Young Writers Society

I first posted this as a newbie (it was actually the reason I joined YWS), and only got a couple of reviews. I've touched it up, and I think it's improved a bit. Still, I'm going to use it as an entry for something around the middle of next month, and I really need some fresh eyes. Thanks!

No Man's Land
Christmas Eve, and I sat shivering in the trenches, my body covered in frozen mud. Gunshots and explosions rang out around me, and the pain as the reverberating soundwaves all but tore through my eardrums was excruciating.

Ducked down in the bottom of the trench to avoid the blast from a nearby shell, I took the opportunity to remember Christmases gone by, wonderful times spent with my family. Ellen and Michael would have no Father Christmas this year, I realised, and the thought grieved me. I had written to them, and to their mother, wishing them all a merrier Christmas than I imagined I would have; but to be home with them once more – it was my greatest wish.

Ellen would be ten in the next month. Almost too old to believe in Father Christmas, but when I looked at her I would always remember the miracle baby I had held while her supposedly barren mother slept, that broken, perfect day we spent together in the hospital. And little Michael – my son would be four by then, playing with toy soldiers - one British soldier, known to him only as “Papa”, should have defeated the entire German army in a matter of minutes.

My dear boy, I hope you will never have to experience the truth of war in that hard, cold reality. The winter was cruel; the Germans were merciless. We all suffered; clothes fresh three or four weeks ago, boots barely removed since we enlisted. The mud was frozen harder than concrete, and there was not even snow to lighten the mood.

How wonderful it was, to be able to imagine myself with my family at home then, even while I was so cold and dirty. It was so far from beautiful – so unlike my native England, my home. The frost shattered before me, and I ducked to avoid the full force of the shell's explosion.

As my shift ended that night and I retreated to the men’s quarters, my ears still ringing torturously, they caught the soft, far-off sound of the old German carol.
Holder Knabe im lockigen Haar,
Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh

The gentle lullaby was distant, but it silenced the restless men around me. As the hymn drew to a close, the British troops were suddenly singing back, and deep as my hatred for the Germans and their ideas was, I could not help but to join my comrades in singing Good King Wenceslas back.

And then I went back to bed, the true Christmas spirit warming my soul, and I tried not to think that tomorrow’s day of peace would bring death once more.

-----

Christmas Day, and my shift was about to start. It was nearly ten, and as I headed to the trenches one of the new lads – I believe it was young Jimmy - was coming the other way.

“Enjoy your shift, Sarge,” he said with a grin. I'd never seen the boy so excited, and as he was a raw recruit, he was the single most excitable kid in the battalion.

“Will I?” I asked wearily, and Jimmy only laughed. My thoughts, of course, were focused not on the war, but on my family. I had dreamed the night before of being warm at home, watching Ellen and Michael squeal in delight as they opened presents; rather than here, shooting at men – the ruthless Hun, but men nevertheless - with whom we sang songs of peace the night before. Of course, all this was before I knew.

As I came to the trenches, there was shouting, in French – one side with an English accent, the other German. I looked over the trench and some of the younger German soldiers had actually dared to come up and into No Man's Land.

I glanced at the Lieutenant behind me. He kept his expression stoic as he glanced over himself, deliberately not letting on that he had any opinion about it at all. The men around me were grinning, but French always was my worst subject at school, and I couldn't imagine what they were so happy about, in the trenches on Christmas Day instead of with their families.

Three or four men jumped out to join the Germans. I flinched, expecting to hear the poor lads – none of them over twenty-three years old – die. Instead I heard laughter.

Before I knew it we were all out on No Man's Land. A football had appeared, although nobody seemed to know where from. The scene was a wonder above all wonders. All around me, the British soldiers laughed and joked with German soldiers, the Hun, the hated enemy. There was no hostility today, only freedom; and while normally my soul reeked with hatred for Germany and its army, I could not help but laugh and join in, tackling the football off of a lad far younger than any of our own battalion. I glanced at him, shocked to see that he could be barely more than fifteen. He put me in mind of my youngest brother, and I tousled his hair involuntarily with what I hoped was a friendly smile. He grinned back amiably, and with one swift kick took the ball from in front of my right foot and sent it flying to another of his men, laughing.

I called with an identical laugh to the nearest Fusilier, but that happens to be Davis, and while he was one of the best soldiers there ever was, and by far the greatest friend, when it came to football his skills were limited, to say the least. I groaned, albeit cheerfully, and ran to help. The boy ran alongside me.

“Merry Christmas, Tommy,” he panted with a grin aimed in my direction.

“Gute Weinachten, Fritz.”

There was not a gun, or a shell, or a wound in sight. There was no snow, which the night before had annoyed me, but then, I'd wager there was no snow in England either. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted the Major striding towards us. He looks furious, but I didn't care, because here there was friendship. Within the hour, by the look on his face, we would be warring again, but for now, just for this last half-hour, one among thousands...

We had tasted peace.

Christmas Eve, and I sat shivering in the trenches, my body covered in frozen mud. Gunshots and explosions rang out around me, and the pain as the reverberating soundwaves all but tore through my eardrums was excruciating.

Your awesome intro felt like a movie scene. One minute there is the characters thoughts about Christmas. Then it's revealed that he's covered in frozen mud, in a trench. In a movie I imagine it would be like a camera pulling out of an actors eye and revealing the shocking location that he is in. Finally, explosions roar around him. Your eardrums detail is also cinematic. I imagine it would be something like Steven Spielberg's Omaha Beach scene from Saving Private Ryan. The part where Tom Hank's character is shell shocked. God job, you've hooked me.

Ducked down in the bottom of the trench to avoid the blast from a nearby shell, I took the opportunity to remember Christmases gone by, wonderful times spent with my family. Ellen and Michael would have no Father Christmas this year, I realised, and the thought grieved me. I had written to them, and to their mother, wishing them all a merrier Christmas than I imagined I would have; but to be home with them once more – [color=#008040]it was my greatest wish.[/color]

That is awkwardly worded. I had to read it multiple times. I strongly recommend that you take away the "it" it will make it much easier to understand. Actually, it truly reads a lot better without it.

Ellen would be ten in the next month. Almost too old to believe in Father Christmas, but when I looked at her I would always remember the miracle baby I had held while her supposedly barren mother slept, that broken, perfect day we spent together in the hospital. And little Michael – my son would be four by then, playing with toy soldiers - one British soldier, known to him only as “Papa”, should have defeated the entire German army in a matter of minutes.

Wow, what a beautiful sentence.

How wonderful it was, to be able to imagine myself with my family at home then, even while I was so cold and dirty. It was so far from beautiful – so unlike my native England, my home. The frost shattered before me, and I ducked to avoid the full force of the shell's explosion.

That seems to sudden. Perhaps he heard the mortar incoming, or something. Otherwise, it's strange to be reading something that is at a steady pacer and then head straight into an action detail. As far as I know movies only use it fro cheap scares.

As my shift ended that night and I retreated to the men’s quarters, my ears still ringing rang torturously, they caught the soft, far-off sound of the old German carol.

Not sure, but I'd say sticking to one tense is always safe.


The gentle lullaby was distant, but it silenced the restless men around me. As the hymn drew to a close, the British troops were suddenly singing back, and deep as my hatred for the Germans and their ideas was, I could not help but to join my comrades in singing Good King Wenceslas back.

And then I went back to bed, the true Christmas spirit warming my soul, and I tried not to think that tomorrow’s day of peace would bring death once more.

I'm feeling that that sentence could use a bit of work. Right now it is bending my mind because something about is picky. Rephrasing that part would make the sentence much more powerful. Because in it's current state it seems oddly worded.

“Enjoy your shift, Sarge,” he said with a grin. I'd never seen the boy so excited, and as he was a raw recruit, he was the single most excitable kid in the battalion.

What in the world do you mean by "raw" recruit? And that last added bit to the sentence seems a bit repetitive. You already stated that the boy is happy.

As I came to the trenches, there was shouting, in French – one side with an English accent, the other German. I looked over the trench and some of the younger German soldiers had actually dared to come up and into No Man's Land.

That wording doesn't work for me. Sorry.

Three or four men jumped out to join the Germans. I flinched, expecting to hear the poor lads – none of them over twenty-three years old – die. Instead I heard laughter.

I don't quite understand your use of dashes, but I'll let it slide. I assume you are using them to create a sense of urgency in the scene.

Before I knew it we were all out on No Man's Land. A football had appeared, although nobody seemed to know where from. The scene was a wonder above all wonders. All around me, the British soldiers laughed and joked with German soldiers, the Hun, the hated enemy. There was no hostility today, only freedom; and while normally my soul reeked with hatred for Germany and its army, I could not help but laugh and join in, tackling the football off of a lad far younger than any of our own battalion. I glanced at him, shocked to see that he could be barely more than fifteen. He put me in mind of my youngest brother, and I tousled his hair involuntarily with what I hoped was a friendly smile. He grinned back amiably, and with one swift kick took the ball from in front of my right foot and sent it flying to another of his men, laughing.

Excuse me Grin, is this based on an actual event? If so, what have I been missing! If not, then you are an incredibly talented young woman. Not that you weren't to begin with.

I called with an identical laugh to the nearest Fusilier, but that happens happened to be Davis, and while he was one of the best soldiers there ever was, and by far the greatest friend, when it came to football his skills were limited, to say the least. I groaned, albeit cheerfully, and ran to help. The boy ran alongside me.

For a minute there you were writing in present tense.

There was not a gun, or a shell, or a wound in sight. There was no snow, which the night before had annoyed me, but then, I'd wager there was no snow in England either. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted the Major striding towards us. He looks furious, but I didn't care, because here there was friendship. Within the hour, by the look on his face, we would be warring again, but for now, just for this last half-hour, one among thousands...

How could you break the mood with the use of the bad word "annoyed"? It breaks the sense of peace. With that aside, good paragraph.

We had tasted peace.

I may be missing a critical detail here, but I can't quite figure out how this ending phrase goes with what was said before. I mean the sentence before the ellipses.

What I liked:

Your intro was amazing. The twist at the end with the soldiers playing a game of football was unheard of for me. It was nice to see something refreshing.

What I did not like:

There were a few strangely worded sentences that broke the mostly flawless narrative. This is a bit biased but I think you have too many commas. You can find ways to omit them and create more individual sentences. Or completely take out a few sentences if it's just repeating something that was already established.

Overall: I'm glad I decided to take a look at this. I didn't know what to expect since you once said that my writing was different from what you did. But in reality, I found many similarities between the way you and me write. Your protagonist, which you have set in a war zone, is not the stereotypical action hero. He is simply a family man, in a dire situation. Well done. PM me with any questions, comments, and/or controversies that you may have.

-

Hallo, dear!

Hey, how come this hasn't received many reviews? It's rather good.

Ok, so I'm not going to go line by line. Rather, just some impressions.

Subject:

I absolutely love the event behind this story. It's a beautiful thing to write about, and you've taken it on very well. I like how the football game wasn't the only thing you wrote about, yet was central to the piece. However, I do think you could have incorporated a build up to it in the paragraphs before. You mention a couple of times the soldier's hate for Germans, but you don't put a strong basis behind that or develop it further by looking at personal experiences he or his friends may have had.

Emotion:

Some emotion here was really good. I have to say, though, that the time I felt the most emotion was when he was thinking of his family. While this is fair enough, as family is important, I would like it if you could expand on some emotion during the latter part of the story. You've started, and it is great, but I would like a little more.

Description:

I loved your opening line, the description there was really nice. I do, however, think that you could have gone a little bit further during the end. The one part that really stuck out for me was the part when the soldiers entered no-man's land. For me, this seems like a pretty big occasion, and I'd love it if you could incorporate a few more reactions from the men, and also describe how they all did go up there. As in, was it slippery climbing up the trenches, etc? And why did the narrator follow - curiosity, or just following the rest?

Discrepancies:

A few things such as sentence wording and structure felt a little odd to me. There's nothing big, and it looked like A.M pointed out the main stuff, but just read it out loud to yourself and have a look.

That's all I have, really! It was a very nice piece - well written and all.

-Amy

Hey.

First of all, you can write really well. You have a clear, smooth, and direct narrative voice that I envy. I thought, in theory, this piece was very good.

I say in theory because I found the content very unrealistic. I'm somewhat of a history nerd, and I didn't feel this was an authentic reflection of WWI.

As my shift ended that night and I retreated to the men’s quarters,

Christmas Day, and my shift was about to start. It was nearly ten, and as I headed to the trenches one of the new lads – I believe it was young Jimmy - was coming the other way.



“Enjoy your shift, Sarge,” he said with a grin.

^ You make it sound like trench warfare is a job: 9-5 you're in the trenches, then you can go back to the barracks, get some rest, try to think about other things.
It wasn't a job; it was a life. In reality they could never escape it, save for when they got periods of leave, for like two days every couple months or something. Mostly the biggest error you have here is that in reality, the soldiers never got to leave the trenches. They slept in the trenches, for a few hours a time whenever they could, in the mud and rain and on top of each other. Again, they could never escape it; it was constant hell. They didn't get breaks.


I'm gonna say again that I really do like this story, and I know the ending bit is vital to it, but... I honestly could never see that happening. Germans and the Allies playing football with each other? I don't think in reality they could ever get over the animosity, hatred, and prejudice toward each other, as well as the general weariness, to have this happen. I think there'd be a pretty big cultural divide which would make it hard as well. The idea could work, say, with one or two men from each side sharing a moment like this (maybe change the piece to go more in that direction), but I don't think a collective football game in No Man's Land could happen.


This is all just the vibe I personally got, but I still think you should do a bit more research (especially on the sleeping conditions, fix that up a bit). Great job though, like on the style, writing, atmosphere, and everything... but I still don't think it's very realistic, content-wise.

But of course, keep writing and all that, because you are a great writer.

LOL. If this were in WW2, this would never happen. They were too... I dunno. Hateful of each other?

Anyway, as far as stories go, I think I would like less family (gasp!) and more description of the game in the trenches. The hopeful part should be more on the peace between the soldiers. The family stuff is just background information, so don't spend half the story on it.

Thanks, guys, I really appreciate it. *works on it*

I should also point out that this is based on a true story. I know it sounds unrealistic, I thought so too, but I did some research and on Christmas Day in 1914, the Royal Welsh Fusiliers and the German Panzergrenadier Battalion played football in No Man's Land, and the Germans won 2-1. I'll have to make that clearer, if it wasn't obvious.

Well, all the same, thank you for the reviews, I'll be sure and work on it.

Haha, it totally does sound unrealistic! But it does make sense that it was for World War I as opposed to World War II. That wouldn't have happened in WW2... it was just too intense for that.

So! To make this sound more realistic, consider adding more depth and describing the game more... the soldiers of both games and so on. It'll feel better.

Reading this story, I felt as if I as there. Your description was excellent!

My dear boy, I hope you will never have to experience the truth of war in that hard, cold reality.

This was a little confusing, to me. In this sentence, he is talking to his son. In the previous paragraph, he was talking about his son without using "you". But this is only a minor detail.
The fact that this was a true story made it even better. Great job and keep writing!