Southwestern Belgium, November 1916
1:00 PM
My brother, Albert, and I were on a truck heading to the trenches in Northeastern France. Our bellies were full of beef and mushroom stew. We were satisfied and at peace. We had mess kits containing sausages in reserve. The cold autumn air was blowing against the trees. We exchanged tobacco and cigarettes and smoked them on the way there.
We looked up to our superiors and believed that they would always make the correct decision. This was until we saw death for the first time. We had been living in the trenches for merely a few weeks. Heinrich Kropp, a fellow soldier, and friend, was stuck on No Man's Land. He had been injured and started screaming and writhing on the ground. An enemy rifleman hit him and he died on June 10, 1915.
I had remembered it ever since. I wanted to come to his aid, but even then, he would still die. For there was a bombshell that hit the nearby area. His limbs had been blown away and his organs were visible and his torso had been torn open.
We eventually arrived. Everyone was tired and lacking sleep. Life in the trenches was difficult, for we were only sleeping for, at most, a mere two hours a day. The trenches were wet and grimy. Mice were everywhere, and rations are scarce. We, Germans desire not to continue fighting, as this war has destroyed the lives of us all.
YOU ARE READING
It's All Quiet In No Man's Land.
Historical FictionKarl Leinemann, a young German boy, enlists in the German Army in 1915. Fighting on both the Western and Eastern Front is intense. He realizes the horrors of war.
