Personal Narrative-All Quiet On The Western Front

Crack! Another bolt of lightning stuck the war-torn ground not too far away from my trench. The small burst of light shined on the bolt lever of my rifle, giving me enough time to see my dirt covered face. The date was April 14th, 1916. I was stationed in Verdun, France. In my childhood years I had dreamed of joining the Canadian Army, and I finally got my wish. But the courageous, easy, and powerful job I once thought of it to be turned out to be depressing, hard, and it came with little to no reward. But alas, I was stuck in this foul-smelling, life stealing excuse of a trench, and I knew it. I stood up with a groan. In the distance, I could hear the cracks of gunfire and the loud, heart-stopping sound of artillery hitting the ground. I couldn’t help but think that with every explosion I heard, men would die. It’s a thought that only us soldiers could understand. I crept along the trench, towards the bunk area. I turned into the small room. There was a dim, somewhat melancholy lantern lit in the far
The line was, as always, long. But eventually we got what we came for. Our “breakfast” consisted of undercooked eggs, grits, and on special occasions, any type of meat. Still, we ate the hell out of it. It was one of 2 meals a day, and the one that mattered the most. With all the fighting going on during the day, we needed the extra energy. Without saying a word, we finished our food quickly and walked to our briefing section of the trench. As we were walking, we could hear some of the other soldiers talking about what the commanding officer would have our squad do in the next few hours. There were always rumors. Rumors of soldiers like us having to jump over enemy lines, in no man’s land, to try and advance in the trenches. Rumors like these were shook off, and normally untrue. That was, until, I found out the hard way that the rumors were very