Please would someone mark the start of my ww2 story?Watch
The Winter’s War.
1st September 1939
Dear diary, what a day! Churchill has just announced the declaration of war on Germany. WOW, Another war? Well anyway, my 17th birthday is in a week, and this is all I recount for my gift? Mum said that this announcement is allegoric for when a historical one occurs to get us mobilized hastily. I have recently enlisted into the army as I want to clarify how my masculinity overlaps my ambitious body and collides into one formation. I want to make my family proud and valiantly hasten across no-man’s land into Nazi territory. Mum will not allow this abhorrent situation to materialize no more and that I will get court-martial when they find out that I am under the age limited to be indicated as a soldier. She still predicts that this declaration of Churchill is all an imitation to her, but why would they be compelling men to enlist? Mum is incredulous. It is hard to persuade her to perceive this type of factual message towards society. I am presently descripting my proposition and thoughts into this diary to allow the future generation to perceive great knowledge of the valorous British Army, and what they had to experience to make Britain a shielded place. I have been in this camp for less than 4 hours and I am already wary about my surroundings. We are not even at the scene yet, where the battle occurrences imply.
7th September 1939
Dear diary, an initial French Offense occurred this morning called ‘The Saar Offensive’. This offensive occurred in Germany where the French are now advancing towards the Germanys heroically on their understrength Western Front. Today, I have also been displaced into our trenches today! I have been looking forward to this exuberance experience for a while. My surroundings are quit claustrophobic, but what do you expect. We are at war, not a fine 5-star hotel in London. I share a bed with my fellow soldier, Edward Dickins, but for short we call him ****. Lately, everyone started to notice my baby looking face and started questioning my age of suspense. I dissembled their glares of suspicion and carried on reading my claimed letter from my mum from home. I do miss my family, but it is about saving them and making my country proud. Men are not to be seen as weary and melancholy towards their country as they are seen to be valorous on the battlefields, whilst the women were seen to look after the children and do the housework. In my conclusion, I do not agree with this strategy statues of the contrast in gender equality and how women are seen to have limited abilities. Yeah, you might not see a pervious woman on the battlefield, but that does not mean women are not valiant internally. Anyway, the trenches weren’t pleasant to stay in, rats and mice invaded our personal hideouts interminably, whilst men leaped onto their bunks apprehensive wailing with intimidation. Although we did not have any sort of access to entertainment whilst fighting on the Western Front, I certainly was preoccupied with the entertained comedy of the diminutive rats, like malicious monsters, engulfing our restricted foods whilst these portrayed valorous fellow soldiers, leaping on their bunkers like timid grasshoppers. There is perilous mud that has colonized the distinguished concrete below our eradicated boots which sinks us rapidly below the surface.
5th October 1939
Dear diary, Happy 18th Birthday to me! I don’t know why everyone takes it as a real celebration as I cannot do anything whilst I am out on the Western Front. Mother still does not think I should be fighting for Britain, but I want to. I keep telling her that we only live once, and God knows if there will be another opportunity like this to show my ambitious wrath towards the enemy. Fellow soldiers have been giving me their extra portion of rations they receive in the morning for breakfast to me as a gift. I deny the offer but clarified an excuse of them not eating breakfast as they might feel bad of not giving me a birthday gift. I have got to be honest with you though, this is not how I planned my 18th birthday. I am supposed to be going out with my mates from college, having my first drink with them, but how can I if there is a riot between nearly every single country and state right now? The mail came today, and mother got me a gift for me which included a bar of chocolate, a can of beer, and a card which was signed by my relatives. This is well better than going out for a drink I supposed. I manage to share my chocolate with my bunk mate Edward Dickens as he gave me a gift which withhold a cup which had my name carved into it.
24th December 1939
Dear diary, Happy New Years Eve! You may think what is there to celebrate over in the trenches, well there is so much exuberance occurring int these heinous trenches. There is enjoyable and conceitful music playing on the radios whilst drunken fellow soldiers swayed side to side like waving trees, relishing the access of the entertainment. I did not myself enjoy this ‘party’ that was occupied by my fellow friends. I was too busy worrying about my family and how my mum was doing. I mean how can I have my best time drinking with mates that I have met by defending my own country? You just cannot until you get yourself so drunk until it takes over your mind and fills your body with the envious wrath that you have been grieving implicitly.
Italics/Underline - very poor word choice