewski reporting to you on this gloomy Spring evening, hoping that this war may soon be over. I am currently experiencing a day that I will never forget. The images that I am seeing, and the heartbreaking pain that I am feeling will never be erased from my naive mind. I feel nearly speechless and am saddened for those drastically affected by this war. I am encountering a tragedy as soldiers and horses alike are collapsing to the ground, screams of pain coming from their courageous bodies. Pouring rain is drenching horses and soldiers, and darkness is curtained over the gloomy sky. Ominous clouds fill the atmosphere above, and it seems that the sun wouldn’t dare peek out on this bellicose April day in 1915. All of this French territory

The meadow near the Western Front was nothing compared to the vast fields of the prairie back home. There, in what seems like another lifetime, was a harvest full of life, colour, and promise. Here, there was only death and harshness. Trevor, our Commander, had once described the scenery of these fields in France before the chaos. He had said it was filled with little red flowers and high green grass. After three years of fatalities and rain, the scene shifted to represent the misery. There was no colour here. Our uniforms that had once been a deep green were now covered with dried mud. The scene before me was bleak. The sky was gray; as it had been since the first day we made camp in these trenches. The ground was muddy with small pools of

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

It is about 6 o’ clock in the morning, and we are in the rest trenches due to continuous firing from a rifle gun and a machine gun. It’s been going on for approximately four hours. There is a short silence and another splutter of about 20 rounds. I turn to my side while sitting in the trench and in doing so, I dislodge some dirt from the side of the trench which of course falls into my ear and mouth. I am going to take a nap, but, I will be fully dressed because the situation I am in demands for it.

All is going very bad for us in the trenches. No one was really prepared for what this war has brought us. The war has many factors that are very terrible and for most, unbarable. I can not think of a time where I have been more scared.

12th March 1915: The day hadn’t started out differently to any other day. I had just been out to milk the cows and feed the calves. As I was walking back to the farmhouse for breakfast, I met Dad, who had come back from the markets. He stopped the truck beside me and wouldn’t look me straight in the eye. That was when I knew there was something wrong. He wordlessly passed a brown envelope out of the truck window. “GOVERNMENT OF NEW ZEALAND” was emblazoned in bold red print across the front. My heart lurched, constricting my throat. As I opened it, my worst fear was confirmed. In small lettering it announced, “Mr Michael Jones, we need you to protect our country.”

We were trapped in a house. There were redcoats surrounding the house. All we had was a bayonet and a knife. John was almost dead. He might as well be dead, having been stabbed, shot 3 times and attacked by rabbits (Don’t ask). John pointed out the window and said, “Look”.

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

One day in 7th grade at 6th block it was almost time for Eogs to begin actually they were the following monday and i was talking to natalie.Mr.Clark was talking about something that really bored me ,so talking to natalie was pretty much my only option.I really should of payed attention but you know it was almost the end of the year and no one really payed attention.He wanted us to take notes so i pulled out a bunch of paper.Everybody kept asking me for paper so i got very annoyed.

“Just another day at the office” my Sergeant said. It was June 3rd, 1944, we were preparing for one of the biggest missions of the century. We would be named the 101st Airborne Division and it would be one of the worst turning points in my life. We were training for over a year for this day. We had to act fast because it was right before D-Day.

So when he told me that the end of the war would be a peaceful and glorious time I believed him with all my heart. And so did everyone else. But as time has gone on I’ve learned that to only be halfway true.

Every one experiences during the World War 1 were different, because they were in different branches. They had different duty’s to do and handle. I am going to tell you about some of the people experiences that I came across.