I can hardly breathe in these dusty old cement barracks. The light is so bad that I can barely read the math problems the Nazis have assigned us. Only a few more hours until I can quit and go back to Plaszow with the others. For now, I just have to keep working. They’re yelling again outside. Something must have gone wrong. I walk over to the window. Carefully, I look out over the edge, and what I see makes my heart stop: my brother, Friedrich, is being held by that short, mustachioed guard, while the SS commander beats him with a rubber club. My brain is about to explode. Without thinking, I jump out of the window, eight feet off of the ground. I run toward my brother and grab him, freeing him from the guard’s hold. I can only hope that …show more content…
The train is so full of people that I can’t sit down. We hear the American jets above us. Some of us put our striped jackets on the train’s roof to signal to the American fighter jets that we are prisoners. They attack only the engines for a time. Every time an engine blows up the train stops and we wait hours until the replacement comes. *** New jets come. These ignore our jackets and strafe our car. My brother is shot in the leg. The train stops again. This time the long wooden door opens. A tall, skinny soldier yells at us to get out. Others violently drag out the wounded and the dead, my brother among them. Outside, it is cold and bright. I ask a general if I can stay with the wounded, explaining that I’m a doctor. I beg him, but he only laughs and pushes me onward. “The Americans will take care of them, there's nothing to worry about.” He forces me to abandon my brother. *** We start out on foot the next day because the Americans won’t stop shooting the trains. We march all day. That night we are locked in a cold and drafty barn. We have no blankets. We sleep on dusty piles of hay along the south wall. All we are given to eat is rotten bread and little water. During the night I turn in my sleep and scrape my arm on a rusty nail. I dream of the day before when my brother was shot by the Americans on the
It’s hard for civilians to see what veterans had to face and still do even after all is said and done. The rhetorical strategies that contribute to Grady’s success in this article is appealing to the reader’s emotions through the story of Jason Poole. Denise Grady’s “Struggling Back From War’s Once Deadly Wounds” acts as an admonition for the American public and government to find a better way to assist troops to land on their feet post-war. Grady informs the reader on the recent problems risen through advancements in medical technology and how it affected the futures of all the troops sent into the Iraq war.
The first convoy of deported prisoners is kept standing in the middle of the hot c...
In the aftermath of a comparatively minor misfortune, all parties concerned seem to be eager to direct the blame to someone or something else. It seems so easy to pin down one specific mistake that caused everything else to go wrong in an everyday situation. However, war is a vastly different story. War is ambiguous, an enormous and intangible event, and it cannot simply be blamed for the resulting deaths for which it is indirectly responsible. Tim O’Brien’s story, “In the Field,” illustrates whom the soldiers turn to with the massive burden of responsibility for a tragedy. The horrible circumstances of war transform all involved and tinge them with an absurd feeling of personal responsibility as they struggle to cope.
The boys were called out to help shovel free a troop train trapped by snow-blocked tracks. The experience "brings the war home" for all of them, and they realized they would have to face a crucial decision very soon.
N.Cull’s assessment of the film Saving Private Ryan in that it portrays “a realistic depiction of the lives and deaths of G.I’s in the European theatre in World War II” is an accurate one. Director Stephen Spielberg brings to the audience the “sheer madness of war” and the “search for decency” within it. That search ends for a group of soldiers whose mission it is too save Private Ryan. Although the film shows horrific and realistic battle scenes along with historically correct settings and situations with weapons and injuries true to their time, the film’s portrayal of war goes a lot deeper than that. The expressions and feelings of soldiers along with their morals and ideology are depicted unifyingly with the horror of war. The lives and deaths of American soldiers in the immediate part of the invasion of Normandy are illustrated more realistically than ever before. Saving Private Ryan captures the “harsh reality of war as authentically as possible”.
Grady, Denise. "Struggling Back from War’s Once-Deadly Wounds." Ed. Andrea A. Lunsford and John J. Ruszkiewicz. The Presence of Others: Voices and Images That Call for
The rest of the day I scanned the crowd of Indians as I switched position with other soldiers. When the cool blanket of night covered the sky, I had first watch. There wasn’t really a need for other soldiers to keep watch because all of the Indians by now were to frail and broken to run away. But I guess there was always a chance of a wolf or other kind other predator taking away a baby or dog or something. I kept watch most of the night until finally, someone came and relieved me from my duty. That night I had a strange dream, I was at home with my wife and we were cooking dinner together, then as I walked over to grab a plate from out of the pantry when I looked out the window and saw Onacona staring at me. It gave me chill and sure enough when I jolted up from dream, Onacona was staring at me with his hollow stare. I screamed a little bit but no one cared. I guess everyone was use to screaming of people by now. This went on for two days now. I would have a weird dream then wake up to Onacona. But I still looked for his parents. And when I was looking for his parents I reflected on why I was so quick to choose this job. Why I thought it would have been a good idea to leave my wife and try to help the Indians was beyond me because clearly we weren’t helping them enough. People would die every day on the trail, and even more will die at the reservation. But that night when everyone was setting up camp I
Bullets flying through the air right over me, my knees are shaking, and my feet are numb. I see familiar faces all around me dodging the explosives illuminating the air like lightning. Unfortunately, numerous familiar faces seem to disappear into the trenches. I try to run from the noise, but my mind keeps causing me to re-illustrate the painful memories left behind.
I could smell the aroma of death I was separated from my family and I felt like a caged animal so as I look around to try to find a familiar face over the millions of prisoners I could see gloomy frowns of sorrow from the torture their receiving I feel death as they push me through the room feeding me bread crumbs sending me to a small wooden pallet as a bed. Every step I take into this small room I feel death coming closer and closer everyday only to look over and see a room a room filled with gases that when my people come out choking they hit the floor and die right before me. A man tells me I’m located at the Dachau concentration camp and to get ready to go to the field to work. Just as I am confused on where my family is I am confused on if the United States realizes us or not but I hope that someday they would and come rescue us from these
“We are under attack!” Jimmy, our patrol man, yells leaping for the trench. A bullet pierces his skull before hits the ground leaving his body lifeless and bloody at my feet.
One of the worst things about war is the severity of carnage that it bestows upon mankind. Men are killed by the millions in the worst ways imaginable. Bodies are blown apart, limbs are cracked and torn and flesh is melted away from the bone. Dying eyes watch as internal organs are spilled of empty cavities, naked torso are hung in trees and men are forced to run on stumps when their feet are blown off. Along with the horrific deaths that accompany war, the injuries often outnumber dead men. As Paul Baumer witnessed in the hospital, the injuries were terrifying and often led to death. His turmoil is expressed in the lines, “Day after day goes by with pain and fear, groans and death gurgles. Even the death room I no use anymore; it is too small.” The men who make it through the war take with them mental and physical scarification from their experiences.
Joseph, who was still feeling rather ill sat and clapped his hands and coughed twice. And Anna smiled happily and dropped her pen and declared, "I can't believe that we've survived in your basement for so long. It will be such a pleasure to feel the sunshine on my shoulders again." Then she stood up and began to twirl around, and around. Midway through her third twirl a violent tremor tossed her to the floor. Then there was another shake and a loud crash as a squad of German soldiers kicked in the front door. Once the soldiers were in they marched around in their black boots making a click clack sound on the wood floors as they searched everywhere. Everyone held their breath and listened as the soldiers opened squeaky doors and then slammed them shut, door after door until finally they entered into the tiny room, casting a shadow across the group of five that were huddled closely together. Four were on their feet and other remained seated. The tall SS officer who was in charge smiled at them displaying his yellowed teeth and mocked, "We are making merriment yes?" Then he pointed to them squinting his devious hate filled blue eyes and demanded, "What are your names?" Everyone gave their name and he frowned at Joseph and through clenched teeth snickered, "You come with me!"
The world’s reaction over the holocaust was unforgettable. They weren’t planning on ever forgetting about this huge tragedy that happened back in 1944. When the world seen photographs on what happened during the Holocaust they were unhappy, but they didn’t want to repeat this all over again, so they weren’t going to do anything. The skeletons stacked up in a huge pile of hundreds and thousands, some were still living, but no one knew how this ended up happening. Why did this government let this happen, if the allies knew that this was going on than none of this would have ever happened, because they were going to put it to a stop, but unfortunately none of our allies knew that this was going on so no one could have stopped it.
"Nancy. Shelly." Names being said one after another, it felt like a lot more names were said than twenty. As every name is called a slight bit of relief is released when I realize it is not mine. Everyone who was called walked to the solider and stopped directly behind him. The German solider pauses. I thought he was done calling names, but a break in the silence I hear my name, "Willimina Berg." My heart drops. My mother doesn't do anything. At this point I don't think my presence mattered to her anymore. So I walk to the solider without saying a word to my mother. I was the last name called and everyone else was sent to their rooms. We were given a few blankets to share and slept on the floor till the morning when we will begin our march for the search of the unknown. "Morning. The day is starting now. We will begin our march in an hour. Be ready to go at the gates in forty-five minutes" said the German Solider. Grabbing a blanket, and a slice of bread I exit the food haul. I'm the first to the gate. Through the fence I can see the women I used to share a room with working, but I do not see my
The soldiers were not forced to walk the entire journey. At one point, they were stuffed into 1918 model railroad boxcars, which were 40 by 8 in size. There were over 100 men in each car. There was ...