Ww1 Personal Narrative

August 6th, 1945. It was just an ordinary day. I woke up early this morning to help a friend move some things. Everything was well until I saw the light. I plunged myself between two large rocks, no questions asked. When I was able to get a glackr of what has happened I saw nothing but destroyed homes and dust. I’ve never seen so much blood, it was unbearable. A lady and her injured boy came my way and I couldn't help but help them and take them to a shelter to get help. As I looked over the city, a thick black smoke filled the air. Then the thought hit me, what about my family? Immediately after I ran to search for my family. On the way to search for them I began to feel guilty. How could all these people be hurt, injured or even dead,

Meanwhile, a specific sergeant tried to make my life harder. This sergeant enjoyed agonism which “occurs among those who enjoy fighting for its own sake and who perceive trading insults as a type of game” (p.21). I constantly tried to filter out the words being filled in my head, but my internal dialogue had been so negative and judgmental for so long I really believed the bad things. I could not and did not understand that I was good person with many good characteristics. I was fighting 2 wars in a combat zone, one against terrorists in the desert and the other inside my head.

I am Ella Karcewski reporting to you on this gloomy Spring evening, hoping that this war may soon be over. I am currently experiencing a day that I will never forget. The images that I am seeing, and the heartbreaking pain that I am feeling will never be erased from my naive mind. I feel nearly speechless and am saddened for those drastically affected by this war. I am encountering a tragedy as soldiers and horses alike are collapsing to the ground, screams of pain coming from their courageous bodies. Pouring rain is drenching horses and soldiers, and darkness is curtained over the gloomy sky. Ominous clouds fill the atmosphere above, and it seems that the sun wouldn’t dare peek out on this bellicose April day in 1915. All of this French territory

The meadow near the Western Front was nothing compared to the vast fields of the prairie back home. There, in what seems like another lifetime, was a harvest full of life, colour, and promise. Here, there was only death and harshness. Trevor, our Commander, had once described the scenery of these fields in France before the chaos. He had said it was filled with little red flowers and high green grass. After three years of fatalities and rain, the scene shifted to represent the misery. There was no colour here. Our uniforms that had once been a deep green were now covered with dried mud. The scene before me was bleak. The sky was gray; as it had been since the first day we made camp in these trenches. The ground was muddy with small pools of

It is about 6 o’ clock in the morning, and we are in the rest trenches due to continuous firing from a rifle gun and a machine gun. It’s been going on for approximately four hours. There is a short silence and another splutter of about 20 rounds. I turn to my side while sitting in the trench and in doing so, I dislodge some dirt from the side of the trench which of course falls into my ear and mouth. I am going to take a nap, but, I will be fully dressed because the situation I am in demands for it.

All is going very bad for us in the trenches. No one was really prepared for what this war has brought us. The war has many factors that are very terrible and for most, unbarable. I can not think of a time where I have been more scared.

12th March 1915: The day hadn’t started out differently to any other day. I had just been out to milk the cows and feed the calves. As I was walking back to the farmhouse for breakfast, I met Dad, who had come back from the markets. He stopped the truck beside me and wouldn’t look me straight in the eye. That was when I knew there was something wrong. He wordlessly passed a brown envelope out of the truck window. “GOVERNMENT OF NEW ZEALAND” was emblazoned in bold red print across the front. My heart lurched, constricting my throat. As I opened it, my worst fear was confirmed. In small lettering it announced, “Mr Michael Jones, we need you to protect our country.”

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

It was mid-October and in the twenties, because it was October as was I am finishing my route. As I biked the town seemed so beautiful. I like this job because it helps me get away. I had woken up with Abelard screaming about friends lost in the war. Jacob had to come over help him. Jacob was a friend of the family and was also referred as an hyphenated American. The two had been bullied at the start of the Great War long before it came to America.

“Just another day at the office” my Sergeant said. It was June 3rd, 1944, we were preparing for one of the biggest missions of the century. We would be named the 101st Airborne Division and it would be one of the worst turning points in my life. We were training for over a year for this day. We had to act fast because it was right before D-Day.

The great man tinkered with his little motor. He worked in an eerie silence. The echoes of metallic tools reverberated through the area. The workshop was very spacious, a large opened room with several cluttered work desk scattered about the area. Loose pages littered the tile floor, stretching from wall to wall; illustrated with the man's genius rantings.

It is now the end of the war and I feel that I have changed a lot over the course of these five years. At the beginning of the war I was a small, boy who loved to go to school and listen to Shad’s lessons. My top priority was learning and then helping my mother on the farm. (Hunt, 13) Once my brothers and Shad left for war my family was divided, with Bill on the Confederate side and everyone else on the Union side. (41) As the war goes on and Shad stops being my teacher I don’t like school as much as I did before. My father has a heart attack and I need to step up to help my family more. (91) The most important thing to me now is making sure my family is all right, school is enjoyable but not as important. Getting letters from my John, Eb,

Living in this time period is a very hard thing to do. World War I brought a lot of changes, some of them were good, and some were not so good. I was a nurse during World War 1. I helped injured soldiers heal quickly so they can go win our freedom. I served the U.S Army Reserve. My name is Nurse Helen Fairchild.

It wasn't until now that I discovered that working with my peers and collaborating ideas makes everything so much easier. In all my years here at visa I never really liked to share and collaborate so instead I would just do everything on my own and it would be a hassle because I’d struggle. Then Came up a project that I had a really big interest in since my younger years. In my history class we were in the World War 1 unit. This Unit was brought up to my attention by Mr. Dewaele because he knew I wanted to join the military and I was so passionate about this unit because I'd take a camo backpack to school and he would pretend that my backpack wasn't there because it was camoflauge. Mr. Dewaele would rely on me when it would come to military

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.