Creative Writing: My First Vietnam War

When I first got put in the challenge program I was very scared. I only knew a handful of people and I didn’t know if it was the best fit for me. However, the past 4 years have proven me wrong. I would have been bored and in challenge when you have teachers like Mrs. Miller and Mrs. Hill, you wonder why you questioned yourself.

Hi Mom! Hope you're doing well. I'm sorry that I haven't been writing to you in a while, things have just been pretty hectic here. None of us have been getting any sleep around here because we are all stuck in these trenches and are always on guard. Every morning, we'd get up and look around. We always have to stay in the trenches unless our "leader" yelled "Over the top", which means the call to attack.

As I rose from bed, I could hear my wife starting to make breakfast. Today was going to be quite a day, mainly due to a fast coming winter and the need to harvest the squash and corn was increasing each day. I proceeded to change into my work attire and brown maroon felt hat I had bought myself last week. I walked out of my room and went into the main room where I had my breakfast every morning. I walked over to the table and sat in a hand carved chair made by the finest carpenter in Saybrook where my porridge awaited me. After sitting down at the table with my two sons and wife, I blessed our porridge and had my younger son read a Bible verse. Reading the Bible is a crucial part of being a Puritan since if one could not read the Bible they

At some point, their ears had finally given in to the echoing shots and yells and had dulled to the point where they could barely hear anything at all. The students - cut, bruised and bloodied - lay upon the ground. Dead or hiding. Hoping for mercy, for that’s all they had left to hope for.

Hello, this is Kelsey Maley reporting from a battlefield in France during spring of 1914. As you can most likely hear, the battle is booming behind us. The gunshots and cannon fires can be heard from miles away. From where I am standing one can also hear the cries and screams, and running horse hooves from the war below. Looking down we can see the khaki and grey uniforms either riding horses or hiding in trenches and with guns or swords. It is hard to concentrate on these men in uniforms because of the dirt and smoke covering the air around them. Walking up here is difficult because of the bumps in the ground. One may be able to feel the rumbling and shaking ground every time a cannon is fired. Each side is obeying the screams from their comandor

I see a small sedan driving into this old school that looks recently abandoned. “The suspect seems suspicious by staying in the vehicle after it has been turned off”, I write in my small booklet. I hope this isn’t just an affair, if this is I’m going to punch that mother… The suspect has gotten out of the car he appears to be a white male, no women got out of the car, he then walks inside. I leave my car and follow behind him.

The thought of the defeat screen plagued my mind. It took over all other emotion and drowned out even my extremely heavy breathing. Panic and doom rode their dark chariots led by the mares of carnage over the chaos in my mind. This was it. I attempted diverting from thoughts of the devastatingly disturbing gameplay on my screen to something positive. As the enemy team led by Lux charged the mid-lane, my mind raced to find something to improve my decaying self-esteem. I watched their tank, Darius, absorbing the little resistance provided by the last of the crumbling turrets. Fixating my glance on my re-spawn time I stretched my fingers in anticipation. A game plan was beginning to form in my mind. Eight lengthy seconds passed as I waited in

I write to you today from a hospital bed in France. I know that may sound bad, but truly I am one of the lucky ones. I have lost so many friends in this past battle. I am sure you have probably heard news of this back home in England already. The first day of the battle on the Somme was a dark day indeed. I have heard it word here that it could have been one of the bloodiest battles to date. I do not even know how to begin describing the war, but I have to describe it to someone. I would never want to tell my parents of these horrors I am facing; it would be far too much for them to bear. You are my closest friend back home, and I know if it were not for your health issues, you would be here fighting too, so I feel I can tell you about all this. I know I volunteered for this, but I never in a million years could have predicted what war would truly be like. Looking back on it though, we are truly lucky that Britain is a country that relies on volunteer

I was stricken down by a poisoned cow and left my family on October 5, 1818. I have chosen to roam as an apparition to watch over my son, Abraham, as a shadow he unaware of. All phantoms appear differently as each has a different reason to roam. Those that need to remind the living of the past will appear as how they died. I am only a spectator so I need not appear at all. I simply wanted to see what happened to my son after I died too young. However, my country is changing and my boy is at the front of war.

Both local newspapers began to signal, albeit discretely, that war could be approaching its end. Reports spoke in guarded terms about German difficulties and in the ‘Letters to the Editor’ columns, there were encouraging words, leaving readers in no doubt that a resolution was close. Talk in shops and at church services built on the speculation. When news of the imminent German surrender reached soldiers in the front line it was greeted with silence. ‘We did not cheer,’ one soldier recalled. ‘We just stood, stunned and bewildered.’ He continued: ‘On the stroke of 11a.m. the CO raised his hand and told us that the war was over. Then we cheered, with our tin hats on and our rifles held aloft. For old hands like me, it was funny realising that the day we had waited so long for had come at

It was 5 am in the morning and I was flying over the Persian Gulf, I was exhausted from the 18 hour flight from Virginia. All I wanted to do was sleep, but the vast amount of emotions I had swirling around in my body kept me in a trance state. Scared because this was my first time in the Middle East and excited to finally see something new, it was a bittersweet moment for me. Finally we landed, Excited to feel my legs again, I rushed towards the front of the plane, only to feel like someone was holding a perpetual blow dryer and LED light to my face. And at that moment, I knew I had arrived in Qatar --- what has the military gotten me into?

Are both of you doing fine? I miss you all so much. It's been a month since I've written a letter for both of you. Sorry for making you guys waited for so long. The Battle of Vimy Ridge ended a few days ago, and I am glad I got the chance to write a letter for both of you. As I mentioned in the previous letter, I was hired by Canada to be the war artist. I was excited at the moment when I was told to do so, but my feeling faded during the real battle. This was the most intense battle that I had ever seen in my whole life. I was frightened and feel like escaping during the battle because I do not want to sacrifice my life.Constant shelling of the lines was a daily part of my life. Bombs, Bullets and dead body were surrounded me. Some of the

Overview: On the night of July 4th 2026, the unthinkable happened. The North crossed over the border to the South, and the war among the Koreans has begun. The second the North crossed over the border all hands were on deck. Here in Allendale, California the news struck hard, in the military barracks all had become havoc, for the worst that was imagined had begun.

The world turned to into a battle zone, the death toll was around five billion. The war lasted for ten years.”She lays pictures on the table. They're yellowed and worn. Their depiction’s showing horrid things: women, children, and men hiding under debris, and the remnants of buildings, their eyes wide with fear. Colossal building reduced to rubble and ash. Deep trenches dividing the land, men with huge guns by their sides. Worst of all, the amount of dead bodies strewn over the imploding streets, like glitter thrown in the air. How could people do that, and feel justified? “The aftermath was disastrous.” She says, “ Cities that were once thriving, cultural centers, were now piles of glass, brick, cement, and crumbling ruins. The land that was

I swallow hard, “Mark,” I say, straining to keep my voice even, “don’t you think…” My voice trails off, at a sudden noise coming from the front gate of the harbor.