Imagine you were a soldier in World War One. Explore your feelings in a creative way.

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Clinton Woollams

3-12-08

Imagine you were a soldier in World War One. Explore your feelings in a creative way.

The sky is murky and grey. The clouds are black, moving above us like symbols of death, reminding us of our mortality. The war planes are whizzing through the sky, moving at rapid speed compared to the clouds that moved at their own natural, God given pace, no matter what else was happening beneath them.

The heavens opened and the rain was lashing down. The lightning bolts were terrifying, like knives attacking the sky as though they are determined to murder nature. Everywhere was gloomy, no matter where I look and I do look, searching out one drop of beauty to cling on to. As the bombs are dropping, the sand is hitting our faces, slapping us and laughing at us, stinging our eyes like tiny needles stabbing at our drawn pale faces.

As the rain poured into our trench, the mud and slush was agonizing when it hit our raw bodies, already in pain from the attacking sores and scabs.

The boards that we had to stand on were now sliding from the rain and mud, and everytime you tried to move, you just slipped and ended up drowning in more mud. As a soldier, you could only think about the possibility of attack, and making sure I was ready for any enemy attack. Being covered in the dragging slime hampered my ability to be able to defend myself or my fellow men. It was the worst possible position to be in.

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As the moon shone from behind the clouds, and we gazed at the wide open sea, it was like a fresh blood bath. Outside it was silent, desolate, and bleak. Was it all over?

Had I died and didn’t even know about it?

No. Death wouldn’t be that easy for any of us.

That night, rats woke us up in our trench scurrying in groups among us. We lived in absolute squalor. It stunk of human faeces, the first thing war took from us was our dignity.

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