Personal Narrative: The Great War

If I could go back to any time in the world, I would go back to France in October 1944 on the Western Front. World War Two has always interested me. Being able to see the revolutionary weapons would be incredible. I would also love to take part in such a historic and epic war. War is a horrible event that plays a major part in human development.

If there was anything more terrifying to a shy, introverted, teenage girl than the idea of being a in crowded room full of strangers, it would to be actually in one. Yet, there I was, surrounded by a numerous amount of impatient, jet-black cars that illuminated the dark streets, rows of musicians rehearsing their piece by playing a dissonance of sounds, and the expectant, motley crowd of people lining up on the sidewalk for the veteran’s parade.

The short story that will be discussed, evaluated, and analyzed in this paper is a very emotionally and morally challenging short story to read. Michael Meyer, author of the college text The Compact Bedford Introduction to Literature, states that the author of How to Tell a True War Story, Tim O’Brien, “was drafted into the Vietnam War and received a Purple Heart” (472). His experiences from the Vietnam War have stayed with him, and he writes about them in this short story. The purpose of this literary analysis is to critically analyze this short story by explaining O’Brien’s writing techniques, by discussing his intended message and how it is displayed, by providing my own reaction,

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.

We were trapped in a house. There were redcoats surrounding the house. All we had was a bayonet and a knife. John was almost dead. He might as well be dead, having been stabbed, shot 3 times and attacked by rabbits (Don’t ask). John pointed out the window and said, “Look”.

The year was 1945 September 2nd when the news came. Accordingly to the newspaper, our troops were coming home soon. Hitler and his troops surrendered and Hitler apparently assassinated himself. The day before was a normal barefoot day for me, running the cane poles on the old Messer Creek. Everywhere I went, was briar patches that were havoc on my feet. You could her the commotion for miles or yelling and cursing the sharp prickly little devils. I knew our troops were overseas fighting Hitler and his Nazis and I was proud of them because my daddy got drafted, I prayed for them every night before I went to bed. I didn’t know when my daddy would be back, but I knew it would be soon. I was the man of the house for over six years today. Putting meat on our table, making sure the garden is taken care of, and feeding and milking the animals, for six years exactly. I had to take place of my dad, that means chopping wood, checking and fixing fences, cutting cedar fence posts if the

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

Today has been the most eventful day in all my life. I almost got my leg cut off, tried to kill myself, and became a war hero, in line to be promoted to Lieutenant. I cannot remember much from the first battle, in which I almost lost my foot, besides the blinding pain the came during it. I suspect the feeling will not leave me for the rest of my days. Pain so blinding I could not even manage a scream of pain. If was as if lightning had struck me and all the hornets in the world had decides that I was their worst enemy. The torture felt as if it had lasted for hours though only seconds after the attack I passed out and was dragged off of the battlefield. I woke up in the hospital tent, surrounded by bloody knives and surgery instruments, and looked outside to see what was to become my fate, a man hobbling along on one foot, being supported by tree branches alone.

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.

Although it’s been hard for my brother, Louis, my mother, Emma, my dad, Charles, and me, we have been enduring many hardships after this great war. Louis is only five, my mother’s thirty-eight, my dad’s thirty-nine, and I’m thirteen. Even though it ended almost a year ago, it still has some great effects on us. Some have had some positive effects, but they’ve mostly been bad. The Great War had not completely end in 1918.

I was assigned my first mission, I was transported to the German army I have waited for this moment; for my line of duty that I would be apart in. Everyone was in a complete panic; all over the news was constant reminders that Austria army has declared war against Serbia. I knew that it wasn't going to end well, then again, doesn't war never end well? Bloodshed, men dying. Bombs. It was going to be complete chaos. Chaos, chaos, chaos. The thing that never ends. Everyone always getting their underwear tied in knots; because of something someone didn't like; or got accused of, and is determined to prove that it wasn't them who did it and decided to point their finger and get another country of billions of people. Now, everyone in every once

This decision appears very simple and straight-forward to people living in the year 2015. But what is so clear today was definitely a very tough decision in the seventeenth century years. Times have changed tremendously, and some even for the better. Being there I know I would have seen things very differently. The men now days don’t fight on the battlefields suppose to how the men did back in the earlier years. They have no idea what it’s like to be in a real war.

I am private 1st class J.J. Roberts from 28th infantry division, and in 1942 my sergeant told my buddies and I to go ahead and scout out the village. We were least than 5 yards away went we hear the explosion. Then, my buddies drop to the ground and was bleeding out, and I run and run until a blizzard came. I could feel the cold wind swept across the field and it made my whole body shiver, I knew I had to find shelter before the weather or the Nazi destroy me. I found an old barn that wasn’t destroyed by the war, and I stay there always altered and watching for wild game to eat. I wait weeks eating rats and running lower on my water reservoir. The whooshing sound the winds of the blizzard made make my body tired and I start to drift away. I

As a young man in World War II, Jean Eugene Havel not only faced family challenges but also witnessed Nazi violence and social struggles.

I have never once considered the possibility of WWIII. To me, I’ve always lived in my own protective bubble: living under the same roof with both of my parents, eating three meals a day, thinking that the most traumatic thing in my life was when Rhannon Zhang made fun of my speech impediment in second grade.