Entering deeper into the trenches and dodging barbed wires along the way, he could already begin to smell — among smoke and fire — the awful stench and odour that reeked of half buried bodies. It seemed however, that someone had angered Mother Nature that particular evening, and like an animal waiting to pounce on its prey, drops of water that started small quickly turned large and threatening. As tears continued to pelt down and drown him in mud, he knew that this was now the place where his body would be forever; yet he was content.
For the first time in a long time, a sense of peace and comfort washed over him. He clung onto the knowledge that he would leave this world at the same time as his mates, never having to live one more day without them, never having to live with the guilt that it should have been him and not them. With that last thought in mind, he closed his eyes, feeling no longer afraid of death…..
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And then suddenly, we were being mobbed, bullets pelting us, slaughtering us like sheep whilst we weren't expecting it. We sould have known.
But we didn't, and we paid for it dearly. Ten of us were already dead before we knew what had happened. The air was hazy, a red mist thrown up from the sheer of blood that was spilt.
The red mist and the blue sky meeting, joining, combining until the sky, too, was red. We were being slaughtered. There were too many of them and too little of us. It was a massacre. The smell of blood hit me then, the adrenaline fading fast from my system, and I retched. It was overpowering, so strong I could taste it. I could suddenly hear the screams of the dying men, the sound of the guns going off and cannon fire stunning me briefly in it's sudden intensity.
My senses became hypersensitive. I could smell the blood, sweat and fear hanging heavily in the air, I could feel the mud squelching beneath my feet, sticking to me as I ran and all I could hear was the thump-thump of my heartbeat, pounding deafeningly through my head.
Read Battlefield Scene from the story Descriptive Writing by DarknessInside with 15, godliterature.tk battlefield had a cold malevolent air to it, the wind howling Reviews: 5.
DESCRIPTIVE WRITING DESCRIPTIVE WRITING is the clear description of people, places, objects, or events using appropriate details. An effective description will contain sufficient and varied elaboration of details to communicate a sense of the subject being described.
Mar 11, · Writing Feedback Posts: 2 "War Is Hell" - English Descriptive Essay. Athanatos. Mar 8, #1. Let me show you the tip of the iceberg, the entrance to hell. The first thing you will notice is the pungent smell of dead rotting flesh, from all of your fallen comrades and enemies. The cool wind that blows around you doesn't seem to help to get. Write a story about the journey to a concentration camp - used from year 7 to 11 Includes planning sheet, pictures and scaffolding for imagery and pathetic fallacy.
In preparation for writing on a war scene, one may wish to peruse the writings of professionals for examples. Such works as Here is Your War and Brave Men by World War II's correspondent Ernie. A descriptive writing lesson which focuses on the pupils imagining they are a soldier in WW1. Starter focuses on improving vocabulary through looking up what key words mean, then a short clip which allows the pupils to put themselves in the shoes of.