creative writing Flashcards
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The day of the enlistment test arrived. The day was gloomy and dark, just like every other day. There was a line leading all the way down the street and around the corner. As I walked down the line, there was talk about the new regiment the army was forming. It was rumoured to be a submarine regiment. I was confused since submarines were known to be useless in war, with open pipes and being very cramped. They were not able to take prisoners on board and could not hold enough soldiers to be worth using as transport. They were simply useless means of transportation. We talked for a while and crept closer and closer to the recruitment door. The thought of the submarine division lingered in my mind.
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As I entered the room and started filling out the form, I was about to tick “normal infantry soldier,” but I changed my mind at the last second and ticked the “submarine division.” When I got home, I could not sleep at all. A week later, I received a letter saying I had been chosen for the role. So, there I was, a sailor on a U-Boat, patrolling the Atlantic waters for enemy ships. Our mission was to attack any ship that carried supplies or troops for the Allied forces. We had been at sea for weeks, and morale was low. We were exhausted, hungry, and homesick. But we knew that we had a duty to fulfil.
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The moon veiled itself behind a tapestry of thick, ominous clouds, casting an inky darkness upon the restless sea. We spotted a ship on the horizon. As the submarine silently cut through the obsidian waters, raindrops traced delicate patterns on the metal surface. The night held its breath, conspiring with the clandestine mission beneath the tempestuous sky. We knew it was an American vessel, and we were determined to attack it. We had dived deep and waited for the right moment. After hours of waiting in silence, the moment finally arrived. We surfaced and saw the ship in the distance. It was a large commercial vessel, and it looked vulnerable. The crew on deck were going about their business, completely unaware of the danger that was approaching. Silent as shadows in the depths, the submarine unleashed its aquatic arrows, torpedoes danced like vengeful serpents through the dark embrace of the ocean, poised to strike with a lethal grace. The torpedoes hit their target, and the ship exploded in a ball of fire. The sound was deafening, and the shockwave nearly knocked me off my feet.
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The once-proud American vessel danced in the abyss as a vengeful torpedo embraced it in a deadly waltz. The ship’s hull, a wounded giant, wept rivulets of despair, succumbing to the relentless pull of the ocean’s dark embrace. The crew was panicking, trying to launch the lifeboats as quickly as possible. We could see the fear in their eyes, and it made us feel powerful. We approached the lifeboats, and I could see the terror on the crew’s faces as we ordered them to surrender. They had no choice but to comply. Amidst the murky waters, the American prisoners of war slid into the U-boat’s belly like shadows seeking refuge in the belly of a Leviathan. Their hopes clung to the submarine’s steel embrace, a desperate choice between captivity and the depths. They were scared and disoriented, but we treated them with respect.
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As we watched the ship sinking, I feel a sense of satisfaction. We had done our job, and we had done it well. But as the adrenaline wore off, doubts began to creep into my mind. Was it really necessary to attack that ship? Were we justified in taking innocent lives? I had always believed that we were fighting for a righteous cause, but now I was not so sure. We brought the crew back to our base in Germany and handed them over to the authorities. They are sent to a prison camp, where they spent the rest of the war. We never heard from them again.
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As a German sailor, I knew that what we did was necessary for our cause. We were fighting for our country, and we had to do whatever it took to win the war. But I also knew that the crew of that American ship were just like us. They were ordinary men, doing their jobs and trying to stay alive. The war changed everything for us. It forced us to do things that we never thought we were capable of. It made us see our enemies as less than human.
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As I returned to my bunk, the weight of decisions made on the battlefield pressed upon my chest like an oppressive darkness, leaving me entangled in the thorny vines of remorse. The echoes of faces, both fallen comrades and adversaries, play a melancholic symphony in my sleepless nights, a vivid reminder of the choices that branded my soul with indelible scars. Sleep, an elusive sanctuary, slipped through my fingers, leaving me alone with the ghosts of my actions. But I know that I must keep those doubts to myself. Any sign of weakness or dissent could lead to punishment or even death. So, I kept quiet and continued to do my duty, hoping that one day, the war would end, and we could all go back to our normal lives.
