Young Writers Society

Something doesn't feel right about this, but i was thinking maybe you could possibly point out my grammar mistakes and tenses, since i often mix past and present terribly. >.<
Oh, and i'm not sure who is general, private etc etc. Maybe one of you knows? This is just what i've done so far, and i want to know what y'all think before i write anymore of chapter one.

CHAPTER ONE

1944

JESSICA BREVET. FRANCE, EASY COMPANY. PARA TROUPER

“SOMEBODY CALL A MEDIC!” I heard someone cry. There was a strange ringing in my ears as I looked around for the injured soldier on the dead grass, but after a while of looking through the dense fog, and seeing nothing but soldiers in action, I realised that I was the wounded soldier.
The sharp sound of gunshots made me cry, the sickening smell of my blood made me throw up. The whole experience made me just want to die, truth be told, I was dying. The irony…
“Don’t worry! You’re going to be fine private!”
I struggled to focus my sight on the frantic soldier as he searched for the exit of my bullet wound. His warm hands against my body made me feel slightly calmer as I wriggled and screamed in agony. After the soldier ripped open my t-shirt, I heard him gasp, and I tried (and failed) to cover my self up.
“You’re a… a woman?” I heard him squeak.
“Please,” I gurgled.
There was nothing I could do; they’d probably send me straight back once I was fixed, if I was fixed… I couldn’t even explain. No excuses for a woman if I couldn’t even explain anything.
The sound of footsteps and yelling soldiers made me turn on my side to hide my exposed chest, and as I did I threw up my own thick blood on to the wet grass.
I closed my eyes, thinking of happy moments, songs I liked and my family back home. The only problem was, I couldn’t think straight when my own blood was soaking my clothes and the green grass.
“Webster? Webster what happened to him?” Eugene’s voice brought my screaming to none, and I waited for shock to hit him when he discovered I was not a he…
“She,” I corrected him as he rolled me over and stared into my sad eyes. There was nothing I couldn’t love about this guy, so beautiful: handsome, flawless. But I hated the way he looked at me as if I was a disgusting piece of broccoli he’d unfortunately swallowed!
“I’m not called Jesse, I’m called Jessica… I…”
My mouth filled with blood, and I began to choke on it. The pain of choking was terrible, it felt as if someone had stuck a thousand pins down my throat and told me to gulp them all down in one go.
Webster rolled me back onto my side, patting my back gently and letting me spew my guts up. Meanwhile, Eugene began working on my wound, applying pressure and searching for the bullet. It was painful, obviously, and everything was beginning to numb throughout my body.
I could no longer taste, my hearing was deafening, and my sense of smell was beginning to fade. I knew something like this was going to happen, I knew I’d probably get hit and end up dying on the battlefield. But I wanted the experience, selfish me pretending to be a boy, just because I could. Much thinner and less busty than every other woman I’d ever met, my short brown hair and plain features, I could definitely qualify for a teenage boy.
Maybe this was where I was always meant to die… in the middle of a field in open fire, somewhere in France.
My thoughts began to slide, my vision fading, mouth slacking…
“Damn you Jess! Don’t you dare die! Stay with us!” I heard Webster crying, heard his whimpering as he cradled my head in his lap, letting me spew blood all over him.
“Come on Eugene! Hurry up for fuck’s sake!”
“I know I know! I almost got it, I almost…”
Silence.
“Sorry,” my voice sounded weak and awful as it mixed with the horrific noise of the gurgling blood at the back of my throat.
My limbs began to slack and I could even hear my heartbeat fade. Eugene’s hand retracted from my insides, I shuddered, closed my eyes, and never woke up.

***

RICHARD WINTERS. FRANCE. EASY COMPANY. PARA TROOPER


The news of a female death angered many, and the situation was very unreal. Plenty of people with high authority in the army were coming in and demanding they speak with whoever god damn fool sent the troops out… probably to demote the one responsible for signing the girl up, and not even noticing she was a she, and not a boy. But one thing I was sure of was that this had most likely happened before.
Something as careless and thought provoking as this made me sick with guilt for not seeing the trooper for whom she really was. Needless the tragic news, Easy Company had pleased me so far; having lost fine soldiers – the remaining few had done me proud.
They executed the Germans swiftly and destroyed the guns, tanks and bunkers with stealth. And Spiers was a guy you just had to admire, his skills and attitude towards his job should have got him a promotion, but at the moment it was somehow not happening.
Plenty of other troops all did as they were told, Compten was a strong man and high in intelligence strategies. However, he was too overwhelmed to even continue his duty, any longer and he would have been driven insane by his terrifying experiences.
But were we not all on the brink of insanity?
Friends and jobs were all that was keeping us sane, and to loose both would drive you off track and onto the dirt track of crazy…

Hmm, well first off, nice block of text. No, seriously, you'll scare your reader away right from the start.
After that, the body is perfect, except for the fact that you don't make a new paragraph after dialogue, and that you use CAPS unnecessarily, and that you spelled 'realised' incorrectly, and that you used 'loose' when you clearly needed a 'lose'.
Yeah, other than those minor points, you're golden!

Sorry about that, I'm not normally that harsh. I'll do a better review soon, I promise. But do read the above again, although I pointed it out in a mean way, they were all real points.

I didn't spell 'realised' incorrectly actually. Grr. I'm British, and we don't use a 'Z', but we can if we want. I really don't get the whole lose thing, is there even two o's in any of the 'lose' words?

"Loose" is what your trousers will become when you "lose" your belt. (unless you don't wear trousers)

Oh, and i'm not sure who is general, private etc etc.

This sort of information can easily be found on the internet, but, for your benefit, I’ll explain the chain of command here. The private is the lowest rung, above him is a corporal, sergeant, and then general.

Try not to use so many CAPS, it reads as if you were shouting. I know that in novels, the first words of a chapter are all in CAPS, but this is merely a short story.

“SOMEBODY CALL A MEDIC!” I heard someone cry. There was a strange ringing in my ears as I looked around for the injured soldier on the dead grass, but after a while of looking through the dense fog, and seeing nothing but soldiers in action, I realised that I was the wounded soldier.

This paragraph here sums up one of your main problems perfectly. The MC (Main Character) is too distant and far from her. She is calm throughout her story, despite the fact that she’s been hit badly enough to die. I think you should connect her to her emotions a little bit more. As it is, one would expect her to be a robot for all the feelings she expresses.

“Don’t worry! You’re going to be fine private!”

Before and after making a Direct Address (in this case, ‘private’) you need a comma. If (as it is in this case) the DA comes at the end of a sentence, no comma is needed; its place taken by an exclamation point or a period or a question mark. Examples: “Dorothy, please read Chapter four”, “When, Mark, will you ever grow up?”, “Have fun now, Jason?”

His warm hands against my body made me feel slightly calmer as I wriggled and screamed in agony.

Again she is distant from her pain, but worse this time: you put complete opposites together…in one sentence…that’s bad. Work a little harder!

“You’re a… a woman?” I heard him squeak.
“Please,” I gurgled.

Hardy men on the battlefield don’t squeak, and if there are bullets flying every which way, I would assume that he would drag her off the battlefield into a trench or bunker first. Likewise, medics don’t pulls bullets out of wounded soldiers right on the battlefield…with their bare hands. She should have made it back to the medic tent on a stretcher or in the arms of her companions. Of course, this may change the ending quite drastically, so you do with it as you please.

“Webster? Webster, what happened to him?”

Comma after the DA!

But I hated the way he looked at me as if I was a disgusting piece of broccoli he’d unfortunately swallowed!

Use something a little stronger than broccoli, please. Comparing disgust to broccoli just makes him sound kiddish. Soldiers don’t care if their food tastes like crap. Most of the time, they’re just worried that they’ll get shot while eating, or that their mealcan supplies didn’t make it…again.

“I’m not called Jesse, I’m called Jessica… I…”

Called? No, no, what you’re looking for is, “My name isn’t Jesse.”

Webster rolled me back onto my side, patting my back gently and letting me spew my guts up.

Is she actually spewing her guts up? (it should have been spew out) That would mean the bullet eviscerated her on its way through her body. Try using something different. If something was really sad, then letting them spill their guts would be okay, but on a battlefield, using that figure of speech can be dangerous.

Meanwhile, Eugene began working on my wound, applying pressure and searching for the bullet.

With what? Is Eugene a medic? Why work in the middle of the battelfield? Best to get to a fox hole first and then concentrate on the wound.

“Damn you Jess! Don’t you dare die! Stay with us!” I heard Webster crying, heard his whimpering as he cradled my head in his lap, letting me spew blood all over him.

Comma after the DA, and you mention ‘spew’ again. Repetition is not good for your story.

Eugene’s hand retracted from my insides, I shuddered, closed my eyes, and never woke up.

Alright, now I’m confused. Were her guts really coming out? Something that serious cannot be done with a single bullet.

RICHARD WINTERS. FRANCE. EASY COMPANY. PARA TROOPER

Again with the CAPS, and it’s supposed to be paratrooper. No space.

Plenty of people with high authority in the army were coming in and demanding they speak with whoever god damn fool sent the troops out…

That’s a vague generalisation. Were they military officers? Government officials?

probably to demote the one responsible for signing the girl up, and not even noticing she was a she, and not a boy.[/quote

Not possible. Signing up into the army during WWII (I’m assuming that’s the war you’re talking about) would have required a full ID. Can’t let the krauts nudge their men in, eh?

But one thing I was sure of was that this had most likely happened before.[/quote

This is confusing. We’re back to using the ‘I’ format (first person) and yet the MC just died. If you meant to speak from a different POV (point of view) then you should have specified it a little more.

They executed the Germans swiftly and destroyed the guns, tanks and bunkers with stealth.

I can hardly imagine a single regiment (not even a full regiment, since they’ve lost a few) taking on the German bad guys ‘with stealth’. They fought trench wars in France, and those were drawn out, bloody, muddy, gritty days. No stealth…unless it was a night excursion over no-man’s-land, and those usually ended badly.

Spiers and Compton aren’t people you mentioned before, so it’s a little confusing for the reader. I suggest using Eugene and the other soldier, just to keep things consistent.

Friends and jobs were all that was keeping us sane, and to loose both would drive you off track and onto the dirt track of crazy…

Lose, not loose.





I was harsh, I’ll admit that, but if you ever want to get somewhere with your writing, then you’ll need the harsh reviews just as much (if not more) as the cushiony, cuddly reviews. So, buck up, bite your lips till they bleed, and rewrite!

XD Jenth

OK, thanks. i think i'll redraft the whole thing haha. xD your review helped a lot!