The sirens are ringing in my ears. My eyes are fuzzy and blurry. Hands are shacking uncontrollable. My life flashed before my eyes. Where am I? What happened to me? Did I get shot? It’s 12th October 1917 and I’m saying goodbye to an amazing life experience. I will forever remember the chaps I met in World War 1.
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Hi, I’m Michael Bergin and I was born on Monday, 18th August 1879, in Roscrea, Tipperary Ireland. I grew up with my family that consist of my mother, Mary Hill and my father, Michael Bergin also my brother, John Bergin. In 1907 I went to Hastings, England to complete my theology studies that I have been studding and then made priest on 24th August 2010. After a brake I returned to the Middle East in January 1914. Therefore, I am Roman Catholic I was in charge of Catholic schools close to Damascus until World War 1; in addition, with other foreigners in Syria, I was imprisoned and then later expelled by the Turkish government. I got enlistment in Toowoomba, Queensland on the 5th, October 1915, at the age of 35 and established to World War 1. My service number is CHAP 818. I am 5ft 10 inches, I weigh 147lbs, my chest is currently 34-36 inches with blue and fair coloured hair. …show more content…
I pray that I could last just one more day without getting shot or getting a nasty disease. Diseases are one of the biggest killers for us chaps because there are not many doctors around let alone doctors that have the right cure. Around 2 million people have died from diseases and I’m thankful that I’m not one of them. The trench life is horrendously unclean and unsanitary. The living conditions are smelly, full of diseases, we don’t get much sleep, starvation and its heart breaking to see us loosing precious members each day. We are living in fear, but I am a determined man and trying to be courageous and brave to fight as hard as I can for my amazing