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My War Diary

Ixchel Ameli Sánchez Solís

Created on September 19, 2025

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Transcript

Entry 2

Entry 1

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My War Diary

Private Thomas H. Carter

British Army 1914-1916

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Entry 5

Day 1

The mud seeps into everything. My boots never dry, and the stench of rot clings to us all. Rats crawl over our blankets at night, bold as if they own this trench. I can feel my feet swelling and burning; the medic calls it “trench foot.” Still, I tell myself it’s better than being out there, where the shells never stop. At night I dream of my mother’s kitchen, the smell of bread still warm from the oven.

Day 3

We heard the hissing before we saw it—the cloud of gas rolling toward us. I fumbled for my mask, hands trembling. Some weren’t so lucky. The coughing, the screaming—it will haunt me forever. One comrade wrote home: “It is cruel, you cannot see it coming, and yet it chokes the very life from you” (The National Archives, n.d.). He was right.

Day 5

Rumors proved true—we saw tanks today. Great steel beasts crawling over the mud, spitting fire. The Germans looked shocked, but so were we. Part of me felt hope that maybe this machine could end it all, but another part whispered: if war invents such monsters, what comes next?

Day 2

This morning, silence. No gunfire. A German voice shouted “Merry Christmas!” and before I knew it, men on both sides were meeting in the middle. We shook hands, traded chocolate and cigarettes. Someone kicked a football. For a brief moment, I felt human again, not just a soldier. When we returned to the trenches, my heart ached knowing tomorrow the war would resume.

Day 4

t dawn, we went “over the top.” I had never heard such thunder; the ground shook with every shell. Men fell before they reached the wire, cut down by machine guns. I pushed forward. When I looked back, whole lines had vanished. They say 60,000 of ours were lost on the first day. I can still see the faces.