Emma Schrader

The storm clouds were dark, gloomy and grim like a graveyard. They were near the surface of the earth. It was going to rain. They were lingering on. The soldiers’ uniforms were repeatedly buffeted by the howling gale. The sky was as black as a devil’s soul. A large boom echoed across the crimson battlefield as the lighting returned the thunder’s call. Endless calls for help could be heard. Then, the rain started pouring down, filling up the battle field, like a flood, as the constant sound of the rain pounding on the metal could be heard. Heavy boots pressed down on the wet mud, which would not be dry for the next week, due to the trenches. The trenches were six-foot-deep and reeked of dead bodies and human excrement.

Through this first incident, Jeanette’s mother, Rose Mary, encouragingly said, “Good for you. You‘ve got to get right back into the saddle. You can’t live in fear of something as basic as fire” (Walls 9). Soon then, Walls became “fascinated with it” (Walls 9) as she passed her finger through a candle flame, slowing her finger with each pass, watching the way it seemed to cut the flame in half.

Emma Melinda Malden Walker Maddox was born in 1870 in Strawberry Plains, Tennessee. She only lived to 1942 at the age of 72. She did a lot of great things in her seventy-two years of life as an African-American women and her legacy still lives on. As a baby she moved to Greenville, South Carolina and went to Matroome Presbyterian private school for girls, for her secondary education. She later went to Benedict College in Columbia, South Carolina, for her degree and that is where she met her first husband Mr. Rev. James H. Walker.

It seemed like ages before he was free. He ran back towards the British line, expecting at any moment to feel a bullet rip through him. Then, out of the blue, a single shot rumbled across the dormant battlefield. Ed spun around just in time to see the German commander’s pistol smoking. The machine gunner who had spared his life was slumped over, motionless.

It is obvious from the opening chapter that this novel will center on the war and the effects it has on a young group of soldiers, none of them more than twenty years of age. They are all friends and former classmates of Paul Baumer, the narrator and protagonist of the book; they have enlisted in the German infantry because their teacher, Kantorek, had painted for them a glorious picture of fighting and saving the homeland from destruction during World War I. In this first chapter, Baumer and his friends are away from the front lines, relaxing a bit after two weeks of fierce fighting. As each of the young men is introduced, it is apparent that they are tired, hungry, angry, and disillusioned over the war.

She had discovered the power of words and it felt so exhilarating! She wrote and explored her new found creative love with passion until the door flew open and Miss Muller and Miss Margot rushed in beaming, "We're heard that the war will soon be over and everyone will be freed." Willy jumped up into the air and twirled and then ran over laughing and hugged the ladies. Joseph who was still feeling rather ill sat and clapped his hands and coughed twice. And Anna smiled happily dropped her pen and paper and declared, "I can't believe that we had 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 violently 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 their blacks boots making a click clock sound on the wood floors as they searching. Everyone held their breath and listened as the soldiers opened squeaky doors and then slamming them shut, door after door until finally they entered into the tiny room where the group five was huddled together. Four were on their feet and other remained seated. The tall SS officer who was in charge smiled at the them and mocked, "We're making merriment yes?" Then he pointed to them squinting his small devious blue eyes and demanded, "What's your names?" Everyone gave their name and he frowned at Joseph and through clenched teeth snickered, "You let's go." Miss Margot ran over and stood in front of Joseph and cried, "No, not him, he has hasn't done anything!" One of the soldiers yelled, "Be quiet and get out the way old lady their only being taken a labor camp. Then he knocked her to the floor with the butt of his gun. Willy gasped for air and Anna dashed over to help her up. The officer smirked with

Howells' short story sheds light on the unreasonable outlook of the literal world from a perception fueled by standards of romanticism. Personified through Editha Balcom, a shallow, impersonal, perfection-seeking young woman, the influence of the ideal is emphasized through her self-centered demeanor, lofty expectations, and naive character. Early on, It is evident that Editha lives in a world of her own, unaware of wrong from right, rather, she only acknowledges whether an act is heroic or not. She looks at her fiancé, George Gearson, a humble, rational, peaceful young man, with this exact sentiment upon his weary announcement of the beginning of war. As expected, she calls the otherwise brutal act of war "glorious!" (Howells 168) in a frenzy of emotion. Editha seeks a perfect man who should return from war having done "something worthy to have won her" in other words, somebody to "be a hero, her hero" (169). As Editha prepares herself to relinquish George to war, the reader witnesses the true debilitating forces of one who is congenial with the ideal. Through dramatic and emotional outpourings to George by letter, her writing evinces to be the quintessence of unrealistic virtues; one in particular filled with fluffy, over

The anecdote entices the reader and her poetic description of the way each stroke of a letter can be subtly varied and the way the letters smudge. Connects her with the reader as a person and not an endorser.

Scrutinizing snow descending out-of-doors of the cabin, my exposed bone-chilling feet being linked together, and soldiers vacating or even expire or perish in forepart of the soldiers one by one in Valley Forge. The forecast exterior of the cabin was frightening to the soldiers that were to go outside. Revealing the truth, habiliments on the soldiers were narrowly unceasing on the bodies on the arctic and incapacitated. Soldiers are vacating minus terms and stoutheartedness. Suffering soldiers are living throughout the winter tide. As a matter of fact, some soldiers are steadily at death’s door. Even some soldiers assume vanquishing the bloodshed while the other half of the militia do not. Other soldiers conjecture in successfulness. Subsequently analytical about my disenfranchise country, I have manifest to reenlist because numerals of deaths and sickness to the soldiers, combat with strength and loyalty, and finally endorsing your ancestry and country with fulfillment.

This is one of the reasons why keeping a notebook is favourable, as “memory is of the highest importance to men in every sphere of life” (Mnemon, 361-62). The sentiment one feels at a specific moment is evident through writing. It is “not a mere record of what we’ve done or what we’ve seen; it is a record of our reactions” (Smith, 26). However, writing does not always mean there is a purpose for it. It is sometimes done to release what has been irritating or affecting a person. Didion, for instance, discusses minor events where she remembers meeting people, even though this acquaintance will not affect her emotional capacity in the future. She was not sure “how much of it actually happened”, or the reason behind her writing it but it should not matter what part of it occurred. Didion suggests that if a piece of writing has a sense of association with a person, regardless of whether it produces a good memory or not, recording its detailed episodes. She succeeds in getting this point across by her several uses of

In the opening chapter, Paul Baumer, the narrator, recalls how schoolteachers, such as his own, persuaded their bright-eyed students to put on the German colors. Paul’s teacher, Kantorek, taught his students the importance of the war as he instilled in them the values of nationalism and patriotism. Everyday, he sprouted war propaganda at them in “long lectures” (Remarque 11). He glamorized the war telling his students that they were “the Iron Youth” (Remarque 18) and that “duty to one’s country is the greatest thing” (Remarque 13). Consequently, his students left class enlisted in the war one by one “until the whole of the class went” (Remarque 11). When the students left the comforts of home to volunteer for the war, they valued their country above all else and were prepared to face their own death as doing so lined up with what they believed in.

As Joe talked about working in the hospital, he never took his eyes off of his grandson, who was asking the questions, and pleading for the answers. His voice was always firm and steady, until he spoke about the victims of the Battle of the Bulge. Then Joe’s eyes teared up, and his steady voice began to waver. Just talking to Joe, you could almost hear, see and smell what he

Using firsthand accounts of people’s lives, such as letters and diaries, gives the reader the ability to experience the writer’s thoughts, feelings, hopes, and dreams. This tactic was used by two authors to use these firsthand accounts for differing outcomes. Author James McPherson provides a comprehensive analysis of the Civil War using over 25,000 letters and 250 private diaries in his book, For Cause and Comrades: Why Men Fought in the Civil War. McPherson in his book answers to age-old questions; who was the common soldier and why did soldiers fight – what was their motivation? While McPherson answers these questions, another author uses diaries and letters of Civil War soldiers to understand the physical side of war. Author Kathryn

“What could I do but go with them (Civil War soldiers), or work for them and my country? The patriot blood of my father was warm in my veins.” Ms. Barton was a battlefield nurse. She delivered food and medical supplies to the wounded as well as waited with them until they were carried to safety. She was given the title “Angel of the battlefield.” “Undaunted, the likely figure in her bonnet, red bow, and dark skirt moved on and on, and on and on. Working non-stop until dark and even after, Ms. Barton comforted men and assisted surgeons in their work.

Anxiety subdues his confidence as the prospect of a decisive victory dims with each passing minute. He tries to process his subordinate's failure, while looking at the fleeting figures of Prussian and Russian soldiers through his spyglass, but comes to a single conclusion, disappointment. "He dare fail me in the heat of battle!" He barks at his staff.