January 31, 1915
Dear diary it is the 31st
of January and I have become quite tired and weary of the war already due to my
lack of sleep, physical exhaustion, and of course food which has been in short
supply lately. I have been up all hours of the night waiting for the orders to
begin the battle of Bolimov, and our charge was called off due to our failed
attempt at a poisonous gas attack. Are shelling of the xylyl bromide, which is
said to be a type of tear gas backfired on us, the bitter cold whether here
kept the gas from ever vaporizing and made it useless. This was fortunate since
if the gas had vaporized it would have been devastating for our troops as all
of it was blown back to our troops. We were forced to mow down thousands of
Russian souldiers with are Mauser 98 rifles, and machine guns. My friend Cooper
and Duval operated the machine gun next to me with little trouble, and no pause
do to overheating. Lines and rows of Russians clinched their stomachs and
wounds as multiple bullets penetrated their upper body. The Screams were
horrendous one in particular from a young man no younger than I, wounded in the
knee; he crawled on the ground whaling until he was put to rest by Coop’s
continuous onslaught with the machine gun. I only hit about 10 Russians with my
Mauser which was considered average, I was in awe by the time the Russians
ended their charge, thousands of innocent men were lying on the ground, one
with blood covering his face, his intestines pouring out of his stomach as rats
began to pick at the bloody flesh. Then a feeling of thankfulness came over me,
I realized how lucky I was that the tear-gas bombardment failed, after all that
could have been me grabbing my bloody intestines.
February 7, 1915
I
am now moving on to the offense in the war as we are gearing up to take on the
Russians again, our goal is to push the Russians out of their position in
Central Poland and force them past the Vistula River. If we accomplish this
feat we should be able to close out the Eastern Front to take on new roles on
the more important Western Front. I have grown exhausted in our journey; my
boots have become soaked in the snow, as we have been hiking for over 10 miles
now in a terrible blizzard. I have recently been informed of a foot disease
with the name trench foot, this is more commonly caused from muddy water stuck
in trenches but I am worried that I may become victim to this god-awful disease
due to the constant wetness that my feat are enduring in the snow. We began are
surprise attack on the Russians and have been gaining ground with ease it is
almost as if the Russians have had no prior war training experience. I was
almost killed due to a jam I encountered with my Mauser, fortunately the
Russian soldier in front of me was unable to shoot me as I quickly dove to the
right, rolling on the ground while pulling the pin out of a grenade, and
quickly lobbing it towards him. Before my eyes an explosion killed him and four
other soldiers instantly. Then the arrival of the twelfth army supported the
struggling Russians, we were suddenly stopped short of closing off the Eastern
Front for good. We are now waiting for further orders as we hold our position.
March 31, 1915
Dear diary I have long
awaited my next opportunity to share my thoughts with you, and now that I am
being sent up to the Western Front with Coop and Duval I am able to write. As
we are traveling by train in a small boxcar to our new base camp on the Western
Front I feel that I am once again feeling the everlasting pains of war. I am
wishing that I could talk to my family and were a clean pair of clothes for
once as I am tired of my bloodstained uniform that is finally thawing from the
blizzard I last wrote about. My boots are soaking wet and I feel great pain in
my feet, but I dare not remove my boots as I fear if I do I won’t be able to
get them back on. Cooper says they may be frostbit or even have a case of
trench foot. I am cautious to mention this as I may end up in the hospital,
which would be worse than on the front. I hope we are served a large meal, as I
am growing very hungry. Further thinking of my life outside of the war is
unthinkable at this point as much as I want to leave I feel I am obligated to
stay with my newfound friends Coop and Duval, in fact I feel that if I were to
be sent home that I would no longer be able to go back to normal life due to my
recent experience with innocent human life. I must leave you now my beloved
diary as we have been told that we will be leaving for the front once we are
fed at the next stop.
April 18, 1915
I have recently been at the front for a total of 15 full days. I would have written earlier if it were not for the constant machine gun fire and bombing that we have received from the Brits and French. Words do not even begin to describe what I am feeling or seeing. I have seen over a hundred deaths in these few days alone and one was the man beside me, luckily Coop was not present. He was killed due to the inferior training that the other men received at camp, as he was throwing a grenade he exposed part of his face which is were he was hit he was almost killed instantly right before my eyes. He died peacefully only because death was to fast for him to let out a moan. It was then that the other young recruit next to me began to go insane, he was screaming that the walls of this trench were growing closer and closer in his mind, the sound of screaming men becomes constant. He began to climb out of the trench and an instant later a Coop threw him to the ground yelling at him to get a hold of himself. After about 20 minutes he began to calm down and asked how to throw a grenade and how to use the Mauser properly. Cooper explained the best way to fire the gun while I showed how to lob a grenade on the ground, standing, and even while lying face down. He began to grow more confident in his skills until the shelling picked back up, if Cooper and Duval were not as good with the machine gun as they were that young recruit and I would be pushing up daisies.
I regret to in form you that in a later bombardment by the British Michael was wounded by a piece of shrapnel in the leg, since then he has been taken to the hospital which his were this journal will be going shortly.
Sincerely, Cooper
April 30, 1915
Dear Journal I have had a close run in with death, I feel that I am lucky and unlucky with my wound. I feel well now, but in this hospital I feel as if death is awaiting me and it be, as the doctor has not examined me yet. I am grateful for Cooper to bring my journal to me as I don’t think I could go on without it. I will complete my thoughts once the doctor finishes examining me, so for now I must say goodbye.
I am in tears as I right this and it is not because of my horrible luck of getting my leg amputated but because I am in great pain and I have no one to share my feelings with but my diary. Now I will share my unfortunate news of why my leg has been amputated. Apparently when I was on the Eastern Front I got frostbit on my right foot, but trench foot also came from this from the snow that melted and became trapped in my boot. So besides having a frostbitten right foot I developed a minor case of trench foot calling for the removal of my lower limb. I feel weak as of now and am not sure if I will be able to go on so I am stating now that if there is no further entries I have died. This would be from now until about the 10th of May. I would also wish that no people feel sorry if I die as I feel death would be better than living a crippled for 50 more years. I now must rest as I am tired and in pain.
Sincerely, Michael