Personal Narrative-Let's Get Our Wag On

I was alone. In the dark forest, water up to my shoulders, all alone. I felt hopeless, as if i was to meet my end in that dark hole. Part of me just wanted to give up and let this dark depth consume me, but i did not. Courage is something we are all familiar too, we have

Most people are all grown up when they finally figure out what they want to do with their life. I was 4. I realized what I wanted to be when I attended my very first Rodeo. Even though it was so long ago I can remember that day like it was yesturday. That day got me on the path to my future.

While there, I was able to conquer many of my fears, especially height. My goal for the week was to overcome the tallest zip line in the entire camp. Every day during my free time I would try a new zip line, as each day passed the ziplines only grew taller and taller, until it was the last day and I was finally ready for the 160 foot tall zip line. Once I strapped myself into the harness, I began to get nervous, but I refused to give up; I closed my eyes and jumped off the ledge and as soon as I jumped I felt happiness consume me, in this moment I knew I was becoming a new person, a person who craved

This crushed my dreams and years of hard work. However, I enlisted into the war effort. I trained and graduated from Midland Army Flying School in 1942,and was immediately joined with a crew in the bomber plane Superman. After many trips, and one severe attack, our crew was broken up, and I was transferred to the Green Hornet, a plane notorious for being unreliable in flight. On May 27, 1943, my plane crashed into the Pacific Ocean, with only two other men surviving. There was panic and confusion, and I hurt from the loss of my friends that sunk to the bottom of the ocean in their metal coffin. For days I, along with crewmen and friends, Phil and Mac, floated on two small rafts, fending off sharks, attempting to catch fish, and enduring storms and high heat in the burning sun. We had extremely low provisions, forcing us to suffer from dehydration and famine, unable to help ourselves in our situation. Our bodies were wasting away, but the three of us vowed to keep our minds sharp. We told stories, recited memories, quizzed each other on trivia, I even began to recount memories of my mother’s cooking in detail, to trick our starving stomachs if only for moments. Together, we also began to pray. It had been day twenty one of being on the rafts when I promised, “If God will quench our thirst, I will dedicate my life to him” (Hillenbrand 152). There was later a spontaneous rainstorm above us. After the death of Mac on the raft, “I prayed for myself and Phil, vowing that if God would save us, I would serve heaven forever” (165). I asked the Lord for mental, emotional, and spiritual strength, and to be saved from our new world of only ocean and suffering. On the forty sixth day, July 14, Phil and I were spotted and picked up by a Japanese ship. That was the beginning of my time as a Japanese Prisoner of War, the harshest time of war. During my time, I went to four POW camps, Kwajalein, Ofuna, Omori, and

We setout with our nalgines full of watter and we thought that we would not even use halph, But we undermested the heat and the terain of the trail. At first it was nice and shadie walk through nature. There where lots of trees and felids of crops surrounding us, and I loved it. We where all happy untill we had to climb a 200 foot h, and to make things even worst the clouds have moved and now the sun is bakeing. When we made it to the top, we where all

I never dreamed of being in a band, not in a million years. One day I was at the monthly Jam at Center Stage Vintage Guitars. I always had a great time jamming with the people there. And I always brought my banjo to the jams. It started out just like they usually do when all of a sudden this guitar player came up to me and said, “I got to talk to you.” I was confused and felt like a cat with no claws because I didn't know what he wanted. He looked funny because his extremely curly hair was as long as a redwood tree. He introduced himself and a bass player next to him. The guitarist was Greg Sanders and the bass player was Neill Jones. Neill looked as short as a middle-schooler, although he was twenty three.

It ripped through my chest like a beast trying to escape its cage. I finally felt it, God was in my heart. He had released all the displeasure, grief, and hopelessness I had felt for so many years and I knew from that moment, for the rest of my living and breathing life, I needed to show others who He was and what He could do. The feeling was indescribable and incomparable to anyone else, but I could see him moving through the other students’ lives around me that night. From the first gentle touch of his love, I vowed I would follow, respect, and live a life for Him always. Since then, my journey has been the most incredible and agonizing experience that I can describe. I have faced many difficult challenges and have hit the points of break

situation I was facing into an unsurpassable mountain. During these trials, I lost my faith in

“Petlon get in there,”Coach said. At first I was like what does he mean. I was confused because at the time Eli was a better center. I figured I should hustle out there and give it my best try, so that’s what I did.

My heart is racing, my palms are sweaty, my head is spinning, as I prepare myself to go into my least favorite place in the whole world; Chemistry class. I find myself sighing as I go to my seat, get out my book, and prepare to try to understand any word my teacher spits out at me. As I look up from my books and binders, I see the goofy, crazy, curly haired, Ms.Moser staring up at me like she has just seen something unworldly crash into my school and land right in my seat. She hands me a paper facedown, and I wish I did not exist for that few select fifteen minutes. As I flip my paper around, I see the dreaded words, F I P Q U I Z. For the next fifteen minutes of sitting in my seat racking my brain for some sliver of an answer for the questions

At that time, it was already four o clock in the morning. We could not believe what we had gone through. My friends began to let their emotions out. I was so scared I felt sick and my stomach felt like it was going to explode. I was so scared I was praying and praying in my mind the van would not slip or slide into the cliff, another of my friend said. In conclusion we arrived at the cabin at six am in the morning. When we arrived none of us could sleep as a result of the experience we had gone through. What kept us together and hopeful was that at the end of the road we would be

The nearly full moon is beginning its rise above the distant tree line, bathing the Night Defensive Position in a warm, luminescent glow when the word is passed down. There’s an incoming B-52 strike and we should take shelter in our bunkers. In an adjacent bunker, a fellow platoon member, Poole, states factually, “This is gonna be a close one.” How the hell does he know, I ask myself? And then I get it. If we’re ordered underground, it’s because of debris from the bombing. Cursing under my breath, I quickly pinch the glowing ash from a fresh lit joint between my thumb and forefinger and stash it in the chest pocket of my jungle fatigue. Instinctively my eyes narrow and glance skyward as the dilated pupils struggle to focus. Miles above me and separated by what appears to be great distances are… one… two… three… small, sequentially pulsating, crimson lights, spaced equidistance among the backdrop of the stars and moonlit sky. There they are I say to myself. This ain’t no fuckin’ drill!

As I trudge on down the long and worn dirt path, the blazing sun beats furiously down upon me as I cannot help but question why I was forced on such a quest. I knew that embarking on a pilgrimage to the Santiago de Compostela Cathedral would help me renew my faith and rid me of my sins, but still I wondered why such an expedition was necessary to prove my faith to my family. Back at my home in Biarritz, France, I had committed many sins and was truly guilty and responsible for all of them. But my parents knew that by forcing me on this journey, I would truly grow in my faith and my relationship with God would be closer than ever. I had just embarked from St. Jean-Pied-du-Port this morning, about four hours ago, and I was already feeling quite

I had no idea that how difficult it would be to get to the actual mountain. Our journey began with a six hour car ride to Uttarakhand, which is where the pilgrimage begins. Once we reached the local village we heard that the bridge that goes over the rushing river collapsed and I thought we would have to turn around. However, my dad decided that we should try to go anyway since we made the long journey to the village. So, we grabbed our backpacks and left the comfort of the million degree minivan. We went through some concrete underpass which opened up to a site I will never forget. Looking into the distance I saw enormous mountain peaks capped with snow, it looked just like a picture on a calendar. Juxtaposed to this awe inspiring scene was a madhouse of people trying to safely cross a roaring river. With the help of the military, people were hopping across slabs of rocks to get to the other side of the riverbank. It was like watching a kid jump from sofa to sofa to stay away from the lava on the ground, expect that this was not in any child’s imagination. I looked at my dad and said, “No way. I am not playing hopscotch with a river right under me.” All he said was, “Have some

Think of your favorite thing in the world to do. Something that defines you. Something that you can only experience from your eyes. For me it is soccer, and through that came a rite of passage that will be with me forever.