Personal Narrative: My M1903 Springfield Soldier

Everyone knows that a soldier is someone that has made the ultimate sacrifice. By that I mean someone that has gave up being with family and friends to go and help the world. However, being a civilian may be difficult at times, it does not even compare. The responsibilities of a solders can be challenging, rewarding and yet demanding. As a United States Soldier, fighting for our country, both home and abroad, we are considered as a band of brothers, well some may even call it a family whom incorporate the antic of military first, family second and accountability fits into the category as top priority. Within the United States, the importance of keeping our patrons safe and free of any potential threats that can be a risk to safety is also near

Little did I know that was going to be the second to last time I would see her. If I knew about my upcoming death and I had a choice, I would have stayed, but when you are deployed to the US army you don't have choice. You can resist orders and be killed or you can follow orders and have a slight chance of surviving. I chose the later because I wanted to come home to my beautiful wife.

Men were living outside for days or weeks on end, with limited shelter from cold, wind, rain and snow in the winter or from the heat and sun in summer. Artillery destroyed the familiar landscape, reducing trees and buildings to desolate rubble and churning up endless mud in some areas. The incredible noise of artillery and machine gun fire, both enemy and friendly, was often incessant. Yet soldiers spent a great deal of time waiting around, and in some quiet sectors there was little real fighting and a kind of informal truce could develop between the two sides. Even in more active parts of the front, battle was rarely continuous and boredom was common among troops, with little of the heroism and excitement many had imagined before the war. The Italian infantry officer Emilio Lussu wrote that life in the trenches was ‘grim and monotonous’ and that ‘if there were no attacks, there was no war, only hard work’.[1] The order to attack – or news of an enemy assault – changed

My first combat deployment was one that gave me a vast majority of experiences and shaped my mind and the decisions I would make as a Noncommissioned Officer. Along with my unit I deployed to Iraq for a year, conducted missions by helping the people of Iraq to establish a functioning government, and uproot insurgents. My unit had trained just as hard as all other units in the U.S. Army and we relished the fact that we would have the opportunity to deploy. For the better part this deployment did have its high points as well as indubitable low points that we wished would have never happened.

The story focuses on the emotions of the soldiers and describes how they endured extreme emotional torture during their time at war. All of them taken away from their homes and being thrown into a terrorizing unfamiliar area then given a gun and being told to fight most of them being young and having no combat experience. Tim O’Brien explains the amount of emotional stress each man carried “They carried all the emotional baggage of men who might die. Grief, terror, love, longing-these were intangibles, but intangibles had their own mass and specific gravity, they had tangible weight” (89). He describes how their fear affected even what supplies they brought with them from the amount of ammunition, to pocket knives, and even food. One of the soldiers in the story, Ted Lavender carried tranquilizers with him because he was scared of the physical pain he might endure. “Depending on numerous factors, such as topography and psychology, the riflemen carried anywhere from 12 to 20 magazines” (82). All the men struggled through

I had been awake for over 40 hours when they issued us our M16-A2 Service Rifles and cleaning kits. Little did I know that I would be spending night and day with this rifle and it would become a part of me. Receiving our rifles was the highlight of the day, we knew it was real now. After the armory we put on all 50 pounds of gear and walked for what seemed like miles to our new home, 4th Battalion Platoon 4005 Upper Deck Papa Company A Side. When we were introduced to our new home we were told to label all our new issued gear. 2 pairs of combat boots, 4 towels, 7 pairs of underwear, 7 sports bras, 2 sets of utility camos, etc. Once we had finished labeling all our gear we were able to hit the racks, I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. Being awake for 54 hours had taken its toll on me. But I knew this was the easiest day we would have during our stay.

In five years I see myself as either a Sargent or Corporal in the United States Marine Corps. Being 22 years old I will be in the first year of my second enlistment providing that I do not get NJP’d (non-judicial punishment) or something else dumb that I might get myself into. I look forward to joining the Marine Corps because of my long family military history and my extent of being a child of a military father. I plan on either being in the MOS (military occupational service) 1142 or 1345. I see myself having a degree by the end of those five years from online schooling while overseas on deployment or at my current duty station. Providing that I am a Sargent I will send in a request form in to become a DI (drill instructor) and then hopefully

My mates and I sat there and watched as 600 men geared up for battle. While the mysterious truth was hidden deep, so very deep down in the mind of an unknown. The fact that could have very well saved six hundred lives that dreadful day. A slight depressing mood surrounded and darkened the part of generals. The soldier’s however had a strangely different character about them. They were satisfied, hopeful and armed for anything that they may come across. Loyalty, honour, glory and courage stood out clearly in their eyes. The looks they expressed were nothing compared to usual. It was the look of nothing. However, the war was about

We picked up guns and bullets from the men that we killed. They were spread out and unprepared. We bolted down the street; most didn’t even see us coming. At one point our group of thirty soldiers encountered a few that had taken cover in a nearby neighborhood—not far from where I lived. We exchanged shots for a while before suddenly hearing the sound of rifles as their shots died out. We looked up to see from the windows above, people with hunting rifles, helping our cause. I looked up the street to see my mother and father, with a few windows unbarred, each had a rifle in their hands as well.

On the early morning of April 19th, my husband left to gather with the militia. I being worried could not go back to sleep and awaited by the window from time to time. The children were still asleep and out of the corner of my eyes, I see at least a couple hundred of lobsterbacks. I was frightened and crouched making sure I wasn’t seen. Oh how my heart beated, and I am ashamed to remind myself that the militia fired. Perhaps out of fear, but they fired. Immediately there was movement until my eyes could see, running, shooting, bloodshed. As soon as I saw the Regulars marching, and the house being so near to all the commotion I ran to the children and hoped they wouldn’t burn the house down. I was prepared, nervous for the life of my husband

Not all Americans contribute equally to our society. Some fail to participate, by waiving their right to vote or even evading taxes. Of those who do participate, most do not take an active position by running for office, going to meetings and debates, protesting, or even simply writing letters to the officials who represent them. I was one of these people. I didn't think that my involvement would matter, that one person among over 300 million in the United States could make even the slightest difference. The Tennessee American Legion Boys State showed me that I was wrong. I learned, through positive and negative experiences alike, to value myself appropriately, to be completely selfless, and to value community.

My army career was right on track. I had been in the army 3 years at this point, coming up on 4, and already had completed air assault school, been awarded my expert infantry badge, and had one 15 month deployment under my belt. I was assigned to the scout platoon sniper section and was waiting for a sniper school packet to get final approval from the company commander. I had been studying for the sergeant promotion board for months. I knew that study guide like the back of my hand, I knew whatever question I was asked by the command sergeant major I would have an answer for. I went to the promotion board that morning and blew it out of the water. My dress uniform was perfect. No one was able to find a single deficiency. The soldiers creed

I woke to the crack of rifles, the chattering of Jerry’s machine gun fire mixing with the BOOM of the artillery and realised I was lying in the slimy stinking mud that covered many of my division’s fallen soldiers on the western front. A few meters to my right I saw my best mate Jack slogging towards me “G’day mate” he said “G’day” I replied. “You know how we are going over the top to assault Jerrys positions today?” he said nervously “I feel like this will be my last time I will fight in this war.” “Why is that?” I queried, “Well” he answered “I believe that one of those bullets has my name on it this time. You know like old Charlie had that feeling before that artillery shell tore him in half?”

I was little, six or seven when I shot my first gun. The Ruger ten twenty-two; the smallest gun we had in the house at the time. Dad was in a shooting contest with just shooting twenty-twos. Every now and then he would let me shoot. The first shot I ever took; Dad was there to help me shoot and learn what to do and what not to do. WHAM, the gun went off; the bolt slams open and I got the first smell and taste of gunpowder being burnt. Talk about the best smell and taste; that was one of them! I leaned over to Dad and asked: can I shoot some more? He said have at it. WHAM, WHAM, WHAM; all between 4 second of ejecting the round and pulling the trigger.

I joined the Marine Corps looking for a challenge. I wanted to open doors for a new career and longed to have a positive impact on the world around me. Looking back five years later, I realize I found all that I originally sought, but I’ve also found something profoundly satisfying and meaningful that I never knew I was missing.