War. ne Hour; One Place 6:35am on 1st July 1916. I've hardly slept. I do not think anyone has slept really. Maybe a few people who have no imagination or am I the only one to feel this fear?

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Colin Francis 10.1- GCSE English

                     One Hour; One Place

                6:35am on 1st July 1916. I've hardly slept. I do not think anyone has slept really. Maybe a few people who have no imagination or am I the only one to feel this fear? We are sitting here, waiting and waiting and waiting.

                It is a beautiful day, impossible to be lovelier with the sun already shining like a huge golden buttercup in a cornflower petalled field. The air is warm already and, somewhere, nearby I can hear s bee buzzing. In the silence that is so sweet after the artillery bombardment of the last seven days.

                I'm not alone because, all around me are my fellow cadets. However, I feel isolated, cold; I'm shivering. Strange because it is not a cold day. I clutch my rifle close to my chest and reach into the pocket of my uniform. I can feel the picture of my mother. I'm thinking of home; I missed my mum. Standing outside the stone cottage in our quite village. She is smiling as she looks happily at the camera and the roses growing round the door as not as beautiful as her face to me. The letter is written in case I make the ultimate sacrifice. They always say you should write a letter just in case but I hope she does not need to receive it. Oh no, there is a louse in my pocket, press it quickly. Lousy, lousy war, it really is!

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                I looked to my left and I see Charlie, a lad from my street. He looks very pale and nervous. Reaching over, pat him on the back and he smiles at me. I can see that he must be feeling just the same emotions. Wonder if I should ask him how he feels, but that would be stupid; he must be experiencing what I am experiencing.

               Nearly 7:00am. I glance around: some men are eating, others playing cards. Most are just sitting in silence ...

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