My Name Is Primo Michele Levi

Has there really ever been a time in your life when everything has been all quiet? No matter who you are, there is always something on your mind, or something that you have to deal with. There is really only one way to achieve absolute quiet, and that is by death. War unfortunately gives millions of people just that. All Quiet on the Western Front is a book that tells a story of young men and their journey throughout WW1 from the German perspective. Three main points of war that will be mentioned in this paper are betrayal, horror, and friendship.

I was born May, 30th 1989 at Wadley Medical in Texarkana, Ar. I was born to Kym Crispino from Queens, NY and William Lee of Hot Springs, Ar. My parents were young when they had me. We were very poor at times, but they always made sure I had what I needed. I was an only child, but grew up around plenty of cousins. I have lived in Texarkana my entire life. My parents split up when I was twelve, and my mother and I moved out into the country on a dead-end street with no children in the area, I became very sheltered and a little socially awkward.

I don’t really know where to begin but i’ll give it a try. My names Jethro (JuJu) Melse also known as Jet. I turned 16 this month on the third of September. I was born in Orlando, Florida. But was raised in Paterson ,New Jersey. My nationality is Haitian. Im also a Christian. I am also the first born. I grew up with two younger siblings. But I had a lot of responsibilities from a young age. I will be telling you the story about me.

About the Author: My name is Gabriela Marie. I am a 26 year old reporter from Berlin, Poland. Today is September 1, 1939. The day everything changed.

Soldiers may not always be prepared to return to their civilian life after witnessing danger and casualties while being away. Some seemed to deal with it by keeping their mind busy with pastime activities such as writing, while others just cannot imagine a future after. Tim O’Brien is one of the people who found writing as a way to exercise the mind and break free. The Things They Carried is considered to be O’Brien’s way to release his memories and stories in order to move on with life. He is now forty-three years old and still writes

So I would like to present myself officially. My full name is Andrea Paniagua, I was born on May 4, 1996, which makes me 20 years old right now. I am from Hendersonville, North Carolina, but was born in Naples, Florida. I am Mexican American. Both of my parents are from Mexico, my mom was born in the state Guanajuato but raised in Mexico City and my dad was born and raised in Mexico City. I have a total of 6 sibling which all of them are half siblings. I grew up all my life with only two siblings, which I call them my full blood siblings. I have two loving parents, my dad and mom. I have a strong bond with both of them but I have a stronger bond with my mom, she is more like my to go person, my best friend. I have a boyfriend who I have been dating for three years. I have one dog and then my family has another. In other words I have two dogs but one is mine and the other is the family dog. My dog is a Shih-Tzu and the family dog is a German Shepard.

First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt once wrote in a letter to President Harry Truman that, “No one won the last war, and no one will win the next war.” As civilians it is hard for us to imagine the unspeakable horrors that soldiers face while on the battlefield. It is equally hard to understand how they come back home so very different than the men and women we saw off at the airport all those years ago. Many soldiers have said that they went to war as a boy and came back without a mind; even though they ‘won the war’, the costs outweighed the benefits because they have to carry all of the things they did in the war zone with them the rest of their lives. In The Things They Carried, Vietnam veteran Tim O’Brien repeatedly says that he has an intense need to write down the stories of his oversees experiences even though the memories are too painful to think about. With that in mind, this essay seeks to answer the questions: Does writing about their experience help soldiers cope? What about Tim O’Brien; does writing about his experiences seem to give him any sort of relief at all?

Through the years 1939 through 1945 there was the terrifying tragedy of World War II. It wrecked people’s homes and nations, killed many families and friends. However, the true destruction it caused was on the mind, the psyches and the sanity of the loved ones waiting at home and the men in battle. I am Louie Zamperini and this is my story from the war, and how I was unbroken.

After reading Night, I will never forget to not to forget. I will not forget the horrible conditions of Auscwitz. I will never ever forget the name Auscwitz. I will never forget the cries of the babies that were burned alive. I will not forget the feeling I had after watching real images that convey the reality of being a prisoner at Auscwitz. I will not forget how important it is to remember and to never loose hope. Because hope summons future. And last but not the least ,I will not forget to cherish , thank and respect my parents.

I found some paper today and I wanted to write to you. I know it’s only been a few weeks since they took me to this camp and split us up but I still miss you a lot. I’m doing good, the camp that they brought me to isn’t too bad. We eat well, and there are not a lot of people (Bergen-Belsen United). I thought it would be more crowded, but it’s not. I’ve heard stories about the concentration camps, how sickness spreads and the food is scarce, the number of people there can be, but it's bearable (Bergen-Belsen Camp). The camp is big, there are at least four other camps that they keep people in (Bergen-Belsen), I don’t know how it is over there but I can only hope it’s decent. People from the other camps have come over here

17 year old kid, born in Bronx, NY raised in Santiago, DR and living in Lawrence, MA. Raised with both parents and two brothers, one older one younger. I was born in The Bronx a borough in New York, in a small hood called Allerton. I lived here for a couple months after my birth to then move to Dominican Republic. Both my parents were born in Dominican Republic, when i was moved to the Dominican Republic I lived in a city called Santiago in a neighborhood called Pekin which is also where my dad was born. Pekin was where i spent most of my childhood, raised with a lot of cousins like brothers, around this time my younger brother wasn’t born yet and my older brother was in the United States with my grandma due to him already being enrolled in a school here. I also spent a lot of time in a neighborhood called Los Ciruelitos which

He woke up sweating and breathing roughly; it has been forty-eight years since the war, but every night, his nightmares take him back to the forest again. He’s scared of closing his eyes, because the darkness allows the images of bloody limbs, empty eye sockets, of death to fill his mind. I’ve never seen my father as helpless as he looks after waking up screaming, and to help ease his suffering, I decided to read the entries of a diary that he kept during and after the war:

Welcome. The name is Jack Roosevelt Robinson. I have overcome many of obstacles and roadblocks, and it is my honor to share these experiences with everyone in attendance. I would first like to describe myself to the audience.

The author incorporates letters written to his family members, friends and relatives about his war experiences as well as photographs of battlefields and military camps

Sweat beads dripping down my forehead, loud thuds in my head and a dark, dark quiet room. I kicked the blanket off of me, it almost felt like I was lifting a heavy weight off my shoulder and throwing the burden out the window. I spun my feet around and got up quickly, the world spun with me as if I was being sucked into an inevitable vivid hole like in Alice in Wonderland. I could feel the adrenaline rush. My heart was beating irregularly and I had a blurred vision. I managed to balance my feet on the cold, hard wooden floor. I felt a shiver scamper down my spine. I started fumbling for my calendar. Same day today, 10 years ago, 20th of September 1944, I was arrested by the Gestapo and deported to the Westerbork transit concentration camp and