a male voice please as it is the diary of a soldier from the Great War
Private Walter Owen was born in London, England in 1893.
Monday, February 7th 1916 (Verdun, France)
I really miss my jam on toast. To be honest, I can't really taste the beef from cans anymore. We don't get much time to ourselves. But when we do, me and the boys play cards. I always win of course, apart when Sergeant Burton cheats, which is a lot.
Wednesday, February 9th
It's our poor old feet that the enemy is really killing. Our boots can keep some of the muddy water out but when it's bad, it goes through them and our socks. It makes our feet freezing cold and wet. My friend James had it really bad last month. He had been standing in a soaking trench for so long, his foot became infected and horrid. Someone said he might lose his leg.
Saturday, February 12th
Those pesky rats! We can't get rid of them no matter how hard we try. I shot five of them the other day myself. They seem to love these trenches as much as I hate them. Rotten vermin! I was sitting there grabbing a few minutes of rest last night, when I felt this big, furry thing brushing against my face. I thought it was a cat because that's how big it was. But I opened my eyes to find this disgusting, gigantic rat dancing all over me. I almost screamed.
Thursday, February 17th
We stay in our trenches. We get more and more tired and nervous. At any minute, we could get the call to go over the top. We just don't know when it is going to come. We have to live with the constant fear of getting injured in battle or falling ill from the dirty and unhygienic conditions. We live with death.
Friday, February 18th
I've got a dog called Chutney. Last week she smelt some gas while we were asleep. She started running around and barking. We woke up and put on our gas masks,
Chutney ran away to protect herself. She is just so clever.
Monday, February 21st
It's started. First thing in the morning the big guns started shelling the German front line. Sergeant Burton said that means we'll be attacking them tomorrow. All day the shells have been whistling over our heads and exploding in the German trenches. This is it.
Tomorrow we go over the top.
Tuesday 16th May, Military Hospital, Hampshire, England
I can't remember much about the morning of the attack, never been so scared in my life, the whistle, hands on the ladder, over the top, towards the Germans…and I run and I run, then suddenly – whoosh… I wake up in a hospital, a nurse tells me
I'm going to be all right, I won't go back to the trenches. I don't understand.
Thursday 17th August, London, England
This afternoon I had to sit down on a bench, I needed a rest. This new leg is much better than the first one they gave me, but I still haven't got the hang of it and it hurts all the time." At least you came back", Mum keeps saying ! Yeah, some of the soldiers came back, some of them are still in the trenches and some of them will never come home but I will remember them, I won't forget a single one of them, I won't forget their sacrifices, not ever.
