“How to Tell a True War Story” If you died today, who would remember you tomorrow? A true war story is not meant to be told about war and the perpetual series of events that happened in Vietnam. It’s about the special way the main character Rat Kiley in Tim O’Brien’s short story , “How to Tell a True War Story” faced the loss of his friend Curt Lemon. It’s a story about how Rat Kiley’s troop mates also witnessed the horrific beauty war constructs, but mostly it’s about how war doesn’t have a true story the ending is a mystery filled with infinite possibilities.
Growing up in Iraq in the era between the gulf war, Iran war, and Iraq war with the United state was a challenge for me, but it was not harder challenge than all what my parents went through to keep me and my siblings safe and sound. My mother is one of the strongest people that I have came cross in my life. She was and still the best mother, teacher, and my best friend. She graduated from Al Mosul University in Iraq as a Mechanical Engineer. Being a daughter of graduated mother will always push me to complete my education and go even further to earn my master degree too.
The war had dragged on for longer than anyone could have imagined. Damage on the Western Front. Millions dead. Food rations significantly reduced. Again.
When we were told that the war started, I was right at the border. Of course, we were not sure whether we would survive or not. We knew we had to fight for real. We believed in Communist ideas. We had it with our mother’s milk.
Once I got out of the medical tent, the month had almost passed and the trenches were fairly calm with the ending a year of fighting. The blighters just sat around in a quite lazy fashion, shaving their mustaches and greedily scarfing down the remains of their insufficient portions. It was a fairly quiet time compared to earlier incidents and episodes in the war. I was groggy and tired when I stepped back into the trenches, and even with many months of laying still in the hospital tent, my body and mind were still not replenished and in quite awful condition. The very strong medication the doctor had put me on did not help my grogginess in any way.
Brock looked up in the sky, the sun seemed an odd color, a little more reddish than he was used to. It was also later in the day here than it had been on Earth, judging by the position of the sun it was close to noon here. They were in a large clearing in a forested area, some of the trees looked familiar, but there were many that did not, some of them were very alien colors, with strangely shaped leaves, odd barks and impossibly twisted branches and trunks. At first no sounds came from the forest, the animal life no doubt shocked into silence by the whump and the concussion blast when the two worlds parted ways after their brief interspersion. Slowly the living creatures resumed their normal existence and eerie sounds never heard on the Earth
The bloody hands of freedom Fear, hunger, illness were all horrid feelings I felt, but there is a small glimpse of hope and passion that might get me through the hard times. We stood our ground and when I thought we had given up, the French came on April 13,1778. I was not going to become a summer soldier but yet after a 2 year of enlistment some of my brothers deserted us. I have decided to re-enlist for three reason which knowing that the war is going to be hard but I am going to fight, my pride for my country, and love and passion.
The horrible rumbling of the ground started again. I couldn’t look. It gave me distance from my heart and soul, whilst the soviets struck back with old-time Stalinist savagery. The entirety of the Hungarian army was encircled by a sea of red. Tears began to stream down my cheeks.
A Horrible Man When you become a doctor you take an oath to help people, but Dr. Mengele wasn’t like other doctors, he was the opposite. He was the one who picked out the people to go to the gas chambers. He also did horrible experiments on his “patients.” They usually died from then and if they didn’t die then he would kill them. Joseph Mengele did many terrible things.
It’s been awhile since I’ve written to you, my dear sister, and I suppose it’s my fault for not being able to keep up with writing. However, it is a little depressing about the bigger reason I wasn’t able to write to you. You must be worried sick, Lucina, but there’s no need to be worried about me! We both know that I can handle myself just fine in any situation, it’s what I was trained for, anyway. Anyway, aside from the babbling, I’m currently in Marne, and we were advancing, until the French and British stopped us.
The men described hours of waiting and crawling along trenches. When the firing began, one can only pray that nobody got hit.
Imagine… falling off a boat and being alone on an island, except you’re not actually alone. Well this happened to Sanger Rainsford. Richard Connell’s short story, “The Most Dangerous Game” shows how sense of suspense leads to the literal meaning of “The Most Dangerous Game.” Richard Connell creates suspense by introducing detail slowly. In the beginning of the story Rainsford repeatedly tries to get the general to tell him what kind of game he hunts.
Why Is Telling A True War Story Hard Lots of stories are hard to comprehend because they’re more brutal and traumatic for listeners, even the story-teller. In three stories: “The Man I Killed”, “How To Tell A True War Story”, and “Speaking of Courage”, Tim O’Brien showed how changing certain parts of a story and making them graceful, can make them easier to comprehend. However sometimes telling the story the way it was makes it brutal and gruesome, though some listeners prefer that over gracefulness.
There I laid on the hard and rigid mattress, in a room so cold and damp that you could hear water dripping continuously out of the battered and rusty pipe. As the young guard approached my cell, slightly vigorously threw a ration through my cell hatch. “время есть! (Time to eat!)” lilted the guard. Rations are military made for soldiers on the battlefield and are specially made foods inside the ration pack that can last for days on end.
It took 250$ and good deeds to create some doctor like me. Growing up I was the kid who looked at the world with open optimistic eyes. I grew up in a small city called Dora located in Iraq, the middle of three girls. I was born in the late 90s, I have been told that I was born "at the end of the good days". That's when Iraq's political circumstances were not at peace at all, at 2003 another war broke in Iraq.
