YEAR 7 WRITING

By Lisa Dixon | Posted: Thursday May 27, 2021

Our Year 7 writing focus for the first few weeks has been on Moment in Time writing extending work from Term One into now writing by putting themselves in the shoes of someone else - an ANZAC soldier. Here are a few of our diary entries...

15th of December 1915

I can’t smell the corpses anymore, I suppose that's good but I could have frostbite. This war is dragging on forever, the Turks like the rats are multiplying by the day, and like the rats they are getting tougher, I bet the generals will keep us fighting until we’ve all died of disease, bullet wounds or grenades, part of the trenches got taken out yesterday and at least ten soldiers died.

16th of December 1915

My hands are blue and purple I can hardly write this. Not many people have been killed today I guess the Turks are finding it hard as well. I tried to bury my mate Jim, but the ground is too hard it’s like digging through rock, nothing lives here except us, the Turks and rats, there's a saying that states when hell freezes over, this is hell frozen over and I don’t like it any better.

17th of December 1915

The snow is so thick today you have to wade through it, though it’s soon going to turn to sludge. The rats are getting hungrier I suppose, the bodies must be too frozen to eat, I woke up this morning to another soldier stealing my rations, I guess I’ll be going hungry for the next few days.

18th of December 1915

We are going home soon, I wonder what I should do with this diary? Should I leave it here for other people to find in the future?

I’m so excited, I heard that it's going to be in the next few days, I can’t wait I might get to spend Christmas with my family.

19th of December 1915

I can’t write much I have to go they need me I just wish… hope I …..

Charlie died 19th of December from a sniper blast 

Aoife

22nd May 1916

Dear Diary, I just can’t get any shut eye. The sound of gunshots and the thought of shrapnel hitting me in my sleep is too intimidating. My mate, Sam, got shot in the chest. I miss him, but part of me knows I may be joining him soon. Luckily, my best mate, Jack, has made it as far as me. Even with friends, the trench is horrible. With the Turks shooting at us randomly, and the flies buzzing in our faces… it’s hard to stay sane. The food is awful. The biscuits are so hard, you have to soak them in water first. The only fat we can use to cook is the fat we scrape off the top of the meat tins. My stomach is aching, and my ribs are showing. Yesterday, I was shooting at the Turks, and my stomach hurt so much I doubled over in pain. Three of our men died yesterday, and their bodies are still in the same place, and soldiers just walk right over them.

Jack just keeps telling me this is what war is like, and I need to get used to it… But I don’t think anyone could ever get used to this.

Dannielle 

31st of April 1915

Dear Journal,

We arrived at Gallipoli yesterday just as the sun finished setting. Seeing so many injured or dead bodies, makes me question if I am going to be able to last longer than a week.Time for me to try and sleep now, Goodnight 25th of May 1915

Dear Journal ,

I have not been able to sleep these last couple of days. The sounds of gunshots leading to screams of fellow crew mates is what gave me nightmares.

I have found the sights distressing, but after watching more and more dead bodies fill the spaces around me I have began to feel numb. There's really no way to explain it. Nowadays I feel no sympathy for anyone, no pain, nothing.

The breeze likes to tickle my skin ever so often, it's really the only thing to keep me company.

I am going on the front line next week, wish me luck. 

7th of June 1915

Dear Journal

It's been a while, I am trying my best to push through. On the bright side its my birthday. I would rather be sitting at home with a meat pie than having to eat last weeks left overs, but thats my way of life.

19th of October 1915

Dear Journal

I am nervous, like really nervous. There have been rumours spreading about a really big attack, and here I am, once again fighting on the front line.Yet it's almost quiet, to quiet. The only sound I can hear is the scrambling of the very few feet stumbling around me, and the occasional banging of a pot of, or little whispers. Though strangely no sound of guns or bombs could be heard for a while, should I be concerned, it's most likely nothing to worry about.

My body feels weak right now. I'm missing home and feel over tired .

These could be my final words. God protect my family.

Lydia

15th of September 1916

Dear diary, does my life even matter anymore?

This half cooked rat, isn’t gonna keep me alive.

I sometimes wonder, why did I lie about my age?

It has been a traumatising night.

The Turks started advancing. Their bullets were going haywire above us.

We didn’t know what to do, half of the people in the trenches didn’t even have any ammunition.

I ducked and started running through the trench. Looking for anything i could protect myself with.

Mud under foot wasn’t helping, but I kept moving.

I watched as Sergeant Luca’s bunker collapsed on him.

I observe as what looks like life getting sucked out of him. lingering to the end.

I puke on a dead body horrified, as its my first time, seeing a headless soldier.

The smell was atrocious, bodies laid in every corner.

As we had no time to save, or move the injured, while under constant fire.

I felt depressed, wondering if life is worth living.

We were in a living hell.

I collapse down in agony and sorrow, letting my pain out in this diary.

WHEN WILL THIS WAR END!!

Toa 

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