Creative Writing: The Silence Of Horses
Moreover, “They carried all the emotional baggage of men who might die. Grief, terror love longing… They carried the soldier's greatest fear, which was the fear of blushing,” (O’brien 20). With this in mind, O’brien creates a plot in the beginning of what these men in war had to experience and mentally prepare for to see others hurt
Throughout Ambrose’s Western tale, one can see the admiration and respect that he may have for the military. Through his words, it can be inferred that he holds not only the sense of togetherness in high regard, but also everything that the Military entails. The author shows his audience what life is like for a soldier rather than telling them. Thousands of lives have been changed and even lost throughout the story, which goes to show the reality of what one may face every day while in combat; your best friend could be fighting beside you one day, and then gone the
The author brings up how everyone must appear, especially men. He describes how men must leave their wives and families to go to war. Men
“Our clothes were to be thrown on the floor at the back of the barrack. There was a pile there already. New suits, old ones, torn overcoats, rags.” (35) And: “Their clippers tore our hair, shaved every hair on our bodies. My head was buzzing;” (35).
The man looked onto the battlefield close and far as the dirt landed and slid off his face the sound of bombs were muffled the cries of men were sharp and penetrating he stood over the breech with such comfort while a hundred thousand fear riddled eyes stared from behind he turned his face deep wrickled and rugged filthy his eyes with dark bags underneath from nights with no sleep but the faces he saw were much different men no more than 30 with their whole lives maybe not even 10 minutes ahead of them he's seen it a hundred times before he knew these men were divided they were there together but they were going in it alone with this in mind the man stared back and spoke "At the edge of our hope... At the end of our time... WE CHOOSE TO BELIEVE
Through thundering guns and cannon fire; you can hear the helpless cries of the abandoned, wounded soldiers or bold attackers, storming and laughing in the face of death. Some men prayed, while others pleaded. Some men held pictures or mementos; of longed sweethearts and family before carefully tucking them away inside of their jackets, for some of their loved ones, will never be seen again
Silk coats with brass buttons gleamed in the summer sun. Gaudy colors flashed in the volunteer firemen's parade The bright red and yellow felt pressed hats like poppies and daisies in a field, each painted with elaborate insignias and company emblems. I had not seen such a pageant since the war began, when fresh faced young boys marched out to defend the Union. Some returned men, hardened and roughed by conflict, if they returned at all. Oswald, my husband, stood at my side and complained loudly about the volunteer firefighters.
The devastation behind the soldier stood on the edge of his mind, but nevertheless was not in his thoughts. The man standing in front of him dominated his thoughts and instigated a war deep within the soldier. The man was plain on all accounts; he was middle-aged, wore glasses, had a receding hairline, but his image was now stained in the soldier’s memory. This man merely wanted to get by, most likely to confirm the death of a loved one, but no matter how many times the soldier thought about it, he would never know exactly why. The only knowledge that burdened the soldier was his duty, and his duty was to keep this man at bay.
Dear Mother, It’s has been indisputable here in the trenches, I’m in dire need of new socks. The doctors say they might have to amputate my foot if my trench foot gets any worse. Also if you could provide me with some next time you send me a package I would be beholden to you. In addition to the already gruesome situation, the rats have begun to eat the dead in no man’s land, and steal my bread when I’m not looking.
That was during the hour that I was the most confused and mixed the real deaths of the soldiers with that of an imaginary private. He died in a story about WWI. Thirty-six years have passed since I stood in that darkness, which was mitigated by an outside light. Tonight, I remember the silence I shared with the dead. I rise and face my life for no other reason than I was young once like those I stood guard over, and for them who died for God knows what, I wish to give back the year 1971 along with the clouds, the rain, and the dampness, soaking my boots.
The first step was followed by the last step in succession, not a hint of hesitation in his walk. Both feet were planted at the entrance of the train as quickly as they had been in the station. He had walked passed couples having their last embrace, mothers and daughters sharing a tearful goodbye, and siblings promising that the other would return home safe. The heavy atmosphere was hard to ignore, yet his own attitude shared no part in the matter. Despite the grim reality that lay in front of him, he couldn’t consider himself the black sheep.
Signing up to become a soldier It was around the time in the U.S.A for soldiers to start signing up to become men and go into war. This time I was signing up I was young when WW1 was around at least that is over. But now it is the start of a new world war and it is going to be WW2. My friends said they would be here does not look like it.
I saluted back the same way, looking over the mule train that was lined up in a row on the grass beside the dirt road. The Wolves stood at easy by their animals, just passed the city’s checkpoint. Indeed, the last curtain wall entrance wasn’t as busy as I’d of expected for this time of day. Only a few farm wagons were at the check point, making me realize how much the city depended on its maritime trade. I didn’t care for the impatient looks that stared at me from the Count’s mounted escort, which had stopped behind his carriage, blocking the gate with their black stallions.
My friends and co-workers have always told me that I was a “natural born leader” and just when I’ve begun to digest that I now have a “style” to go along with those skills. Finding out ones strengths and weakness is not always the easiest thing to swallow. At my age, I’ve spent years focusing on what I’m not, but now I can see who I am thanks to the Strengths Finder 2.0 and Gallup. (Gallup, 2007).
The next day, my companions and I were hunting in the woods when we heard loud screams from afar. When we got to the source of the screams, British troops, along with Colonel Munro ‘s two daughters, Cora and Alice, had been
More about Creative Writing: The Silence Of Horses
Summary Of Tim O Brien's The Things They Carried
1000 Words | 4 PagesStephen E. Ambrose's Brotherhood In The Battlefield
459 Words | 2 PagesAmerican Revolution Dbq Essay
606 Words | 3 PagesExamples Of Dehumanization In Night By Elie Wiesel
1079 Words | 5 PagesCreative Writing: All Quiet On The Western Front
171 Words | 1 PagesCreative Writing: All Quiet On The Western Front
392 Words | 2 PagesCreative Writing: All Quiet On The Western Front
301 Words | 2 PagesCreative Writing: All Quiet On The Western Front
275 Words | 2 PagesCreative Writing: All Quiet On The Western Front
199 Words | 1 PagesCreative Writing: All Quiet On The Western Front
184 Words | 1 PagesCreative Writing: All Quiet On The Western Front
504 Words | 3 PagesCreative Writing: All Quiet On The Western Front
950 Words | 4 PagesCreative Writing: The Wolves
1001 Words | 5 PagesTop 5 Themes Of My Strengths
1145 Words | 5 PagesPersonal Narrative: Life On The Frontier
845 Words | 4 Pages