Soldier Narrative

The long 172 days had finally passed, and the day I had been waiting for, for months, had finally come. We were in Chicago for my One Direction concert, the day couldn’t have come faster. The agonizingly slow hours that passed that day was too much to bear. Before arriving at Soldier Field, I was highly anticipating meeting one of my closest friends, Jessica, for the first time. It’s actually rather incredible to me, we first were introduced on social media, we didn’t know each other at all, all we knew was that we both loved the same band, and we were both going to the same concert. Prior to meeting for the first time, we were restricted to Skyping each other almost every other day and texting every day.

It was 115 degrees; the platoon was walking through the middle of the desert each of them with 40 pounds of gear on and an M16A2 rifle. It was summer time in the country of Afghanistan and the temperature was rising. At this point I asked myself what the hell I am doing here and why did I join the United States Army? Right when I was thinking that I felt a tug on my leg and there stood a young boy about 7 years old with only one arm, “Candy,Candy” he asked. Upon speaking with the local villagers we found out that his arm was taken from an improvised explosive device (IED) planted

The United States Army defines leadership as the process of influencing people by providing purpose, direction, and motivation to accomplish the mission and improve the organization (ADP 6-22). The Non Commissioned Officer Corps has a rich history in leading troops. Their Slogan is “Back Bone of The Army”. I took this to heart when I was sworn into the NCO corps. The Warrant Officer Cohort is known for their technical and tactical ability and being subject matter experts (SME) in their field. This post will discuss the differences between the NCO and the Warrant Officer.

The building was empty when suddenly I my leg was grabbed , I reacted fast and pulled out my trench knife and jerked my leg away from the grasp of the hand, but I looked down at the now wet street only to see one of the men who I shot but apparently never ended, he crawled  to me gasping for air as his throat filled with the  blood from the wound in his neck, I looked into his eyes that filed with  blood and at that moment the soldier said “ Please….p p p please  help me…..(cough,cough)  I…..I have a wife and daughter.” I faced  a decision at that time,  the monster who  am or  the monster that they say I am. I grasped the man in between my arms and brought him closer to my body, I whispered a prayer that my mother taught me when i was a child,”Father..forgive those who have forsaken me and forgive those who have forsaken you.” The soldier's tears of blood ran down  my uniform, as I pierced his heart with my blade. I lay him down on the path and as he drew his last breath, he thanked me.  The shed door creaked slowly as i peered into the warm and sheltered air that was hiding from the storm. The General stood there in his dark grey coat, covered in badges and symbols, a beacon of authority to all the soldiers under his influence. I tried to silence

As we walk out of the catacombs the fresh air fills my lungs and I thank God that we made it out of there alive. I wish Pastor Ron could be here with us right now. He didn’t deserve to be killed. If anyone I did. Sure I wanted to come here to build a wall to help the school kids, but I honestly only did that for the service hours I needed to graduate. He had volunteered to come down and make sure we stayed and safe and to work on the wall. He didn’t have to. Now he is dead. I wish I could take his place and him be here right now, where I am standing. Just then I hear a burst of gun fire in the distance. Immediately I turn to it. I see two rebels fire and a bunch of bottles and they laugh and continue to jug their beers. Palmer grabs my arm and pulls me to the ground. He then points to the

Cornered, Terrified, and feeling the despair of the situation creeping in, I was numb. Staring at Drew and trying to grasp the situation, a flash of rage overpowers my anguish as I suddenly have a flashback of Drew welcoming me into the squad with open arms. The warmth of that time would be heaven compared to this agonizing heat and sand blasting into my face. Now though, here he is in my arms, with his pulse slowly fading. I get snapped out of it by gunshots followed by hoarse screams. We were being subdued, I had to think fast. My heart was racing out of my chest, wanting to escape this hell but my eyes scanned the situation. For a split second, everything seemed to be in slow motion and I sensed danger and instinctively ducked. Something grazed my hair, I look up to see a bullet zoom on by. With nowhere to run and location found out, I had to plant my feet and fight.

It was a dark and cold night during the middle of the war. I set up my sniper to get ready for the next battle. We got here early to get the upper hand on our opponents. We have to win this war. I went to the nearest rooftop that looked like it provided good coverage. I loaded my gun and did the one thing i could, I waited.

You wake up to the feeling of water dripping onto your cheek and your head throbbing mercilessly. There is a damp, musty smell in the air. You glance at the few other people lying asleep on the concrete floor below you. Staring through the bars of the cell window, you can make out just a bit of the gallows. Even though the darkness of the evening has not quite yet given into the coming dawn, the site of the hanging post instantly serves as a reminder of the reason you are here in the first place. You are a colonial soldier that was captured - along with a few of your fellow soldiers - during a foiled sneak attack on the British Army. You have been captured by the British and are sentenced to execution and you must escape from the cell before

I take off my hazmat suit and walk the gravel road leading to my house. I crawl under a fallen tree into a ditch. It is the 10 o’clock gathering shift. If they find me i’ll be sent to the ongoing war with South America. I hear footsteps growing load so I stay still. until they stop right above me. “Spread out! We’re low on recruits,” One says. He might be the sergeant. Three sets of footsteps hed in different directions. I crawl out slowly until hands grab my legs and pull me out. “I got one!” The man screams. I take a jar from my pocket and throw it at my leg. My pants glow yellow. The man's hands have separated from his body. He falls back. Frantically he calls for

The day started as another usual on Forward Operating Base (FOB) Zangabad. I had woken up to ensure that my men had all of their sensitive items on them and report to my Squad Leader that they did. On that day we were heading out to T.I. 2, a desolate array of Hesco barriers set up as an Afghan Uniformed Police (AUP) Checkpoint. It was our Company’s responsibility to partner with the AUP down there to help protect T.I. 2 so that they can conduct their own patrols. It was located roughly a thousand meters south of Fob Zangabad, and about five hundred meters east of the town of Gerandi. Gerandi was the stronghold of the Taliban in that area, so T.I. 2 was key to disrupting their operations in the surrounding area. So it was vital that we helped secure it for the AUP and watch the any activity coming out of the town from our guard towers and RAID camera.

In order to progress in this analysis, I decided to interview an individual who has remained next to me throughout my entire life; someone who ardently encouraged me through periods of excel and stagnation. There was, in reality, only one person who I strived to speak to: my mother. Before commencing this discussion, I anticipated numerous astounding facts about her; my mother rarely talked about her years in Vietnam - presumably due to the Vietnam War and its chaotic nature. Therefore, late Friday when twilight was approaching, I interviewed my mother and received some peculiar information, which disclosed fragments of her life. It became apparent that my mother strived to become a schoolteacher or an architect; however, due to the war, she could not continue

The past few weeks have been full of surprises! It turns out I had malaria. I couldn't walk a single step, and I would gag at the smell of food. I was kept at a rich family's plantation named the Jackmans. They had plenty of slaves and the father of the family was a rebel. One day he came over and spoke to me about how the Confederate soldiers were going to get repeating rifles. They were just like Lieutenants Orff’s gun! If the rebels were to get these dangerous guns the war would last at least another five years! I was surprised at how the Jackmans treated their slaves. They were so nice to them that I felt bad for taking them away as a Union soldier. Heifer then came to the Jackmans to pick me up to go back to camp. While I was at camp, I had the

Today marks the 60th anniversary of me being stuck in this cave. I’ve gone 60 years without food and water; I should be dead. The monster inside me is somehow preserving my body. I don’t want to live forever; I wish I didn’t sacrifice myself for her. I can hear the outside world going on about their day as if nothing happened. I can tell today is sunny and about 80 degrees, but I do not know for sure since I am trapped underground. I can hear the footsteps of small children above me. One girl, I believe her name is Courtney, is yelling to her sister, Natasha to help her move the boulder that keeps me trapped down here. I hear a loud bang and sunlight from the outside world rushes into my underground world. The heat from the rays fill the room

Blasting out my classroom door, I sprinted toward the playground to secure my position on the swings. It was the first day of recess that week; it had rained heavily for almost three continuous days beforehand. Heavy downpours are extremely common in South Florida, therefore my classmates and I were accustomed to the damp grass and soggy sand. As we engaged in one of our classic games of hide-and-seek, I quickly dashed over to my favorite hiding spot, a narrow grass trench, approximately three to four feet deep. To my horror, the trench wasn’t there anymore. I froze abruptly in my tracks as my eyes widened in shock to witness the trench completely flooded with murky yet sparkling water. Still in disbelief, I was immediately tagged, ending my chances of becoming hide-and-seek champion. However, that trivial pond of water was able to create a lasting impact on my life.

I can hear guns pelting, bullets scything, choppers circling and the loud explosion of Torpex; a pitch no instrument could produce. This is my duty; my sacred struggle. I reach for my rifle, there are many like it but this one is mine, my rifle is my best friend, it is my life. I must master it, as I must master my life. Without me, my rifle is useless. Without my rifle I am useless. I must fire my rifle true, I must shoot straighter then my enemy who is trying to kill me, I must shoot him before he shoots me, I will. Before