Death of an Airman - Original Writing
I crawled frantically underneath the deck, desperately hunting for
that last fuel tank, that might keep us airborne for a few more hours.
"Its too late!" screamed one of the pilots, "we'll have to make an
emergency landing"
"NO" I cried, "there must be some more fuel". More trying to repress
my own fears than anything else; only the reassuring sound of the
engine kept me straining to find some way to save us. The sound of
silence swept the plane, my heart skipped a beat as I heard the engine
expire.
All thought left me as I sat underneath the deck, hardly daring to
believe what was happening. Overhead I could hear the desperate,
panic-stricken horror of my co-pilots and friends as they struggled to
keep the plane under control, but all was lost, and our flight was cut
down as we plummeted into foreign lands. And to death.
I was brought back into consciousness by the severe pain that wracked
my body, I attempted to move and let out a cry as I felt metal sear
through my flesh. My body was all but encased, and every movement I
made would make the already intrusive metal pierce my wounds deeper,
the only light I could see was from the crevice that had split open
above my head. I don't know how long I laid there. Slowly going in and
out of consciousness until the harsh coldness of winter rain pelted my
face. It was only then that I managed to regain sense, and finally
realise what was happening. I called out to my comrades, but no reply
came. I knew they were dead but refused to believe it, although the
distinctive smell of blood, and decaying corpses was already making me
retch and vom...
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... nearly was imprisoned for it. I had lost all concept of time, but
reckoned that I must have been there for at least a day, although I
had been in and out of consciousness so I wasn't entirely certain.
As I was dreaming of my family and my homeland I heard a voice, it
sounded like one of the woman I heard earlier, this time I did not try
to move, but attempted to call for help in the small amount of the
English language I knew. I knew what I wanted to say, but all that
came through my parched lips was a faint murmur. This was insufficient
to attract the woman, and after a while, I heard her footsteps fade
away and I fell into despair again.
As the hours went the last reserves of my strength were gradually
taken away I could hear my wife's voice calling to me, until my mind
left me and I was engulfed in darkness.
head, to the right shoulder, all the way down to the right part of the
“The death of the ball turret gunner” “The poem Death of the ball turret gunner” by Randall Jarrell describes the life of a World War Two ball turret gunner, on his mission of protecting his B-17 while on it is on an air raid, bombing Germany. Jarrell somehow shows, in vivid detail, how harsh and unforgiving war is, and the sheer courage and resolve of what has now become known, as the greatest generation in only five lines. (Gale) Jarrell also shows us, that the men fighting on both sides are in a way innocent, much like children, who have been taken from their sleeping mothers, and forced to go to war, and face its horrors and possibly death. Bassett.
to such a fate. I tell no one of this dream but I conclude that it is
there dream why can't I. It showed me that it does not matter were you come from or what you
A common definition of dreams according to “Patterns for College Writing” is “the symbolic representation of mental states”, but this sparse definition does not begin to encompass the complex mechanisms behind dreams and its effects on human culture around the globe. Dreams have long been the topics of folklore and urban legends. Since human beginnings, people have sought to uncover the origin of dreams. The ancient Greeks believed dreams came from the God Oneiroi. The Chinese believes that dreams happened when the hun or spirit leaves the body for the land of the dead. The Ishi Indians believed that dreams were sacred messages from the Gods. Yet even now, with the current technological and intellectual advancements, scientists and psychoanalysts have still to find the true reasons and meanings of these dreams. Some argue that dreams are the products of overactive subconscious minds while others argue that dreams are solely randomized emotions from the limbic system during sleep. Despite these contrasting theories, the truth of the matter is that the topic of dreams and the reasons behind them remain a mystery.
This book is a collection of information about dreams, ranging from folklore and ancient beliefs to current scientific research. The thoughts of dozens, perhaps even hundreds of philosophers, researchers, and other dreamers are briefly summarized in chronological order, from Plato to Artemidorus, from Erik Erikson to Calvin
dream, a horrid dream, fighting with things. I was outside the shelter by myself, fighting
The voices in my head become a swelling crescendo. I forcefully grab my head in between my hands as the words echo through my skull. Pain pulsates with every word. I squeeze my temples hard with my palms but the pain is unbearable. Clawing at my face, a scream rips through me; sapping every last drop of energy in my body. Like a rag doll, I collapse onto the cold concrete floor as a growing darkness overcomes me.
However, now I was scared, as I was listening to women and babies crying, as I could see my friends bleeding and hurt. What happened? Where was I? At that point, I knew that I was far from home. The white men took us away from our land. We had being expulse from our kingdom, to some other place that we did not know.
eternal dream. It would mean that your body or what you believe to call a
When I stepped into the large neatly organized white polished plane, I never though something would go wrong. I woke up and found myself on an extremely hot bright sunny desert island filled with shiny soft bright green palm trees containing rough bright yellow hard felt juicy apples. The simple strong plane I was in earlier shattered into little pieces of broken glass and metal when crashing onto the wet slimy coffee colored sand and burning with red orange colored flames. After my realization to this heart throbbing incident I began to run pressing my eight inch footsteps into the wet squishy slimy light brown sand looking in every direction with my wide open eyes filled with confusion in search of other survivors. After finding four other survivors we began moving our small petite weak legs fifty inches from the painful incident. Reaching our destination which was a tiny space filled with dark shade blocking the extreme heat coming from the bright blue sky, I felt my eyelids slowly moving down my light colored hazel eyes and found myself in a dream. I was awakened the next day from a grumbling noise coming from my empty stomach.
My hand shaking at every thought, a cold shiver ran down my spine as cold sweat trickled down the side of my forehead. I lifted my hand up and a strong smell hit my nose, it was the smell of blood. I lifted the object and shock hit me like lightening, fear displaced my sadness, sickness changed my bloodstream from blood to a thick liquid pus and vomit. I held the muscle with my right hand as my left hand was paralysed with shock. The adrenaline shot me forcing me to move but shock shattered me into thin slices that were impossible to put back again.
All in all, whether we dream to talk to our ancestors, or just to deal with problems we can’t fix in our waking state one thing is certain; dreams are an important part of our lives. Without dreams the mind and body would surely suffer. Dreams allow a necessary outlet of our darkest fears and frustrations as well as our greatest hopes and wishes. In dreams you can be anything or anyone and if you can interpret your dream correctly you can have in insightful view of your soul. “Dreams unify the body, mind and spirit and provide you with insights about yourself and are a means for self exploration. When you understand your dreams you will have the ability to further understand and discover the true you.”(4)
and I thought I heard my name. Did I hear a voice, or was fear playing
The dream was about a little dog. The dog was walking on my chest, while