Every Wednesday, we have a sub teacher named Mrs Bradshaw. Mrs Bradshaw is very nice! We had to write a thing about the ANZACs from a picture we choose from three. I choose to write a diary entry. Here is mine...

Wednesday 13 April

ANZAC - 16 year old Alex diary entry

26 April

Gallipoli

Today was very much the same as every other day.

My friend Josh died today. He stuck his head over the top of the trench. It was only a bit over, infact, just the tip of his forehead, but he got shot. It was very quick, just like that. We were playing cards, and he stood up on his knees, and turned around, and thats when his head went over. We all noticed it, but just at that moment everything felt like it was in slow motion. We heard a bullet shot, a bullet that seemed extramely loud, and he smiled like he heard nothing, and then boom, the bullet hit his head, and his neck flung back, and it became broken. The bullet went in deep, and he flew backwards, just like that. There was blood running down his forehead and onto the ground. The blood was making the water on the ground red. Some rats came scurring past. Those rats were giangantic, and I vomited, and even worse, I vomited on Josh. The rats then came back, and were all over Josh. I vomyed again. I know it was bad, but it happened. I’ve vomited nearly everyday, but most of the time, not at the rats. I try to stay out of there way. I don’t know why, but I just don’t like the rats. I find them disgusting.

Anyway, Josh was covered with rats, and I couldn’t bear to see him like that. I said a muffled sorry to him, took on last look at my poor friend, and ran away. I know the other guys understood. They aren’t scared of rats, so they shooed the rats of, most of them. I heard them heaving Josh up onto their shoulders and walking off. When they came back, I was sitting in one of the dug-in holes in the trench, that was our bed. I was clutching my stomach, still sick with the idea of the rats and dead Josh. There was a puddle of vomit on the dirt below me. Most of them men had left me, found the vomit disgusting, even though they understood my pain. I know I should be use to my friends dying now, it has been over a year since the war started.

My friends sat down on some dirt on the other side of the trench. They asked if I was ok, and I just nodded my head. I could tell they were staring at me, frowning.

They all walked of, apart from Mavis. Mavis sat by my side, patted me and walked off.

The rest of the day, I just sat in the trench, shooting. I think I only shot one or two people. I know I should try hard to shot people, but I feel like there is no point in killing. I’m sick and tired of all this killing anyway. I think everyone is. I wish the war would stop. I want to go home. I want to go to family, and live my life as I should be.  Most people commit sucucide now. At the start of this war, we all thought it’d go for a month or two. Boy was I wrong. A year here has been hell. Our bosts have gone, we have frezzing feet. All of our bodies are dirty and itchy. Our hair has grown long and has lice. Our body has cuts and brussies everywhere, and our heart has already died.

Today was horrible day. I mean, Josh dying was pretty bad. Josh was a good friend, funny and kind. He was always happy to, trying to cheer us up when we were down the most. He would be cheering me up now, if he were alive. Some of the other men died today, and I could see other men crying in the dug out trenches. This happened everyday. Some one crying, mourning for their lost friends. Sometimes I think they are crying for their family. I know that some of the men’s family has died while they’ve been away, I don’t think any of mine have yet.

The last time I heard from my family was about a month go now.

In their letter, they were saying how my sister, Mariean, had become a teacher for the 5 and 6 year olds at our local school. I wanted to be a teacher, but I think that dream of mine is over now. Marie has always loved school, and always loved younger kids. All the family knew she would be a teacher. It was just obvious. They said how she would start this month. I hope she is going well.

My dad, Riley, has been doing well at home. He is to old to go to war, luckily. I am to young, and I know that I’ve made a BIG mistake coming to war.

We have been learning about the ANZACs recently and we wrote a poem about it.
I really liked writing this poem, and I think I did really well. Here is my poem...

A Soldier's Lifetime at War

Imagine, us comrades, fallen in the mud, blood, rifles, dead surrounding us, coughing, chest complaints, scratching, moaning scared out of our minds,

  Soldiers, safety, where are you? Bombs, fire, explosions, go away please. I want out, I want home, I want my family.

  My boots are lost, I feel woozy, I feel tired. Bombs are everywhere. I feel numb. I feel weak, and I fall over. They carry on, ignoring the fighting, their clothes ripped, their bodies torn badly, their skin pale as snow.  

‘Boys, Gas, remember your families boys, put your gas masks on!.’

Gas mask, on, have my mates got them on?

  I can’t see them,, where have they gone? This gas is blinding, This gas is thick., This gas is dark green and I feel around, looking, hoping, to find something, but I find nothing.

  I hear a high cry, and look around, to find someone rushing, wobbling towards me, coughing, and spluttering, and I know he is dying, and I feel helpless, and I feel sorry for him.

I hated watching this, hearing this, This man, I don’t know him, but he has dark, curly, hair, and I know I have to pick him up, move him, and as I do, I feel the man gripping me, and gurgling up blood, vomiting, and withering in my grip, as I lay him down in the wagon.

  I walk away, my stomach twisting, as I hear him dying, hear him suthering. Imagine what it is like, to hear someone dying, someone just like you, and to know that that may be you next time. To have a fear of death, is the biggest and worst fear ever. Imagine what death is like.  

  If you have ever seen death, ever seen someone in pain, you will understand how terrible I feel now. If you have ever heard bombs flying over your head, while you worry that that next bomb might land on you, you’ll understand, If you have ever experienced war, you will understand it isn’t one bit glorious to die for your country, It is the opposite, It is truly horrible.

By Charlotte

I hope you like it!