Bunker Hill Essay

village in Ukraine, he was, a a village idiot. During WWII he saved six souls. Hiding Jews in his secret bunker he defied his neighbors and the German soldiers, risking his life in the process. It wasn 't all that easy though. At one point his neighbors found out about the Jews and went there with guns. One woman died and it weighed on Anton. He spent the next few weeks working on a new bunker. The Jews he held left for a bit and wandered to a farm where they stayed only one night. They came back

Most people would find being led into an underground bunker on a stormy night scary. Not me. Things I could explain away and define with data didn’t frighten me. That was why I kept silently reciting facts to myself, as I descended deeper and deeper below street level. The bunker was a relic of the Cold War, built as protection in a time when people thought nuclear missiles were around every corner. On the surface, the building claimed to house an optical supply store. That was a front. Not scary

mountain side. It was mid-summer but there was still snow all over the place. In fact there had just been a blizzard. But that’s what the weather was like here in northern Russia. Agent 001 had scarcely made it out of the flaming Indian base when the hills echoed with gun shots. He had accomplished the main part of his mission, destroying secret files that contained nuclear launch codes, but the part of getting away without getting killed was going to be the hard part. As John opened the balcony door

“The Hills Like White Elephants” is a short story that is about an American man and a girl called Jig. They are sitting at a table outside a train station, waiting for a train to Madrid. While they wait they order drinks and have a heated ongoing conversation over whether or not Jig will have an operation that would be of great significance to their relationship. “The Hills Like White Elephants” by Ernest Hemingway has two important symbols in the story, the hills and the drinks both of which

The glacial erratics represent the beginning of human population of the America’s and the beginning of traditional culture, and the rocks carry with them the essence of the spirit of all those years. In honour of the truth and reconciliation act, this essay has an ode to healing by walking the land and, more specifically, reconnecting with Mother earth. I am not a religious person. I am not a spiritual person even in my own mind. And I do not even know if I believe if there is or is not a god. But

Aaron Hines, a freshman at Fairmont State University, says that one of his fondest memories of childhood is when his grandfather decided that the family should purchase cows to add to the family farm. Aaron, his grandfather, and other members of family spent an entire summer building two fences to keep the cows in the yard. Many mistakes, along with memories, were made during the process but by the end of the summer, the fence was successfully constructed. Hines, an 18 year old student who loves

cold December day in 2014, I found myself snowboarding down the small and very icy hill of Great Bear. On this chilly day there were very few people riding up the very bright red chair lift. As the very few that were there went down the hill you could hear as skis or snowboards slice through the thin layer of ice. From the Chair lift I can see everything on the hill and around the are.I was carefully examining the hill and the area they call the “ Terrain Park”. Little did I know this day would make

Gravity hills allow all types of objects to travel uphill. What are they? How do they work? If you park your car at the bottom of these roads, then place it in neutral, your car will begin to travel upward. The same process works for water, tennis balls, pop cans or basically anything. Gravity hills seem like a dream come true, but this is all just smoke and mirrors, an optical illusion. The discoveries of these hills happened very gradually. There was no specific time or place. Every hill has their

“Well, clean up and get ready for bed” She replied, washing vegetables in the basin and lighting a fire under the soup. After hearing that scream come from the house on the hill, Al was too scared to venture far for quite a while. He would however, often pear into the distance and try to see the house, perched atop that hill. All this was when Al was only 8 years old. Now, being 13 and in seventh grade, he got brave enough to wander over near to that house again. This time, it was different. The

Living in Colorado means that skiing and snowboarding is a big part of their culture, especially since we are lucky enough to live so close to the Rocky Mountains. Surprisingly enough, I never had the opportunity to snowboard or ski in my entire life. I did not have the chance since I was raised in a Peruvian household that was never formally introduced to any snow activities. Peru does not get much snow which exempts their culture from activities such as skiing and snowboarding. When I was searching