Short Stories, Poems, & Essays

Horrors Beyond Imagination (WW1)

(I wrote this story for school and i wanted to post it to see what happens. Enjoy.)

All of the following accounts are fictional. The intense battle is based off a real battle fought by the "lost battalion". For more information on this subject go to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lost_Battalion_(World_War_I)

"Bye!" I said to my family as I finally drove away from my house in a little town cradled in the middle of New York. Little did I know that was the last time I would ever see them. I had been drafted into the army only a couple days before. It was never my choose. I would never even had thought of it. I was not native to America in the first place so why should I fight for America? I thought about saying no but I realized I would be thrown in prison and my family couldn't handle that. So with anger in my heart, I left my beloved home and loving family to go fight for a country I had never intended to fight for.

In 1917, Woodrow Wilson decided to appeal to Congress to ask for a declaration of war on Germany. The truth is, I was born in Germany. Although I am not patriotic to Germany, unlike most of my German friends my age who went back to Germany to help with its war effort. I wanted nothing to do with Germany. All I had of that place were bad memories and I had planned never to go back. I guess fate had different plans.

I got to boot camp and found my battalion. I didn't try to make friends so maybe that's why I made so many.

We were on our 20 mile run when I heard a voice behind me. I didn't know it was talking to me but when it became prominent in my ear I could not pretend it was just the wind.

"Hey! Hey you!" the voice said, and I turned around. "What's your name?" It was coming from a short boy, maybe only 18 years old, running behind me.

"Alexis Schmidt." I answered unenthusiastically and turned back around.

"Hey! Hey you!" I heard again.

"You know I have a name right?!" I shouted back angrily.

"Where you from?" he said, ignoring my question.

"None of your business!" I said angrily. I was tired of this guy. Apparently he didn't get the hint and caught up to me.

"So why'd you join?" he said.

"I didn't." I replied the anger rising in my voice.

"Neither did I." he said sullenly.

"Peter. Peter Daniels." he said, holding out his hand. I shook it and there you go. Peter instantly became my best friend. I learned he had a girl at home named Amelia. I never met her but by the way he described her, she sounded like a nice girl. He had a big family with ten brothers and sisters. He had lived on a farm like I did and had never intended to enlist in the army but had been drafted instead. His family had moved from England to get away from the war but to get away from the war seemed impossible. It was like a darkness that was set on enveloping the whole world in its wickedness. We both dreaded going to France and hoped the war would be over by the time they needed us but our wish was never to be granted.

My battalion was finally sent to England on November 7th on a steamship named the U.S. Ideal. Despite the name it was far from ideal. We all slept in cramped courters with only a flimsy hammock for a bed. It smelled of sweat and the food was awful but it was fun regardless. My battalion and I did stupid stuff and laughed while doing it but when night came we all remembered we were not here to have fun. We were here to protect America and maybe die while doing it. Our sleep was restless, due to nightmares we were having and the constant fear in our hearts but we were soon to realize that this war was more terrible than any nightmare we could have.

We landed in England on November 20, 1917. We were all relieved to get off of that awful boat but if it were up to us, we would live on the boat for the rest of our lives if it meant we didn't have to fight. Well, at least the draftees did. The men who had volunteered were all very eager to fight and defend their country. Most of them died in the first couple battles we fought. I think it was that most of us draftees weren't to eager to die for a country we didn't choose to fight for in the first place so we tended to take care of ourselves before our battalion. I know it wasn't their fault that my name was picked out of a box by a higher officer, but I resented my commanding officers. They were the people who kept us in line and rallied us on. There was one officer in particular that got on my nerves. His title was Lieutenant Laney. He always treated us like little kids. Sometimes I just wanted run behind him in a attack and "accidentally" shoot him in the back. The only thing that kept me from doing something stupid was Peter and sometimes even he couldn't stop me.