Citations

Metcalf, George. "Objects and Photos of the First World War - Photographs."Canadian War Museum. Web. 05 Dec. 2010. <http://www.warmuseum.ca/cwm/exhibitions/guerre/photo-e.aspx?PageId=3.E.3&photo=3.E.3.b&f=/cwm/exhibitions/guerre/life-at-the-front-e.aspx&p=1>.


Metcalf, George. "Objects and Photos of the First World War - Archival Documents." Canadian War Museum. Web. 05 Dec. 2010. <http://www.warmuseum.ca/cwm/exhibitions/guerre/photo-e.aspx?PageId=3.C.1&photo=3.C.1.e&f=/cwm/exhibitions/guerre/archival-maps-e.aspx&p=1>.


"Objects and Photos of the First World War - Propaganda." Canadian War Museum. Web. 06 Dec. 2010. <http://www.warmuseum.ca/cwm/exhibitions/guerre/photo-e.aspx?PageId=3.D.6&photo=3.D.6.c&f=/cwm/exhibitions/guerre/anti-german-e.aspx&p=1>.


"Objects and Photos of the First World War - Leaving For Home." Canadian War Museum. Web. 06 Dec. 2010. <http://www.warmuseum.ca/cwm/exhibitions/guerre/photo-e.aspx?PageId=3.E.6&photo=3.E.6.j&f=/cwm/exhibitions/guerre/post-war-photos-e.aspx&p=1>.


"Wilfred Owen - Dulce Est Decorum Est." War Poems and Poets of the First World War. Web. 05 Dec. 2010. <http://www.warpoetry.co.uk/owen1.html>.


Historica Minute. "Military- Vimy Ridge." Historica Dominion. Web. 05 Dec. 2010.


"File:Western Front 1914." Wikimedia Commons. Web. 07 Dec. 2010. <http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Western_front_1914.jpg>.


"WarMuseum.ca - History of the First World War - Life at the Front." Canadian War Museum. Web. 07 Dec. 2010. <http://www.warmuseum.ca/cwm/exhibitions/guerre/daily-routine-e.aspx>.


"History of the First World War - Battles and Fighting." Canadian War Museum. Web. 07 Dec. 2010. <http://www.warmuseum.ca/cwm/exhibitions/guerre/rifles-e.aspx>.


"The World's Verdict on Germany." Canadian War Museum. Web. 07 Dec. 2010. <http://www.warmuseum.ca/cwm/exhibitions/guerre/photo-e.aspx?PageId=3.D.6&photo=3.D.6.c&f=%2fcwm%2fexhibitions%2fguerre%2fanti-german-e.aspx>.

Vimy Ridge

Dear Diary,                                                                                                                        April 14th, 1917

I am overfilled with joy and pride. I am Canadian, and I am ever so proud because the most amazing event ever has taken place. Five days ago, on April 9th, we, the Canadian Corps, fought as a united army and showed the world our greatness. The French and the British both tried to take over Vimy Ridge in the past, but neither were successful; they thought that it could not be done. I hear that there were many deaths; I can't even imagine how many people must have of died to try and capture this ridge. We ourselves have had 10, 600 casualties. God bless the families back at home!

Map of Attack Plans on Vimy Ridge

This ridge was captured by the Germans at the beginning of the war in October, and we have wanted it back since because it is very easy to defend and very dangerous for the enemy to attack. Since the British and French failed to capture the ridge the British High Command put the task to the Canadian Corps. They let us fight as one whole individual unit. 

I have given you background on this amazing victory, but I think it's time I share my personal story. I have already expressed the hardships of being at war and the disappointment of realizing that this wasn't any easy way to glory, but now, the announcement of this task was like a call from heaven; we were getting a chance to shine. We knew that this battle had to be fought strategically in order to win; we couldn't repeat the mistakes of the French and British. We were under the control of General Byng and received intense training weeks before the attack. This battle was going to be a very big operation; there was even a full size model built of the ridge so we could see exactly where the Germans would be hiding and where they could attack from. We weakened German defence my bombing the ridge the weeks before the attack, as a part of the strategic plan. 

The Ridge is captured!

On the day off attack, it was 5 AM when we all rushed out of the trenches and came out of tunnels to overtake the ridge. We kept trudging forward, even when one of our commanders was killed. We needed this win, and we knew we could do it. All around me, I saw men falling and falling and prayed that the next bullet shot wouldn't hit me. Into the first line of trenches we went, shooting, stabbing and killing; we got hold of the first two lines of trenches that day. This battle continued for three more days and we kept our strategic plans going while the German defences weakened. 

Then finally on April 12, it was ours; Vimy Ridge was ours! If you could only have been there to experience the shouts and cries of joy from each soldier. We, the Canadians, under our own command did what others could not. We are a Nation and we are strong! I couldn't even hear myself let out sighs of relief because the noise was so loud. This was the first victory I was a part of... this is what made me realize why I decided to come to this war.

Summary Video of Vimy Ridge

Yours Truly,

Life without War

Dear Diary,                                                                                                                       March 2nd, 1919

Coming home from the war

Sarah has aged; lines of worry seemed to be have etched into her forehead. She tells me that every moment of the day she prayed to the Lord for my well being and when  she heard the war had ended was ecstatic knowing that I was on my way home. But now, she says that her worry has grown even more. I've lost two of my fingers: my pinky and index, and my body contains at least fifty scars, but worst of all my mind has retreated into a shell of constant fear. I fear every little sound and action. How do we finally know that we are done? What if they call us again? I will not go. They cannot take me. They've already  made me into the living dead.

My age is only twenty two. Do they not say that this is the age of youth, the age of adventure? Here I sit, with Sarah's hand around me, yet I do not feel any of this. I've seen men blown into a million pieces, I've seen men gagged to death by gases, I've seen men cry for help and not been able to help them; I've experienced too much in these three years, I'm done with experience now.

I want all my memories to fade, I want them to disappear, but I know ten years from now my mind will still remember each detail with rigour. The war is a part of me now, and will never leave.
Sarah has shown me a poem that I think can give you only a glimpse of what I have gone through.

The lies of adventure filled our ears only to be shattered:

"Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,

  Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,

Till on the haunting flares(2) we turned our backs

And towards our distant rest(3) began to trudge.

Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots

But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots(4) 

Of tired, outstripped(5) Five-Nines(6) that dropped behind.

Gas!(7) Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,

Fitting the clumsy helmets(8) just in time;

But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,

And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime(9) . . .

Dim, through the misty panes(10) and thick green light,

As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,

He plunges at me, guttering,(11) choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace

Behind the wagon that we flung him in,

And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,

His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood

Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,

Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud(12) 

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest(13) 

To children ardent(14) for some desperate glory,

The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est Pro patria mori.(15)"
By: Owen Wilfred (War poet)

Yours truly,

Weapons

Dear Diary,                                                                                                                         May 16th, 1915

I am so fed up with our ROSS RIFLE! Months we spent at Valcartier training with this rifle, and now when we have finally gotten here it does us NO good. Did Hughes know where he was sending us? He was so proud of his rifle, thinking that it had the best accuracy ever; I feel embarrassed for him because all of the soldiers are mad. The rifle constantly gets clogged up with the mud and stops working. It may be lighter than the other rifles, but what good does that do when it's not practical?

Sam Hughes at Valcartier 

At Valcartier this rifle had amazing accuracy, but here it only causes trouble. There was an early morning attack the other day; we were on guard waiting for them, but the rain was falling down hard. At one point my rifle slipped from my  hands and I frantically grabbed it again, only to find that the rifle had got jammed. My heart started to pound at a thousand beats a minute; I kept pulling the trigger and tried to get the mud cleared, but nothing was working. I quickly ducked down with shots flew overhead and I heard Jonathan yelling to ask if I was okay. I tried to camouflage myself as best as I could praying to the Lord, that I would not be hit. The Lord must have heard my prayers because not too long after, the attack died down. I do not want to even look at the Ross Rifle ever again... it could have caused my death.

Ross Rifle

We use the rifle as one of our main weapons of attack, so we need to quickly get new ones. I hear news of switching to the British Lee-enfield rifle and if that rumour is true I cannot wait for it to happen! That rifle has the ability to fire 15 rounds per minute and most importantly, it does not get jammed. I just pray to God that I do not get stuck in a situation like yesterday morning again.

Yours Truly,

Life at the Fronts

Dear Diary,                                                                                                                    January 15th, 1915                                                                                                      

Map of where we are. (The western front, between France and Germany).

I am sorry it has been so long since I've written. Life is very hard at the front lines; I've been here for two months and I can tell you that it is not as easy as what that poster had depicted in my hometown. Our nights are filled with uncomfortable sleep and dreams; we rest our backs on the back of the trenches and try to fall asleep, but our nostrils are filled the stench of rotting bodies and urine. In addition, there is a major problem of rats... all of this dirt has created rats the size of cats. We try and kill them with our guns and shovels when we can, but they produce faster than we can kill. How I wish I could be back home beside my fire. It is very cold here too, and we are constantly wet. We sit here on the western front, where once people must have come for vacations, but now we come here to fight.

I so far consider myself very lucky because I still have good feet. Many men have had horrible things happen to their feet... we're not sure exactly what it is. Their feet seem to be going numb and turning red. I pray to the Lord, that it is nothing to serious.

Everyday we wake up one hour before dawn and go on guard because there is always a threat of attack in the early morning. By the time the first hour of light comes, we hear the first shot of the day, but it is nothing too intensive. We are served some rum every morning, as well as we clean our rifles because we get regular inspections. You might think that all the war consists of is fighting, but  we have to do more than just that. More than we fight, we do our chores; everyone has specific chores. Today my chore was to drain the trenches, which is considered to be of the laborious chores, but other people have to re-fill sandbags or prepare the latrines and such.

Draining the Trenches

Just through print, I don't think you can even begin to understand my grief, but I tell you... this is nothing like the glorious adventure I thought I was coming into. Everyday I have a yearning to come back home, it's eating inside of me. I want to be sitting the comforting arms of Sarah; I cannot wait for the war to be over. They have taken all of us to come here, not even considering that we are so young. Please Lord, let this war end soon.

The Propoganda

Dear Diary,                                                                                                                 September 29, 1914

It is the 29^th of September and Jonathan enlisted into the army today. Many of my other friends enlisted a while ago, but Jonathan was my dearest friend. I have been reluctant because my beloved Sarah is sick, but I will need to leave soon too. This adventurous glory is something I cannot miss! As I was walking through the town today I came across a poster (picture on the right), and looking at it made me feel disheartened. Why was I still standing here in Canada? Everyone who has gone out to war is risking their life to save us, and I sit here in a protected circle. How can I let poor Jonathan give his life for me? I come across these poster daily, and each time it is a painful reminder, as well as an stir to the guilt that sits inside of me.

Germany needs to leave!

I never gave thought to war before, but now I can only imagine standing with your back straight in your crisp uniform and shining gun, trudging along the plains to represent your country. I imagine that all that have left must be training hard to fight in the war. How honourable must it be to represent one's own country on distant lands. The Canadians will shine through this war, and we will not let anyone attack us and think that we are weak. The Germans, that started this war, will learn that they shouldn't have done so; they have put the whole world to fight, thinking that they are so great, but they should wait until the Canadians shine. I cannot wait to enlist; I must enlist soon... it is the only right thing to. I pray that the Lord gives dear Sarah her health back soon. Please Lord, let me help my country.