The great war

This is somthing I wrote unaded ( ecept for the odd spelling mistake ) in my spare time hope you enjoy it!

July 28th 1914

It was about 10 in the morning when it all started, no one expected to hear what they heard. Well it was obvious the war was coming, but when was uncertain. The messenger came running down the road; he was a tall skinny man who had more wrinkles than a pug, “We are at war with Germany! At 11 o’ clock the bells will ring, and shall not ring again until the war is over” he groaned his eyes narrowing.  Charles glanced at the open window with piercing eyes; he scowled at the ugly man who was outside his house. Charles was a tall and strong boy, he was 19 had deep blue eyes, and had close cropped black hair and a bit of a fringe. Charles lived on the edge of a small neat town in the English countryside. His father Jonathan Timothy Jones fought in the Baw war, Charles had much respected for him and looked up to this amazing man. When he was younger his father had told him stories about his heroic actions in saving his friends lives when duty called. Charles ran down the old oak stairs only to find his father sitting at the table. His face was expressionless more so than usual. He tried to see through his father, but that never worked. Even a psychologist couldn’t break him. “So the wars starting then?”, Said Charles trying to get some sort of response out of his father. But as he expected there was just silence. So Charles just sat by him, after a few minutes his father said “There looking for recruits,” still his face was dead from emotions “Your nineteen, strong, cunning. You will do well,” a tear ran down his cheek but his face remained the same as it had been before. Charles’s eyes lit up he’d always wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps, however he felt bad about his father. He nether cried but to see him in such a state made Charles feel that he meant a lot to his father. “Go on, sign up,” whimpered his father drying his tears.

October 11th 1914

It was raining on the western front not that it was unusual for it to rain. This was Charles first week on the front line, well PVT Jones’s first week as that was his name from now on. They had just finished stand to (Stand to is where every soldier takes aim at the enemy trench encase of an attack) He had plenty of time to spend cleaning his Lee­-Enfield rifle, and writing letters to mother and father. Unexpectedly Jo showed up. Charles had become good friends with Jo over the last few days; he was also quit tall with slightly longer blondish hair, broad shoulders and thoughtful blue eyes. He was holding his dish shaped helmet in his left hand. He looked tired as did all the other soldiers in the trench. Jo opened his mouth to speak but extremely inconveniently a 42cm shell screeched over head, exploding just behind there trench sending shrapnel and debri fling in all directions Charles held on to his helmet whilsed the mud and the twisted remains of the steel shell landed all around them. Someone whaled something like get your heads down lads but it was impossible to tell because of the noise. The artillery barrage had commenced. Everyone made a break for the sheltered parts of the trench. However some were not in luck, perished in a smoky abyss, gone out with a bang. As for Charles he escaped with only a cut lip, but that cut lip reminded him just how lucky he was. It was hours before the shelling stopped. After the bombardment Charles wondered out of the shelter. His heart sank all around him lay the tattered remains of the barbed wire, what had once been trees was just blackened wood. But worst of all spread in front of him lay the scrace remains of what was once his field commander.                       

Comments that people have made about this blog post

Comment 1 Comment by Mr Ryan on 10 Dec 12 at 9:58am | Quote this comment
William, this is brilliant!

You clearly have a specialist knowledge in the military/wars and it shows through your vocabulary and general narrative. It's always a pleasure to read something that strikes a note with the writer's passion.

This is too good to be a one-off, William. Please could we read some more diary entries? I'd like to read what it was like around Christmas day, personally.

I'm sure other teachers will join me in congratulating you on a fantastic piece of historical fiction - well done.
Comment 2 Comment by Mr Jones on 10 Dec 12 at 1:20pm | Quote this comment
William, this is a fantastic piece of writing. I particularly enjoy your attention to detail - it makes it seem very real.

I agree with Mr Ryan, it would be great to read more of your entries on the Blog.
Comment 3 Comment by Ben S on 10 Dec 12 at 4:16pm | Quote this comment
Well done Will! Great description and your knowledge of the subject really backs the story up! Really good!
Comment 4 Comment by Mr Stanton on 11 Dec 12 at 2:09pm | Quote this comment
Excellent work William! I'm really pleased to see you enjoying the historical fiction work - and this is outstanding! You write with such maturity.

Thank-you also Ben for your peer feedback - keep it up boys!
Comment 5 Comment by Jane w on 12 Dec 12 at 6:32pm | Quote this comment
brilli ant piece of work love to read more :-)

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