Death was commonplace, on occasions when a soldier put down his guard for a second and stood in the trench. Russian snipers would shoot him down, although we would gladly return the favor and shoot down their soldiers. When we attempted to gain ground, hundreds of men were lost with every rampage, shot down seamlessly by enemy fire hailing from a machine gun. Sometimes we were forced to retreat at the expense of a few hundred lives. And for what? A few yards of meaningless ground? . There were no rules in war, you either kill or get killed.
We all came across our first encounter with gas, as we were marching towards some seemingly empty fields towards the front lines, we came across eight or so canisters. Being curious, two men approached them, the rest of the 598 people in the regiment waiting behind including me. We had been told of gas attacks before, but had never witnessed them. As the two men approached the canisters, a number of Russian soldiers appeared and duly shot them down. It was as if they materialized from nowhere, we had been set-up. The enemies were too far away to be within firing distance, all that could be done was wait and watch. A single Russian soldier approached the canisters and released the gas, before retreating. With the wind against us, it wasn’t long before the gas would reach us. A call came for us to strap on our gas masks and retreat. Although for some, it was far too late. Men began to wheeze and cough under the influence of the deadly gas; the masks seemed to have little consequence for some. Eyes would bulge from their sockets in a devilish way. It was as if they were overcome by evil. A truly horrendous site it was. After an hour or so the wind changed direction and we could continue our path, with the walking wounded. Those who could not see, dumbly walked on, those who fell off the horses staggered with the soldier ahead of them. Those who were dead were simply left behind; there was no time for burial, only for retribution as some still trotted on horseback with the dead men beneath their feet.
I could see flashes of machine artillery from both enemy and foe, hear the cry of the wounded, smell the stench of blood, taste the stale air and touch the gates of hell and back again. I was so scared and yet so fearless at the beginning, and my awareness of what seamed the outside world was delirious. I wasn’t aware that all had stopped around me. Still mounted on my horse I felt somewhat secure. Secure with the knowledge that it was all over. Although, that’s what appeared to me. No more blood, gashes, death, or fellow screams, no more praying, swearing, last thoughts; just silence. Everything seamed dead or in a deep sleep, as if I was the one who put them to sleep. ‘But how could it be?’ I thought to myself. ‘How could I have survived all this?’ .
