Chris Foster Posted 4 March , 2008 Share Posted 4 March , 2008 Ok folks I will set this month's ball rolling. "The Trench raid" I'm not going to be around at the end of the month so maybe some kind soul will offer to set up the poll, at that time. Good luck Chris Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Landsturm Posted 4 March , 2008 Share Posted 4 March , 2008 Good choice! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest soren1916 Posted 5 March , 2008 Share Posted 5 March , 2008 Fab! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ozzie Posted 5 March , 2008 Share Posted 5 March , 2008 Good topic. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
squirrel Posted 5 March , 2008 Share Posted 5 March , 2008 I'll get me thinking cap on then! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Gunboat Posted 7 March , 2008 Share Posted 7 March , 2008 I was toying with the notion of submitting a drawing this month, but as Chris set the subject, Soren is back on the scene and Lands is no doubt already in his studio working on another masterpiece..I shall stick to my usual media Great subject! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Chris Foster Posted 8 March , 2008 Author Share Posted 8 March , 2008 Gunboat, There is a vacant lot this month in the artwork section, (I'm not going to be able to enter this month) and its got your name written all over it, dust off that pencil ! & iron out that drawing pad. Chris Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ozzie Posted 8 March , 2008 Share Posted 8 March , 2008 Ok, looks like I am first to post an effort. Don't know if it is on track but here goes. Trench Raid. “Damn and blast this war to hell!” A pair of wire cutters, the cause of this muttered curse, now lay on he ground. Feeling his way in the dark, he had picked up the cutters awkwardly, putting his fingers in the way of their pinching bite, promptly dropping them in his pain. “You right there, mate?” whispered Dave. “What’s your problem?” “Nothing that getting out of this blanky country wouldn’t fix,” Charlie whispered back. His fingers still tingling, Charlie reached down and searched for the offending tool. His hands felt the floor of the trench, the hard wooden duckboards, the cloth of the sandbags, then at last, just as the order came, the wire cutters came into contact with his fingers. Jamming them into the bag that hung from his side, he picked up his rifle, slinging it over his shoulder. Instinctively, his hand went to his side, feeling for his bayonet. A slight sigh escaped his lips, as he touched his most treasured weapon. The chosen men climbed onto the fire step, then up and over, crawling into the lay up possie. Time ticked by as Charlie’s mind played tricks. Surely it had been half an hour since the order came. He shook his head. No, just minutes. Charlie lay with his face pressed to the earth, while above him, stars faded, made dull by the verey lights. The German’s were restless. Spooked. It didn’t matter, the order had been given. The word came. Forward. Each man took advantage of every shell hole, every wretched stump, as they made their way towards the enemy’s wire. The crunch of the cutters, the twang of the wire as it snapped, sounded loud to the ears of the raiding party, but the lack of fire from the German lines gave them hope. The last barricade of barbed wire cut, the men slithered into the enemy’s trench, their presence at last known to the sentries. The hell that Charlie had damned the war to, broke loose. Hearing the sentries warning cries, men came stumbling, rushing from deep dugouts, to be met by bombs, slashing bayonets and rifles fired at point blank. The remains of the sentries were added to, by both friend and foe, as a war for survival fought its way up and down the enemy trenches. As the German’s rushed to defend their trenches, their lives, - their efforts were reduced to nil, by men whose only hope, was to kill, maim, and take prisoner those who stood in their way of returning to the Allied lines. Tearing badges from uniforms, rifling pockets for documents, the men of the raiding party wasted no time in worrying about the wounded enemy. Pausing only to help their own, their object achieved, they carried their wounded mates, dragged them, and pushed them, while struggling to find their own way back to their lines, as the expected enemy artillery rained down about them. Charlie prodded the captured German officer with his bayonet, Charlie’s intent clear. The officer dragged his feet, stumbling over the debris of no-man’s land in the pre dawn light. His patience wearing thin, Charlie lifted his bayonet, aiming it at the officer’s ribs. Blue white lightening ripped through Charlie’s back. He staggered, his legs trembling. From deep in his being, an embryo of searing pain rose through his body, exploding through his lips as a primeval scream. Dropping the bayonet, he tried to reach his shoulder blades, his hands clawing, his mind trying to understand. In a few seconds of sudden absolute clarity, Charlie saw the officer turn to face him. The Officer’s eyes were stretched wide, his mouth open, his face reflecting the horror that Charlie’s mind was desperately trying to push away. Following the stare of the German, Charlie looked down at his own chest. In the seeping light of dawn, Charlie stared at his death wound. Blood, skin, and bone fragments were mixed with the khaki cloth that had once covered his chest, but now hung in tatters. The ground felt soft as he sunk into it, the officer’s hands reaching out too late to save his collapse into the mud. Charlie’s mind fought the fog. He couldn’t breath. Choking, he felt arms lift him, cradle him. Foreign words whispered in his ear. He felt a finger gently wipe the tears from his cheeks, as he wondered why he could not feel anything else. He stared upwards. Blue sky with white mare’s tails shimmered above, a magpie’s warble sung in his mind, the scent of lavender water wafted about him, releasing his fears as darkness descended. The German officer laid the dead man down gently. He bowed his head in acknowledgement and drew his hand slowly across the dead man’s eyes, closing the window of pain. Kim Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Chris Foster Posted 9 March , 2008 Author Share Posted 9 March , 2008 Cracking start Kim !! thats a bench mark if ever I saw one. well done Chris. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Landsturm Posted 9 March , 2008 Share Posted 9 March , 2008 Preparing for a Trench raid: Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Gunboat Posted 12 March , 2008 Share Posted 12 March , 2008 Wonderful Kim and a lovely touch at the end a lovely example of the humanity that can exist even in such trying cirucmstances. Lands I love the use of the coloured paper it really helps create the atmosphere and the use of marker pen and chalk such a perfect choice Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
marina Posted 12 March , 2008 Share Posted 12 March , 2008 Both excellent submissions! Marina Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest soren1916 Posted 12 March , 2008 Share Posted 12 March , 2008 Here's mine! Britisher trench raider: http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/passchendael...918083939690210 Soren Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest soren1916 Posted 12 March , 2008 Share Posted 12 March , 2008 It's quite a big one A1 ohh errr mrs! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Chris Foster Posted 13 March , 2008 Author Share Posted 13 March , 2008 Good work Lands the blue background works well with the composition. Soren once again Good work ! Where are the Writers and Poets ? Your MGWAT Needs You. Regards Chris Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
squirrel Posted 13 March , 2008 Share Posted 13 March , 2008 I've thunk without trace. Spent a few hours on trying to come up with something, edited it, rewrote it and edited it again but it was still rubbish. Have to have a rest and try again later in the month. Good entries so far though. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Michael Johnson Posted 13 March , 2008 Share Posted 13 March , 2008 Apart from trying to strip a living room of wallpaper - inch by bloody inch, I too am having some difficulty trying to put together a submission. One or two ideas, but nothing that has gelled yet. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Gunboat Posted 14 March , 2008 Share Posted 14 March , 2008 Beautiful Soren.... I have handwritten something just need to type up.... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Michael Johnson Posted 14 March , 2008 Share Posted 14 March , 2008 Okay, here's mine. It's more of a snapshot than a story: In the faint light of the new moon we walk like men in dreams across the wreckage of No Man's Land, trying to simultaneously watch ahead and at our feet for anything that might trip us, or cause noise if kicked. Our ears strain for any foreign sound. The drumbeats we ignore - just our hearts. I think back to playing "Freeze" with my nephews. Treading softly across the floor, eyes fixed on the one who was "It". Trying to judge when he would whirl around and catch someone in mid-stride, and the boyish screams when he did. Tonight the screams will be deadlier if we are caught. We have been inching our way across the battlefield for three hours now. I know that it is three hours, even if my watch says twenty minutes. Time is different in No Man's Land. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Gunboat Posted 14 March , 2008 Share Posted 14 March , 2008 Lovely prose piece Michael...wonderful Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
marina Posted 14 March , 2008 Share Posted 14 March , 2008 Short but very effective, Michael. Loved the 'time is different' sentence. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ozzie Posted 15 March , 2008 Share Posted 15 March , 2008 Sorn and Lands, you have both captured the soldier on a mission. Micheal, great thoughts and reflections. Cheers Kim Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Gongie Posted 20 March , 2008 Share Posted 20 March , 2008 Hi, This is my first time submitting any of my art to the site. The sketch depicts a raid against an enemy listening post at Commons Crater (Vimy Ridge) on December 8th 1916. My great uncle is the figure peering over the lip of the crater/parapet. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Gunboat Posted 20 March , 2008 Share Posted 20 March , 2008 Welcome to MGWAT and congratulatons on your first entry and what a great start. You have both captured the mood,atmosphere and tense anticipation in the way you have positioned the figures. The fact that you have portrayed a real event that one of your relatives was involved in makes it even more moving. Great stuff look forward to your future postings Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ozzie Posted 20 March , 2008 Share Posted 20 March , 2008 I agree with Gunboat, great start and Welcome to to GMWAT Cheers Kim Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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