Dear diary History Homewor 2
Dear diary,
I was trudging across dreaded communications trench, feet and clothes damp and cold. The mud had gone hard as it was crunching under my worn out, over sized boots. I was considered lucky to even get boots. It was a narrow trench that was shared by many young and innocent soldiers who were limping to the fatal front line; I looked up into the sullen and weary eyes of a petrified soldier with curly black hair like a plate of broken noodles. His clothes were tired and filthy with a foul and putrid stench. He looked stunned and dark eyed and at that moment he limped and crawled away, so obviously had just been to the front line. At that second I jumped slightly in anxious fear as I heard rifle fire and machine-gun fire in the distance, the fear and darkness was beginning to penetrate my body. There was a crackling pop of the flares going up and lighting up the dull and rainy sky above that made my eyes aware that it was nearing afternoon. I felt extremely discomfited and miserable missing home. I was close to the front line. I heard a large boom followed by screams and then silence. I was smart enough to know what that meant. Soldiers suffered slowly and steadily. Anxious. That’s all I felt right now.
As I stumbled on, through the endless grey rain, many small black shapes emerged from the trenches. People. Some, more alive than others. Some were moving and some were not. There were dull and weary soldiers behind me that were in a line with each one holding one another, making sure they don’t fall over into the uneven, wet and soggy floor. This scene was as dull as a broken lamppost. We were at the front line. We found our dugout at last! They were small brown hallows in the front line trench. There was barbed wire at the top at the top of the trench as prickly as a black rose. There were rats everywhere! Rats in the coats, rats in the mud, rats crawling over dead de-composing bodies. Everywhere. Each one of us was yearning only for sleep then; it had
I was trudging across dreaded communications trench, feet and clothes damp and cold. The mud had gone hard as it was crunching under my worn out, over sized boots. I was considered lucky to even get boots. It was a narrow trench that was shared by many young and innocent soldiers who were limping to the fatal front line; I looked up into the sullen and weary eyes of a petrified soldier with curly black hair like a plate of broken noodles. His clothes were tired and filthy with a foul and putrid stench. He looked stunned and dark eyed and at that moment he limped and crawled away, so obviously had just been to the front line. At that second I jumped slightly in anxious fear as I heard rifle fire and machine-gun fire in the distance, the fear and darkness was beginning to penetrate my body. There was a crackling pop of the flares going up and lighting up the dull and rainy sky above that made my eyes aware that it was nearing afternoon. I felt extremely discomfited and miserable missing home. I was close to the front line. I heard a large boom followed by screams and then silence. I was smart enough to know what that meant. Soldiers suffered slowly and steadily. Anxious. That’s all I felt right now.
As I stumbled on, through the endless grey rain, many small black shapes emerged from the trenches. People. Some, more alive than others. Some were moving and some were not. There were dull and weary soldiers behind me that were in a line with each one holding one another, making sure they don’t fall over into the uneven, wet and soggy floor. This scene was as dull as a broken lamppost. We were at the front line. We found our dugout at last! They were small brown hallows in the front line trench. There was barbed wire at the top at the top of the trench as prickly as a black rose. There were rats everywhere! Rats in the coats, rats in the mud, rats crawling over dead de-composing bodies. Everywhere. Each one of us was yearning only for sleep then; it had