Trench Journal- Battlefield Orders

Day 22 July 18, 1914









I'm so tired. I've only been at the front for a couple weeks but it feels like an eternity. We all wait, tense, listening to the soft booms in the distance; seeing the rockets and flares light up the sky. The hours pass slowly by, dragging on and on. I strain my ears listening for the slight buzz of artillery rounds approaching; waiting for the order to duck. Everyone is feeling down and anxious, the other day we charged the French but we suffered heavy losses to their machine guns and mortars. Those machine guns are terrible. They're heavy, they jam, they overheat, and they cut down your comrades right in front of your eyes. The most inhumane thing they've brought out here are the flamethrowers though. Although they are effective against bunkers no man wishes to see another die like that. It's a terrible sight to see a man being burned alive, screaming, rolling on the ground in an effort to put out the flames.



We have no mercy for the flamethrower operators; we despise them. As I think of my comrades and wait to be relieved I watch a dogfight overhead. The French pilot is skilled at dodging the German's shots but is unable to hold off for long and lights up the sky, a bright streak against the red and green of the flares as he plummets toward the earth. Since aeroplanes have become involved in the war we also have to watch out for them. There is always the risk that they might shoot you or crash into your trench. I heard they have mounted machine guns on aeroplanes now. I wonder if they work any better than ours? Finally, my relieve has come. Now I can try to rest.


Day 23 July 19, 1914

Today our spirits our raised! Kat found for us three loaves of bread and managed to trade parachute silk and some cigarettes for some good horse meat. He cooked it for us as we keep watch. Our Corporal stopped by and tells us about some new Intel on these huge armored cars called tanks. They say the British and French are building many of them and sending them into the field. He tells us that they are able to crush anything in their path and can't be stopped by bullets, but often become stuck in trenches. They laugh as they picture a huge metal box tipping over and having its operators scramble out in search of cover. I laugh too, but feel a little anxious about what I should do if confronted by one of these metal monsters. I try not to think about it. Instead I stare out at No man's land. That never ending sight of barren land, ripped up and blown apart by the artillery of both sides, strewn with the bodies of the dead and possibly the dying. If you get stuck out there you better jump in the nearest ditch you can find for there is no cover other than the ditches scattered about. I've seen many wounded men shot trying to return to their trenches.