This week’s 100 Word Challenge is inspired by our topic learning this week. Although we will be studying the Second World War, we have been learning about World War One to understand the years and events leading up to World War Two.
How will you interpret this prompt? As a diary entry from the trenches? A poem about the tragedy of war? A factual explanation of why World War One began?
I can’t wait to read them!
Miss T
In the Flanders field, lives lost sprung new beginnings not just for loved one but those who lay amongst poppies, the colour of your true heart bursting for Poppies to bloom. Guns are shot beneath the doves marked for me and you. In the Flanders field life on love makes one true request the same. Yet Germany France England all make the same promis. And quote “all you need is life, love and you. Be your self ,fight for your family if you can make the word strong and be as one. The World Wars lost.
War. The word was revolving around my mind over and over. They were coming for us. We both knew it in our blood. The bus stopped. James was jolted awake. “This isn’t our stop,” I whispered. His mask was grimy with the modern pollution. I adjusted mine to make sure it covered my forehead. We were the most wanted on the planet. The silence was deafening. Then suddenly the click of a revolver pierced the air. The man holding it stood up. He pointed it at my face. His sooty finger lay over the trigger. The last thing I saw.
In Flanders fields my body lies,
Buried six feet under, decomposed and fetid,
The world fell silent, a bullet between my eyes,
Fighting in the war, I instantly regretted.
Gun shots, grenades deafened one’s ears,
I knew, one day, death would arrive,
Watching my friends die, led tears,
Each day, made it harder to survive.
Life was more miserable inside the trench,
Hundreds of rats nibbling at your feet,
What made it worse was the horrible stench,
Germany was virtually impossible to defeat.
As I lay inside my grave,
I feel noble and brave;
I am Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae.
In Flanders Fields, war is on.
Millions of lives gone.
Back home no one knows.
The true anger of our foes.
We thought the fight would be short.
But for 4 long years we fought.
For all the soldiers that died.
Thousands of young men lied.
Desperate to help the cause.
Caring little for laws.
In Flanders Fields, full of trenches.
Across the field are electric fences.
The Germans just across the plain.
All these thoughts rushing through my brain.
In Flanders Fields, the poppies grow.
Upon the dirt row on row.
Now it’s over.
The war has been won.
I fought for the British Army in WW1. My feet being nibbled away by hundreds of rats inside the trench at night, I lay awake with a loaded gun beside me worried beyond belief that a German soldier would come and shoot us.
I need a cigar I thought to myself. “Does anyone want a cigar?” I asked everyone around me. Two other people said yes. So I made three horrible smelling cigars and gave one to each of us. I lit all three and BANG. A gun was fired and that is how I ended up in Flanders Field.
In flanders field where flowers grow is a battle where people are laying row on row. Maybe they are looking at the sky maybe they’re trying to see shapes in the sky but no something has happened but I rather not tell. Wives are waiting priests praying for their loved ones to return. Children asking “were is daddy going” and mothers say tearfully “to flanders field” they replied
I remember that day when I looked out onto those barren empty stretches of mud and barbed wire. It was death in the millions, Germans and Briton. I joined late, just after my 17th birthday ready to become a man, see the world and fight for my country. My brothers had signed up at the very beginning, writing of heroic battles and new faces they were meeting. How they missed us back in England and would be home by Christmas. So, on that day back in February, 1916 I was shipped off to the trenches, ready to serve my country…
A white light. Was I in heaven? No, still in hell. The trenches. I looked up at my friend jumped when I saw his head blown off. I sighed. The horror of this war is unexplainable. My parents said that I would be home by Christmas- not true. It has been a year of this terror and how I miss my mother and sitting by the fire with my dog. It’s as if there is a race and fear, sadness, cold, hunger are all competing. Oh how I hope that no-one will ever have to experience this. Oh mother.
Gunfire stopped. I looked around. My fellow men standing still, no words. Silence. And I turned. Standing alone, tall and proud, a German walked, very slow. And he threw down his gun. The silence was broken by confused whispering. Then more men did the same thing. I would not be tricked by their devious plan, or moved by their Christmas peace. I watched as men, from both sides, stepped up, and moved toward our enemy. Naive, they are, and I won’t be there to save them when they are poisoned by the rum. Gifts, football, love. Silent night. Not fooled.
The Flanders Fields were once a happy place, with giant, growing trees that seemed to go on forever and short green grass that was always shone on by the glistening sun. If only this isn’t happening if only there wasn’t gore and if we hadn’t of started this war I wouldn’t have to be here standing in the trenches shooting at the Germans. Being forced to fight in a war that shouldn’t have happened. The Flanders fields are still covered in blood are muddy but still can see those beautiful poppies growing even more were the bodies lay.
The bitter sweet poppies spill over the emerald ocean forever hiding the nightmares of the past.
Screams. The death rattle of a machine gun. Innocent lives lost. Blackness surrounds my soul, in this hell I can’t escape. The bleak wasteland that contains my fate lies at my feet. Distant whistles, cries make the guilt of murder pound deep within me. I have to do it , defend my country. Desperate thoughts flash through my mind, no no no. struggling to grasp a hope of safety everything becomes a twisted blur, the gas has caught up with me. HELP!!!. Darkness. Silence.
Today was the day, the big day, the time to walk into the recruitment office . A lump stuck in my throat. Nerves clog my empty stomach, am I strong enough to face them ? Am I the only one who is actually thinking of the disadvantages, or is everyone thinking that they will come back by christmas? Is it really just about being a hero? I cannot tell anyone my big secret, I am a woman,I am a lady.
TWO MINUTES’ SILENCE
Two minutes’ silence for the dead.
I thought of the fields when the were red.
Red, not with poppies but with blood,
Blood of the men, the image of god.
Two minutes’ silence for the dead.
Stood in the crowd, and bowed my head,
Not in reverence but in shame,
At the insult in memory of their name.
Two minutes’ silence of the dead.
Last post standing,eyes are red.
But Revile is sounding for me instead,
Last post memories of the dead.
Two minutes’ silence of the dead.
In Flanders Fields where poppies grow, they sway softly row on row.
But, this place wasn’t always poppies and rainbows.
A Great War once dwelled in this field.
A war of guns, gas and bombs.
A war that ripped the ground and stripped the trees bare.
The villagers cries could be heard all around, but most of the soldiers couldn’t hear a sound, as the screaming bombs fell through the sky and hit the ground – with meaningless lives passing by.
Beautiful poppies now grow here but, never forget this was once a perished land just over one hundred years ago.
I struggle but I can’t get away from them I just can’t no matter how hard I try. They can’t make me…. I won’t go back I know what it is like….I’ve already escaped and I have seen enough! Flanders Fields is not where a teenager should be . Tears prick at the corners of my eyes.”I’M NOT GOING” I scream at the top of my lungs, my voice is husky and can’t afford to scream anymore! But I won’t give up. My own screams deafen my ears more and more but I can’t do it…. The blood streams…. Darkness
A single flame lights up. I’m spending my 18th birthday at war. My only friends have died, and yet it has only been a single month. Filled in the trenches are men like me.Lonely, home sick and tortured. Every birthday I’ve ever had, I’ve spent with mother and father. I thought it was noble and grand to sneak my way to war, lie about my age and save my country; but not its not.I have to go now, I can hear the guns booming in the distance. I take step, then another. I feel an intolerable pain inside and drop dead.