Hello...

March 7th, 1917.

Hello, I suppose. I’ve never written a diary before. It was my aunt’s idea, she said I should keep this moment, store it, document it. She is the only one who supports me in this, well, at least she didn’t protest against me. So I thought I should take her advice, we’ll just have to see if I actually remember to write in this. I see that I haven’t really been writing this in a very formal way, I’m not much of a writer, I’ve written some before, but nothing major. Seeing as I work for a magazine, one would think that I’d be a decent writer at least, but honestly, I just do as I’m told.

My father used to be an author, he is not with us anymore. It must be some 10 years now, since we lost him when I was 17. He used to be good at it too, writing that is, him and my uncle. They used to write for a magazine, it was meant for children and it had a bunch of little stories. I have read some too, not exactly my cup of tea. They were good though, better than this at least. Maybe I should get to the point, I’ll start over.

Hello, my name is Alfred McLelland Burrage, I was born in 1889, and I have recently joined the 28th battalion in the London regiment.

Better late than never, right? I mean, the war has been going on for a while now, ever since it started the 28th of July in 1914. Felt it was my time to get in on the action. Tomorrow at this time, I’ll be on my way to the field, to the trenches I believe. I’m planning on writing about once a week, we’ll see how it goes.

April 7th, 1918

Hello, once again. Four hundred and sixteen. 416 days of mindlessly lobbing shells at something

that could slightly resemble an enemy helmet. 416 days of waiting, just laying still in the mud. From time to time seeing the muzzle flash from an enemy’s barrel. Followed by the thud of the bullet hitting the ground, or at times, the loud ding from an allies helmet. A life ended in less than a second.

All the pointless killing and shooting led me to a point where I couldn’t tell if there was a new body lying on the ground amongst the others. Not long after I would stop reacting to the screaming, shooting, explosions. In the middle of all the cause, I found silence.

I’m sorry, I just had to get that down. I forgot about the diary when we entered enemy grounds. It doesn’t really matter now when I think of it, I’ve done certain things that don’t belong in a diary, the type of thing you want to forget. I heard that a few years ago, during Christmas there was this unofficial truce. Men from opposite sides that had been shooting at each other for months, would lay down their weapons to enjoy the holiday with the people they might kill the next day.

June 14th, 1918

I was recently evacuated because of my foot, trench foot they called it. I’m one of the few to actually be evacuated because of it. Lucky to keep my foot I guess, most had their amputated in battle, and if you didn’t make it, oh well…

I can quite safely say that this has not been a pleasure, and I won’t be writing in this again. Hopefully, those memories can be locked away as easily as this.

July 2nd, 1944

Hello. I thought it might be fitting, seeing as I am basically in the same situation as my uncle was in quite a few years back. My uncle, Alfred, gave this to me some time ago. He said he needed to forget, but he didn’t want his story to be forgotten. I have read through this multiple times, and to be honest, it does make me reconsider what it is I have signed up for. Although, I think I have a pretty good feel on how to prepare myself, not to end up in the situation he was in.

I just noticed that so far I’ve been following in my uncle’s footsteps, a little cluttered writing in an unformal way. I haven’t even written my name, but I think I will keep it that way, for now at least. Unlike my uncle, I will actually bring the diary with me, I won’t try to write once a week though, just whenever I feel it is necessary. Right, getting on topic, in 4 days I will be on my way to the beaches of Normandy to partake in “Operation Neptune”. You’d think that the army would come up with cool names for their operations, but to me it sounds quite goofy.

I’ll have to admit, I’m as scared as I am excited. I have only heard about the war on the radio. Just to make things clear, I’m not a some sloppy joe, who has just been at home listening about the war. I joined the army 2 years ago, I wanted to be a pilot in the RAF. They told me I didn’t have a good enough eyesight, so they signed me up as cook. So for the past 2 years I’ve been cooking soup, until recently when they said they were gathering up men for a special operation, a final push. With my eyes I guess it truly was a “special” operation, anyhow, I accepted. I wouldn’t be proud to call myself a soldier if the only thing I have done is cooking for some snob officers.

I’ll continue writing In a few days, so goodbye for now I guess.

December 3rd, 1945

Hello! It’s what the others started with so I thought that I’d keep the trend going. I’ll be honest and say I had forgotten about this. I found it on the shore of Normandy a few months ago, I put it in my coat, and that’s where I found it today. I assume the diary’s owner didn’t make it, very few did on that day. What he wrote, about Normandy being the final push, having seen the aftermath of what he took part in. I wouldn’t call it anything else.

I was going to throw it away, the coat, there’s a lot of bad memories in this single piece of cloth. I’ve read through this a couple of times, and I think Alfred’s aunt is right. There is no way I will ever forget this, no one will.

They’re still getting the totaling up all the numbers, but I think the last I heard was close to 60 million casualties. I think I can say for sure, this will be the final chapter of this diary, and may all the lost souls rest in peace.

Links:

http://firstworldwar.com/diaries/burrage_intro.htm (11:58-10.11.2015)

http://is.gd/5mYmTl (18:51-12.11.2015)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World_War_II (21.56-12.11.2015)

#WW #Soldiers