In My Hands

Here’s something I wrote about the weapons. The tools we carry with us all the time. Without them, many of us surivors would be long dead. This was written later on in the war. Almost two years after I joined. Those were terrible days. Days that seemed to last forever and even at night we could barely sleep.

July 17^th 1916

We replaced the Ross Rifle today. Thank God, fore these new British guns , the Lee-Enfield, are a lot better for the trench war-fares. The Ross Rifle was very accurate. It’s actually a very nice gun that I learned to use well but it was constantly getting jammed. With these new guns, it’ll be easier to quickly shoot the enemies but I wish I’m starting to wish I could be home now. With my dear Lucy. I wonder how she’s doing… is she still waiting for me? I don’t want to admit this, but I sometimes wonder if being a hero is worth the risk or losing her. The battles keep getting worse. Almost army is using machine guns now. And so many lives are taken every hour. The poison gas is becoming more popular and frequent too. We have gas masks now, unlike the brothers at the battle of Ypres last year in April. But they don’t always work. The gas will come and there’s no avoiding it. It spreads quickly, like death. It is death. If we breath too much in we can die instantly. If we just getting a little, then we’ll die slowly. I wonder what’s better. Have the pain be quick or having the opportunity to see all my brothers at arms one last time. The chlorine and mustard gas were horrible. I’ve seen men choking and drowning where you can’t see water. Their arms, reaching out for my help, is something I think about all the time. That image is so clear, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget it. Sometimes, we can even hear the sounds of the planes along with all the running, yelling, screaming, crying, and gun powder. There are dogfights that happen in the air. Where the two planes try to get the other one down first. This has become my daily life. It shouldn’t come as a shock when a comrade dies. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on the battle field but watching them die still brings me pain. Even if I didn’t know them that well. We were all fighting for the same things. For our country, our families, and even our own lives. Every breath we take is a gift. That’s something I learned and I value it dearly.

The Lee-Enfield