WW1

WW1-The Life of a Soldier

Log entry 115. Date, September 17^th 1916

Dear diary,

The poppies are red,
The sergeant’s feet are blue.
The lice play hide and seek in my pants,
The rats, the size of rabbits, ate the stew.

 

The bombs blow off limbs,

The shrapnel gets rid of your head.

The artillery shells shocks your sense of sound,

The reminding percentage of increasing dead.

 

The tanks mow you down,

The rifles fire their rounds.
The grenades show your blood,
The expectations in the Killing Grounds.

 

The men are worried,

The crossing of ‘No Man’s Land’.
The fear of doing it,
The sweating increases on my hands

 

The Battle of the Marne, 

The Battle of Ypres.

The Battle of the Frontiers,
The never ending graves hidden in barns.

 

The grim weather,

The never ending frost,

The never ceasing rain,

The never decreasing warfare cost

 

The corporal’s bored out of his mind,

The others are as well.
The boredom in the day and between soldiers,
The thing that comes close to Hell.

The things that were asked of us, we’ve done,
The filthy trench we live in praying the enemy won’t slit our throats.
The crawling through mud and dirt whilst bullets whistle all around,
The maddest and craziest thing, but we’re all in the same boat.

 

The Great war
The greatest conflict of man.
The possibility of surviving four years,
The greatest achievement, if you can…






This poem was inspired by my great-great grandfathers diary, which he kept untild he died on August 6th 1945. we celebrated his 115th birthday on 24th April and it was thanks to him that i have put together this historical segment and a reminder of what he went through.