The Skirmish-Personal Narrative

War Story- Personal Narrative Finally we got a well deserved break from what seemed like our endless marching. As we stopped pain shot up my left leg like a bullet. I looked automatically to my right. Nobody was there. My best friend Simon would usually stand there, as he had in the war before, I could imagine the grin on his face. The images of all those years ago started to play in my mind… It began when we were assembled in the safety of the trench. Then we heard those dreaded words that can make a man throw up with fear for his life. “Go! Over the top men, go!” I froze, not breathing, not even blinking I was paralysed, standing there motionless, my legs as solid as Then, turning my head again I saw Simon dive to my aid. He did not utter a

As a former company intern, the possibility of returning to Targeted Victory to work with the client strategy team serves as the ideal situation for both the company and I. The experience and training that I gained at Targeted Victory, in the year that I was there, has been one of the most insightful work periods of my life. Now as the opportunity to return to the company presents itself, I see no better move than to return to the company that taught me and invested in me while I still relatively new to the political arena.

Back to the Past 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.

I can not begin to tell you about what I have seen over the past three days. When the battle began on July 1st I never would have imagined how many men would be wounded or killed. Makeshift hospitals had to be made for all of 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

I sat down at the computer in my house upstairs, the very computer still up there that I still make books on. Orange and red leaves were scattered aimlessly across the green and brown grass. It was right after the school day. Just the beginning of the final year at

Paola Progris Riport Dec 17- Ive stayed at the warren home for one month now. the peupl are very kind to me always looking after me right and never making a fuss when i mess up. but i have yet to make any friends. today we were in the art room

As he sat by the huge maple tree, his he thought about the different guilds and how they might be like. What it might be like to be an apprentice to a scribe, spending long hours copying down scripts and painstakingly long hours of study, he shivered at the thought. He could not cook to save his life. Indeed, if he were starving in the wilderness with everything one would need to cook a five course meal, he would probably make a concoction whose chemical reaction would kill him the instant he swallowed it. Just his luck. No, the only thing he could imagine being was a warrior. The battles, the glory, the friendship and trust. Yet, for some reason that he knew not, whenever he thought of being a knight and a warrior, it seemed clouded, as if

Melee combat is extremely dangerous; when blades clash, someone nearly always dies. They say you’re either really good and they die, they’re really good and you die, or your both are really good and you both die. I’ve found myself engaged in combat will talented and well trained individuals. The results of past battles have scarred me immensely, and have contributed to my physical decline. Ironically, I was at my worst when I was a traditional fighter without access to the modern weapon systems of Tyria.

I woke up to the smell of rotting flesh and decaying corpse. I pushed myself up from the green moss. I turned to look back at the scene I was once in. There were two lankard soldiers they looked like they were in their older thirties. Both had gunshots to their chest and slashes at their necks a traditional death mark of the rebels. I laughed to myself as I thought of the pathetic ambush they tried to pull on me. It was about 1:00 am when I went to hunt some deer for preparation of my promotion to 2nd in command. Before I could even get into the forest of Glade two of the soldiers came up to me and tried to fight me. I took them both out within a minute with my small pistol and knife. "Damn" I thought I still need to find a deer. I picked up

After having a great understanding on the Israeli/Palestinian conflict and learning about the psychology of war, I can proudly say I’m a liberal. This foundation was first planted in me after reading the Melian Dialogue. In fact, I knew I was a liberal the moment I read this: “If we are on friendly terms with you, our subjects would regard that as a sign of weakness in us, whereas your hatred is evidence of our power. Those who preserve their independence do so because they are strong, and that if we fail to attack them it is because we are afraid” (Thucydides 2). To a realists this would make sense, but to a liberal it’s baffling. It makes no sense to even think of International Law in that aspect, and the absence of cooperation is prolonging

Some times in our lives we will face big obstacles. Some we will overcome but some will stick with us forever. There will be many people that come and go in and out of our lives, some will leave a mark and some will not faze us. But the ones that leave a mark are the ones that could affect us our whole life.

Two days later; the time for preparation finally ended and I knew I was ready for the fight. Before the fight we were to be told the rules and who we would be fighting to move on. The first person I was fighting was a lot smaller than me and I knew this was going to be easy for me.

I sit in my bed, eyes focused on the television. The world is blocked out. All I know is do not look away from the screen. I hear the sounds of an active battlefield.

“Stop, Rose!” The shrill scream cut the air like a knife cutting all the way through my heart.