Personal Narrative: My First Vietnam War

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...

This is the end, i’m sorry I have to leave you. You have grown so much since the first time I had seen you. I will miss you. At that moment, I realized that I won’t get to see America grow even more than it already has... Ok, before I give away anything else, let’s go to this morning, before all of this happened. It was Friday, April 14, 1865, 7:08am when my wife Mary came into my bedroom and made me the usual breakfast in bed. She got me 1 egg and a cup of coffee. After I got out of bed I went to my office and worked for a while.

After war hit, virtually everything was deteriorated. In a four-mile radius from where I stand, not a single architecture except for the government buildings and makeshift shops are still structurally sound. Families are forced to survive, father's craft shelters for their families out of the detritus that remains. Children, including ages of even six years, sleep deprived due to labor, desperately attempt to rest on empty, dented, bed frames. The only people that have real, formal shelters are the aristocrats that pay hundreds of thousands of dollars to hire a room in a government shelter and the government families.

As I rose from bed, I could hear my wife starting to make breakfast. Today was going to be quite a day, mainly due to a fast coming winter and the need to harvest the squash and corn was increasing each day. I proceeded to change into my work attire and brown maroon felt hat I had bought myself last week. I walked out of my room and went into the main room where I had my breakfast every morning. I walked over to the table and sat in a hand carved chair made by the finest carpenter in Saybrook where my porridge awaited me. After sitting down at the table with my two sons and wife, I blessed our porridge and had my younger son read a Bible verse. Reading the Bible is a crucial part of being a Puritan since if one could not read the Bible they

I am so sorry that you have to go through all this. As I was reading your letter I saw that you did not want to show any of your “pain” and or shout to Margot, Van Daan, Dussel and dad, I do not think that is the best of your ideas I feel that they should know how you feel. And tell them everything that they caused for you. Even if they do scream all the more. You shouldn't just go by how they feel about you when your quiet or when you talk. Honestly, I think they are just jealous of you. But there's something I have never told anyone but since I feel all of your pain.I haven't told anyone Ever. I feel that I can finally tell you what happened when I “disappeared” last year. Well, I never disappeared I was on a trip to California, well I had just gotten a job at a

The thought of the defeat screen plagued my mind. It took over all other emotion and drowned out even my extremely heavy breathing. Panic and doom rode their dark chariots led by the mares of carnage over the chaos in my mind. This was it. I attempted diverting from thoughts of the devastatingly disturbing gameplay on my screen to something positive. As the enemy team led by Lux charged the mid-lane, my mind raced to find something to improve my decaying self-esteem. I watched their tank, Darius, absorbing the little resistance provided by the last of the crumbling turrets. Fixating my glance on my re-spawn time I stretched my fingers in anticipation. A game plan was beginning to form in my mind. Eight lengthy seconds passed as I waited in

In May of 2007 I was a recently promoted Specialist with 20 months in the Army and 11 months in Iraq. I was assigned to B Company, 5th Battalion, 20th Infantry Regiment; a member of the 2nd Infantry Divisions 3rd Stryker Brigade Combat Team. As part of President George W. Bush’s “Surge” our 12 month deployment was extended to 15 months. We had spent the previous months moving around Iraq to support multiple areas of operation (AO), but in March of 2007 had moved to the volatile city of Baqubah, where we had begun the long and arduous task of clearing the city of insurgent forces.

Currently I am the acting Section Sergeant in Bravo Troop 1-73 Cav, 2nd BCT, 82nd ABN DIV. I began my career October 2009 and was stationed at Ft Richardson AK, with 3rd Battalion 509th Infantry. In my tenure there I served in positions spanning from the assistant gunner to squad leader, and also the Fire Direction Center (FDC) check and chief. While serving as a gunner/ team leader we deployed to Eastern Afghanistan in support of Operation Enduring Freedom. I was attached to Chosen Company 3-509 and in December 2011 we landed in Bagram, the following week I was slowly pushed out to Combat Outpost (COP) Herrera. COP Herrera was a small outpost located in the Jaji District, East Paktia, and the surrounding villages were known Taliban strongholds.

All of my problems began and ended with a book and a statue. I was currently surrounded by dozens of giant carnivorous lizards. This explanation may be slightly confusing for you, so please allow me to tell my story.

I sat in my room bored out of my mind. My last mission was a few days ago and since I’ve only flown once. I was getting the itch. I needed to fly. To kill. To do something other than sit here on my ass and deal with drunk French and American soldiers every night. Being the first woman to fly and the only woman soldier in this war, I had a hard enough time dealing with their horny, egotistical men comments. I don’t need them drunk too. I got up and walked to my brothers room.

It was 5 am in the morning and I was flying over the Persian Gulf, I was exhausted from the 18 hour flight from Virginia. All I wanted to do was sleep, but the vast amount of emotions I had swirling around in my body kept me in a trance state. Scared because this was my first time in the Middle East and excited to finally see something new, it was a bittersweet moment for me. Finally we landed, Excited to feel my legs again, I rushed towards the front of the plane, only to feel like someone was holding a perpetual blow dryer and LED light to my face. And at that moment, I knew I had arrived in Qatar --- what has the military gotten me into?

I wandered across the street, the gravel crunched under my feet. I hear my dad yell my name “Amira.” I run toward my house. My dad tells me to lock the door as soon as I am in. Click, goes the lock. But, something’s not right, my dad is still outside. I look through the peephole in my door. I see 5 men in camo uniform with guns charging at my dad. They stop one meter away from him. The soliders raise thier guns. Aim. Fire. Bang, Crash. I can’t see anything except bright red blood. I scream. I hear the soldier’s feet crumble on gravel and the sound becomes more and more faint. I open my door and there in front of my eyes, my dad covered in thick blood. I roll up into a ball and start shaking. My throat starts closing up. Suddenly I hear a soft,

Something strange happens to me whenever I fly into Beirut airport, which I have done several times in the past twenty years. My heart beats faster and I get butterflies in my stomach. I begin to recall Lebanon’s history and the horrific events that took place. Lebanon, a country that has suffered from civil wars as well as invasional wars, continues to overcome and recover from all the past scars left behind. One particular war in which Beirut and several other cities were affected is the 1982 war with Israel, also known as Operation Peace for Galilee. This war has been of interest to me since I was young because my mother would not stop talking about it every now and then. She describes her startled feelings as a young girl experiencing a violent and disastrous war.

Six wrestling mats mantled the floors, three in each of the two gymnasiums. A battle was being fought on every one, each and every soldier using all of the weapons in his arsenal. The hands of the victors were raised while the heads of the defeated drooped. The bleachers were packed with spectators. In the thin corridor that separated the two gymnasiums, people shuffled through, walking, talking, and laughing. Wrestlers occupied the indoor track that encircled the upper floor of the gymnasiums. Awaiting their next battle, the warriors prepared their minds and bodies.

I was mounted upon the forty ton steel beast, M4 Sherman. It trampled and stomped on all of its puny enemies that had opposed it. Up ahead there was a German outpost. My heart flustered in anticipation. Ba-Dum, Ba-Dum, Ba-Dum. Caressing the large crimson button, I was ready to devour. The weapon of mass destruction finished aligning with its marked target; the button like a mole went down then quickly went up. Soaring through the sky like superman, the high explosive shell devastated the side of the building. Swivelling the turret towards the exposed infantry garrisoned there, ready to unleash a storm. However there were two deafening bangs. BOOM! BANG! We were oblivious to the other tanks in our platoons as they wanted to break their boredom. Anyone could have smelt our victory from miles away. This wasn’t a battle, this was a massacre. I could feel medals already in my hands.