My Experiences of the War by Thomas Cooke Essay Example
My Experiences of the War by Thomas Cooke Essay Example

My Experiences of the War by Thomas Cooke Essay Example

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  • Pages: 7 (1772 words)
  • Published: November 10, 2017
  • Type: Essay
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Reflecting on my struggles, I remain burdened by the haunting recollections of the trenches and the assault that brought me to this hospital bed.

In the early hours of each night, I awaken screaming due to the terrifying memories of the past few years that are made up of pictures of Pure Hell. Some might consider my injury fortunate, as it's better to be here than dead, but I am certain that once I recover, I will return to the front line without delay and resume fighting amid the lice, rats, mud, and chaos. The cry "For King and Country!" will be shouted before you know it.

I must apologize for skipping ahead and instead focus on the subject of killing. To help me conquer my nightmares, medical professionals have advised that I chronicle my experiences starting from the beginning of my tale. My

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name is Thomas Cooke, also referred to as "Tommie," born on November 8th, 1894. At the age of twenty, I enlisted in the British army alongside Samuel Carpel to participate in the fight against Germany.

Even though we were assured of staying and winning together, my closest companion and I were separated. Regrettably, on September 22nd last year, I was notified of his passing. Despite the grief, there were still obligations to fulfill and many lives lost to grieve for. Being a devout individual, I believed that the church should have opposed the war. Nevertheless, my self-esteem hindered me from displaying any weakness; hence, I fought more for dignity than conviction. Despite being promised that it would be over by Christmas, the war persisted.

Initially, we believed that winning the War would be easy.

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However, we soon realized that we needed to dig in and fight hard. As soldiers, we were responsible for digging and maintaining our own trenches, which were frequently damaged by shell fire. As the War progressed, this task became increasingly challenging to handle.

While we were digging, we came across the decomposing remains of our friends - blackened legs and headless bodies. In that moment, we were reminded of their laughter and nicknames, and the harsh reality set in that they were no longer with us. The conditions in the trenches were truly hellish.

The hazardous conditions of the trench, caused by its poor positioning and resulting mud, made even a small amount of rain capable of causing flooding. While duckboards were placed to aid footing, falling off could prove fatal to both humans and horses. Trench foot was another concern caused by the muddy environment; a painful condition where feet would decay inside rotting boots. Fortunately, I have never suffered from this ailment. It is worth noting that individuals other than soldiers also inhabited the trenches.

Regular occurrences of swarms of rats, lice, and nits were experienced in the area. The lice and nits were particularly troublesome causing severe itching. Despite shaving my head to eliminate the nits, I was still plagued with an infestation of lice. We were instructed to frequently change our socks, which I was grateful for as upon removing them, the parasites would move about. The rats were enormous and would feast on the bodies of soldiers who were too injured or weak to resist. They also stole any meager rations we had. I would often be awoken from my sleep due

to the sensation of a rat crawling on my person.

During my time in the trench, I found a way to entertain myself by playing a game. I would lay still and then quickly jerk my body upward to launch any rats that were nearby. Listening to the sound of the rat landing on my companion and hearing their grunts provided some entertainment for me. Additionally, we would also kill the rats as a way of getting back at them for eating our food. Doing so gave us a break from the monotony of the usual "bully" activities. The trench was surrounded by barbed wire that, if soldiers became entangled in, made them easy targets for enemy bullets.

Being in the trenches meant constantly facing death. The fatalities of inexperienced soldiers sticking their heads out of the trenches on their first day were numerous. This is because it goes against the cardinal rule of staying safe in the trenches. However, going over the top was even worse and the haunting scenes witnessed will stay with me forever.

Surviving the experience of going over five times was harrowing, but the Battle of the Somme in 1916 proved to be the most horrifying and gruesome, with scenes of massacre too dreadful to put into words.

Witnessing men contort in unique postures from the impact of their injuries, their final exhalations filled with agonizing screams. Some imploring me to shoot them, while others cried out for their mothers like children. The deaths they endured were horrific and a tragic loss of young lives that were never fully lived.

The clamor of screams and gunfire is a sound I have become all too

familiar with, yet can never seem to grow accustomed to. But the most chilling noise of them all is the silence that falls upon us just before we advance forward. It's in that moment when every soldier is gripped by terror, uncertain whether the next enemy bullet will bear his name.

Throughout my time in No Mans Land, I frequently lost my faith. To combat my fears and remind myself of God's support, I continually carried a bible with me, securely tucked away in my breast pocket. Yet, there were still moments when I questioned the reasoning behind fighting in this War and why God allowed so many lives to be lost. Despite these uncertainties, I never strayed from keeping the cherished gift from my mother nearby- it became an amulet that brought me good fortune and ensured my safe return. Prior to every charge into battle, I fervently prayed for protection and guidance from Him above.

When confronted with dangerous situations, I would always say the same prayer: "God, please give me the courage to face this danger and come out unharmed. Amen."

Offering silent prayers for both British and German men dying on the battlefield helped me believe in the continuation of life after death. Despite our daily routine involving little sleep, we would rise early and prepare to attack on the fire step before cleaning our rifles and having breakfast.

The soldiers' daily sustenance included tough biscuits and canned meat known as "Bully beef," washed down with water from any available source, clean or not. These conditions often led to constipation, with engine oil used as a remedy. On days without active combat,

soldiers would tend to various tasks in the trench, the most unpleasant of which was undoubtedly cleaning the latrine.

Describing them as latrines would be an understatement; they were nothing more than buckets. I would avoid using them for as long as possible, only resorting to them when absolutely necessary. The overpowering and distasteful odor made me feel sick. Regrettably, the entire area was afflicted with unpleasant smells arising from sweat, dirt, and decaying bodies.

As a soldier, my duties included using sandbags and wood to fill the large holes caused by shell fire. However, while performing this routine task, my trench was struck by a shell and I sustained injuries. Along with other soldiers, we attempted to fill the trench holes by packing mud into sacks since we had run out of sand.

As I was covering the hole with a sack, a shell came in with a loud and alarming whistling noise. Upon hearing someone shouting "Duck," I immediately dropped to the ground and shielded my head using my hands. The explosion that followed was so powerful that it scattered mud all over the place. Unbeknownst to me, shrapnel struck my lower leg during this event. Since I was still reeling from shock and unable to stand up, I looked around for my colleagues.

The memory of the scene I witnessed remains vivid in my mind. The area was filled with scattered corpses, some missing limbs and expressing their pain quietly. One individual had been disassembled. During a mortar strike, my comrade and I were the only ones to survive while others suffered a prolonged and agonizing death.

After being sent to the reserve trenches and subsequently

to hospital, my mind continues to replay the fighting like a broken record despite being away from the War. This is a shared experience for every soldier here, as the nights are filled with screams and moans, while the days are spent in painful and slow recovery.

War has a profound impact on soldiers, driving some individuals to the brink of insanity. Even the slightest noise can trigger fits or cause soldiers to shake. While past generations may have labeled these soldiers as cowards or mad, society now recognizes the devastating effects of War. Some soldiers are even given the label N Y D, meaning Not Yet Diagnosed, though for many it is more accurate to say Not Yet Dead. Only those who have experienced War firsthand can truly understand its impact.

At first, I had believed that going to war was a noble pursuit, but my experience proved otherwise. Though I did obtain my cross guns badge and a higher wage after learning to shoot, I was oblivious to the fact that I was being trained to take lives. War is composed of various unsavory elements - lice, rats, barbed wire, fleas, shells, bombs, corpses, blood, filth, bullets, fire and mud.

During the long years of our service, there was only one positive moment that stood out. It happened on Christmas Eve 1914 when the guns suddenly stopped firing, creating an unanticipated ceasefire. Despite some unhappy generals, for us soldiers, it was a moment of immense joy. We spent time singing carols, exchanging gifts, and sharing photographs. I even had the pleasure of smoking cigars with a delightful young man who had a wife and

newborn baby waiting for him at home.

Uncertainty about the German soldier's current state of being was followed by a game of football in which they were leading 3-2. However, the game was interrupted when the ball punctured on barbed wire, which reminded them of the reality of war and they began fighting once again. This experience led the narrator to realize that the German soldiers were not much different from themselves and strengthened their desire for peace.

Only when that occurs do I think that both the men who fought and passed away, as well as those of us who are still alive, can finally find peace.

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