The Horrors Of War by Zac Haghighat

The Royal Irish Rifles (became the Royal Ulster Rifles from 1 January 1921) was an infantry rifle regiment of the British Army, first created in 1881 by the amalgamation of the 83rd (County of Dublin) Regiment of Foot and the 86th (Royal County Down) Regiment of Foot. The regiment saw service in the Second Boer War, the First World War, Second World War and the Korean War.
Trench warfare is a type of land warfare using occupied fighting lines consisting largely of trenches, in which troops are significantly protected from the enemy's small arms fire and are substantially sheltered from artillery. The most famous use of trench warfare is the Western Front in World War I. It has become a byword for stalemate, attrition, sieges and futility in conflict.[1] Trench warfare occurred when a revolution in firepower was not matched by similar advances.
Hutt Valley, Wellington, New Zealand, 14 April 1916

7th September 1914: I have just been shipped out to the Western Front today after finishing my terrible and feet aching 6 week training, and the experience is not for the faint hearted. My name is Jonathan Barrett I am 22 years of age, and am part of the King’s Royal Rifle Corps in the British Expeditionary Force just like my father before me. The roar of Artillery could be heard miles away from the trenches even in the train carriage, many men were clutching photos of their mothers thinking that they would never come back, many were right. The Distance screams of pain, terror and the thundering noise of German machine guns split our ear drums from end to end as we unloaded off the train. I shook the driver's hand and he whispered which I could’ve sworn what he said was good luck, that voice haunted me day in day out. We marched through the support trench, the mud coming up to our ankles as we powered on through. Every so often I would hear a screech from one of the soldiers and turn back to see a giant rat scuttle past, sometimes chewing on what I really hoped weren’t mangled limbs. We past men, injured men, allied soldiers who all had that same dauntless look on their faces, the one that we all knew meant we probably weren’t going to come back. When we got to the front line trenches our fates were sealed, we were now soldiers, soldiers fighting for us and the very men who wouldn’t make it home to see their mothers gleeful face again. I looked at my best friend standing beside me, he had the shimmering look of terror in his eyes, as soon as we heard the Expeditionary Sergeant talking about the Germans trying to push through the river Marne. We knew why we’d been shipped out to this hell on earth, our one and only objective was to hold back the advancing German Empire and to Ensure the French were to keep this land. We were instructed to get some shuteye as we climbed down into the Bunker. We knew that, that whistle would be sounding at 0:100 hours. I clutched my rifle and said to myself. The Battle Of The Marne has began. -By Zac Haghighat


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