Essay : A Short Chapter : Chapter 1

"I put my needle sticking it through and through and over and over laying the lacerated parts together as nice as I could with my hands."

Shame is a constant theme in The Things They Carried. Soldiers felt like they had to go to war, but fear of embarrassing themselves, their families, and their towns if they ran. This embarrassment was helped by the guilt of not being "masculine" enough or not being brave, heroic, and patriotic enough. the author reflects how he thought he had a secret reserve of bravery and heroism stored away, waiting for the moment when he would be called into war—if that day ever came—in chapter 4, and how in reality no such reserve existed.

The soft words were enough to harden Booker’s cock, and grabbing Tom by the hand, he pulled him into the bedroom. He watched with growing arousal as Tom removed his boxers and lay on the bed. As he quickly undressed, he could feel two dark, soulful eyes watching his every move, and a shiver of excitement brought goose bumps to his flesh. However, he knew he needed to be patient and let Tom set the pace. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten him by coming on too strong.

* Recruits quickly set into reality with a medical examination that left with barely enough strength to crawl into their barracks

So far thirty soldiers were there recovering from wounds received on the battlefield. Most of them had been injured during the Siege of Ventier. The camp was located on a plain outside of Ventier and it had few defenses. It was fit to hold fifty to sixty soldiers at a time and it had 30 medical beds. Very few of the soldiers really needed to stay there anymore, but they didn't want to go back to the death of war. But, they would have to soon. Then in the distance twenty-three soldiers accompanied by four uninjured guards were either on a stretcher or in a transport truck, some were marching. Corporal Mike Vence was in the front leading them. He was an experienced outdoorsman and an expert with a gun. After the Siege of Ventier, he had been entrusted with the responsibility of transporting injured troops from point "A" to point "B." He also was given an experienced entourage of infantry to aid him in this. Not only that but he also received three troop transport trucks and one Humvee,

Why do we speak of ‘basic” rather than “primitive” religions? We speak of basic religion because basic religion came from prehistory or are practiced in remote places. And elements of the basic religions are found to some degree in all religions. Basic religions represent the majority of the total religious experience of humankind. While primitive religion carries with it connotations of being backward, simple, even childlike. Christian or Muslim or Jew may tend to look down on these religions as being superstitious, uncivilized, or even savage. The term is misleading in suggesting that the religions of those peoples are somehow less complex than the religions of "advanced" societies.

“Wake up, Soldier!” shouted a man. The boy awoke with a start, knocking his drum over in the process. He noticed people bustling about all around him while they pulled on boots and helmets.

At the time, many that were drafted into the war didn’t know what they were fighting for and why they were there. Not only is war physically exhausting, but many soldiers suffered from psychotic breaks and from PTSD. A method to interpret Tim O'Brien's experience in war is to look at his mental state through Psychoanalytical Criticism.

Father O'Malley sensed the heat between them as he began deeply breathing. He loosed his collar and began unbuttoning his shirt exposing his moderately hairy porcelain white chest. Father O'Malley joined Sullivan in unzipping his pants and having his cock spring liberated from his confining tighty-whities.

“Uhh sir, we might have a problem. The monster is now 100 feet away from us.” Another soldier said.

Taking a deep breath, Levi closed the door to his personal quarters. A loud sigh escaped his lips as he collapsed on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Although he was known for showing little to no emotion, Levi nearly broke down crying at least three times throughout the day. Levi had dealt with some pretty rough shit in his thirty years of life, but between the starving and constipation, absolutely nothing could have possibly prepared him for the suffering that would be brought to him by the latest Survey Corps Recruits.

Page 120-121 “...the young man would not have wanted to be a soldier...try not to grow up too fast.”

Looking down the hall to his surprise was General Armstrong and the Israeli General Rallah Fralish. She was a beautiful woman in her late forties and a formidable adversary. Whatever they were discussing it had become heated both of them flinging their arms up in wild gestures but careful not to raise their voices so as not to arouse attention. To Hunter, it almost appeared to be some kind of lovers spat. That was not in the realm of impossible both of them were single and with just a few years difference in age. Hunter felt there was more history there, though, Armstrong had been stationed in Israel sometime back. But had returned to attend Rallah’s sons funeral and had started spending more time there lately afterward. What a pair those two would make the indomitable spirit meets the immovable force. No about all the could agree on would probably be sex and then it would be a battle for who's on top. They paused in their emotional tirade as another a junior officer appeared out of the conference room he snapped to attention as both Armstrong and Rallah returned the statute. Hunter hadn’t been spotted yet so he disappeared back into the stairwell keeping the door cracked to watch and listen. As The junior officer approach his position Hunter closed the door to a sliver of an opening as the man past he noticed he was in a flight suit. The arm patch signifying what squadron he was in only had an Icon

It was November 2004, a bitter cold breeze filled the air. I was a 17 year old Army recruit, ambitious and hopeful as I stood in formation in front of the reception battalion at Fort Leonard wood awaiting transport. I had some ideas about how my next 8 weeks would go, but nothing compared to the next 24 hours. I watched as the transport trailer, which looked like a cattle trailer, rounded the corner and came to a rattling stop in front of our formation. It seemed to bring with it more of a bone chilling gust of air, as if the sight and sound of the eerie trailer wasn't enough to upset your stomach. The door on the side swung open and out came a Drill Sergeant, A clean cut and intimidating man that had a certain pride in his step. I felt very

“Mounting number of enlisted men and officers who found their way solemnly to Sergeant Towser several times a day to ask if the orders sending them home had come in. They were men who had finished their fifty missions” (Heller, 26). The military had said that when they finished their required missions that they would be sent home, yet the military lies and does not fulfill its promise. “They worried and bit their nails. They were grotesque, like useless young men in a depression.