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Diary Wednesday 15th Sept 1915 - The Front line.

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Diary Wednesday 15th Sept 1915 The Front line Is it Wednesday? It might be Thursday or even Friday. Every day here is the same mindless oblivion. I'm just trying to stay alive, trying to retain some sort of sanity, if that is at all possible. I've been on the front line for 10 days now, only 10 days but it seams like a lifetime. I remember the first day we arrived. It was all our first time on the front line so we were still cheerful. We sang songs, Bob Johnson even cracked jokes about how he wished he'd get hit so he could "get a bit of those Nurses down at the hospital". He's dead now, shot in the chest, died within seconds, no Nurses for him. We met some of the men coming out of the trenches. They were all silent, bent over as if someone had broken them. One of them looked up at us and mumbled to himself: "Poor sods, they won't know what's hit 'em." He was right. Nothing can prepare you for the front line. The first thing that hit me was the stench of rotting bodies. They were everywhere, feet and hands sticking out of the trench wall. ...read more.


Lost 27 men. 27 dead just like that. Gone. Dead. Forever. I knew most of them, good lads some even younger than me and I am only 19. One of them Colin, lived just down the street from me. He was rather shy and kept himself to himself. His poor mother will be devastated. Wonder how my Mam is doing. At least she's got Alice and Meg to look after her. At about 11:00 pm we got the order to go over. I was one of the last to go. All around me was the flash of gunfire, the screams of dying men. I didn't even get near the German's trench. It was like going through an obstacle course. Wading through dead bodies, mud and trying to get past the barbed wire. Meanwhile the German machine guns cut us down. About half way across no mans land I fell into a shell hole. Covered in mud and blood I lay there until the attack stopped. I'm no coward but I wouldn't crawled out of that hole and continued for anything. I then had to drag myself back to our trench. Back though the dead and dying. I couldn't stop and help any of them. ...read more.


War to them is all strutting and breast-beating, power and glory. They don't have to go over the top to stare death in the face. If it were up to us and the Jerry's or Fritz as we call the Germans (they call us Tommy's), we'd end this war right now. They're not a bad lot. They have families, loved ones just like us, just like Sam. Poor old Sam. My best mate killed and what for? We gain 80m, the Germans gain 70, attack and counter-attack. One step forward, two steps back, and millions of men dieing all the time. I'd better get some sleep. Who am I kidding? I daren't close my eyes for then the images that haunt me become all too vivid. Down on the front line I have seen men ripped apart my machine gun fire, tossed about like a rag doll as the bullets rip through their flesh, and that's not the worse I've seen. I'm terrified that's going to happen to me. That I'll become a nameless solider in a nameless grave, or left out on no-mans land to be eaten by the rats. All I want to do is survive this war and go home. Maybe get a nice job, something that has nothing to do with blood. Maybe when this war is over I'll write a book to tell everyone what it was really like. By Isabella McAdam 10H ...read more.

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