Personal Narrative: My Family During World War I

In August 17,1917 All that I have seen in the front and experienced people dying getting feed turnips and boiled water also there were camps where moors were. While that was happening these two big guys with held guns up to my face and said take care of him to me I was so scared I didn’t know what to say. After that then I got to go on leave I went to see my mom and the doctors said that she could not be cured because it is cancer. Then I went to see my dad and he asks how the war was. When he said that I didn’t want my family to worry about me and war so, then I came back from leave. Before getting to the front we had to get food so we could survive. As soon as I got some food the mortars went off one of

As a child of a Vietnam Veteran, I have witnessed my father and go through many things to receive adequate support. My father suffers from progressive prostate cancer, Post-traumatic stress disorder, and a depraved back. These chronic illnesses have forced him to retire early and seek help from the government for financial support. He has repeatedly seek help for the Veteran Affairs applying for unemployment disability and have been turn down several times because his illnesses are considered to be common for Vietnam Vets. This has been hard on my family caring for him and finding an extra source of income to sustain living. Living in a rural area there are no Veteran Affair offices, therefore, we have to travel two and a half hours and

This heartwarming story is about a young boy and his father who visit the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington D.C. they’re looking for his father’s name on the giant wall of names. While looking for his grandfather’s name, the young boy witnesses a soldiers who lost both of his legs, and is confined to a wheelchair, an older couple who are embracing each other crying, and a flower that id drooping. His father seems saddened, as well as the others who are visiting the memorial. The young boy is sad because he doesn’t have a grandfather, but his father tells him that he couldn’t be more proud to see his name on that wall because he died fighting for our

It is with a heavy heart that I write to you all, but I do hope you all are well. It has been a rough three months since I've joined the other nurses in aiding this war and needless to say I have settled in and adapted to the conditions. Since the beginning, nothing has changed within these 3 months, neither side had gotten much advantage of the war. It would be as if a back and forward tug of war between the two sides. Everyday I watch from the tent as hundreds of men rot away in the horrid conditions of the trenches. Many were brought in but many doesn't mean all. After barely being treated and having about a week of recovery soldiers were sent back to suffer in the battlefield. A few weeks ago a huge storm crossed the battlefield. The trenches

Meanwhile, a specific sergeant tried to make my life harder. This sergeant enjoyed agonism which “occurs among those who enjoy fighting for its own sake and who perceive trading insults as a type of game” (p.21). I constantly tried to filter out the words being filled in my head, but my internal dialogue had been so negative and judgmental for so long I really believed the bad things. I could not and did not understand that I was good person with many good characteristics. I was fighting 2 wars in a combat zone, one against terrorists in the desert and the other inside my head.

We all sleep and rest and eat in the trenches, but it’s not paradise. One night, the sound of loud booms woke us up. We were being attacked by some very dangerous artillery. We could feel every boom and every crack in the dirt above us. Many soldiers were not prepared for this and got sick. The attack come out of nowhere and frightened all of us.

12th March 1915: The day hadn’t started out differently to any other day. I had just been out to milk the cows and feed the calves. As I was walking back to the farmhouse for breakfast, I met Dad, who had come back from the markets. He stopped the truck beside me and wouldn’t look me straight in the eye. That was when I knew there was something wrong. He wordlessly passed a brown envelope out of the truck window. “GOVERNMENT OF NEW ZEALAND” was emblazoned in bold red print across the front. My heart lurched, constricting my throat. As I opened it, my worst fear was confirmed. In small lettering it announced, “Mr Michael Jones, we need you to protect our country.”

They were everywhere we went. We ran down the dark alley. They were right behind us. We turned down another alley only to find a dead end. They were already walking towards us, blocking the only exit. We were surrounded. There was nothing we could do. We were out of ammunition and had no other weapons. I stood in front of the group ready to protect them at all costs.

It was mid-October and in the twenties, because it was October as was I am finishing my route. As I biked the town seemed so beautiful. I like this job because it helps me get away. I had woken up with Abelard screaming about friends lost in the war. Jacob had to come over help him. Jacob was a friend of the family and was also referred as an hyphenated American. The two had been bullied at the start of the Great War long before it came to America.

I am Ella Karcewski reporting to you on this gloomy Spring evening, hoping that this war may soon be over. I am currently experiencing a day that I will never forget. The images that I am seeing, and the heartbreaking pain that I am feeling will never be erased from my naive mind. I feel nearly speechless and am saddened for those drastically affected by this war. I am encountering a tragedy as soldiers and horses alike are collapsing to the ground, screams of pain coming from their courageous bodies. Pouring rain is drenching horses and soldiers, and darkness is curtained over the gloomy sky. Ominous clouds fill the atmosphere above, and it seems that the sun wouldn’t dare peek out on this bellicose April day in 1915. All of this French territory

turning my head again I saw Simon dive to my aid. He did not utter a

August 6th, 1945. It was just an ordinary day. I woke up early this morning to help a friend move some things. Everything was well until I saw the light. I plunged myself between two large rocks, no questions asked. When I was able to get a glackr of what has happened I saw nothing but destroyed homes and dust. I’ve never seen so much blood, it was unbearable. A lady and her injured boy came my way and I couldn't help but help them and take them to a shelter to get help. As I looked over the city, a thick black smoke filled the air. Then the thought hit me, what about my family? Immediately after I ran to search for my family. On the way to search for them I began to feel guilty. How could all these people be hurt, injured or even dead,

My hands were covered in blood.. It was only a matter of time till they caught me.. I could hear the roaring of the wind. The heavy breathing coming from my own chest.. My stomach ached in pain. I could feel the tears beginning to escape from my eyes...

The novel Fireshadow by Anthony Eaton is set in the contexts of past and present. The past is set during World War II at a prison camp in the West Australian bush where you follow a German soldier who is imprisoned in the camp. The present day is set in the present Australian bush where it follows a boy who’s ran away from home. Fireshadow is constructed to focus on how the issues from the past differ to now. The main issues that differ in society from past and present are the racial conflict, being pregnant without a husband and family.

Most people can relate the word “home” to one area where they grew up and made memories. Unlike most people, I called many places home. Growing up in a military family was an arduous task which had great impacts, both positive and negative, on my life. It shaped me into the person I am today. A person with a laundry list of flaws and imperfections, yet has learned to love herself.