WWI+RAFT+Project+Ho+Joon

Ho Joon Chun WH B R: An Indian soldier A: His village people F: A conversation/ informal speech T: The horrors of the war, especially the trench

It was December. Being enlisted on the army together with my best friend Gupta, we left the country, for what we believed to be a glorious cause. Truth be told, all of us were excited at first, that there was such a chance of serving our nation. What more could you want than serve your country? At least that was what they told us—the British.

But by the second day that we arrived at the Western Front, I assured myself there was no better place as hell. To describe in words the harsh conditions of the trenches is too mild, too painful. The first day that we came to the trench, we were told to starve until the food came. If you were to ask me to describe the food in the trenches, I can’t; there were no meals in trenches. By the day we ended the war victoriously, however, we were not provided with any food either. The constant seduction of food soon gave in, and all of us were relying on mud and little living things as our food supply.

But hunger is next to nothing in war. In the trench, you have no idea when the bomb would hit you. And even if it hits you, the narrow, small structure of the trench (though it was already wider than normal trenches) makes it hard for you to escape. Just a couple of months before the war was over, a bomb killed forty-seven soldiers, and Gupta was one of them. As you might have guessed, life in the trenches was never the same for me after the loss of my dearest companion. He was the only man I trusted, confided in and with whom I talked my way through the sleepless, noisy nights in the trench. We got out from depression by talking to each other, day and night, about anything under the clear blue sky. But that was over, and my morale was down to my lowest since I joined the war. And that loss of your loved ones is a pain every man experiences.

Time flowed by, and the Allies won the war. I had no idea whether to cry in despair or laugh with joy. War had taught me a great deal, that with every gain comes sacrifice. In other words, we were the sacrifice—for a cause I haven’t figured out. What had I gained? Nothing. What had I lost? Everything: my cheerful self, the precious four years, my arm, and Gupta. I had even forgotten how to laugh. That is war to me: a meaningless fight.