War takes more than just lives, it takes your soul, it slowly makes it so we lose our humanity bit by bit, until we resemble nothing more than animals. Our wits and emotions worn away slowly, by the everyday reality of savage violence that is war, until we ourselves feel like the war has seeped not only into our reality but into our souls.
I see no end to this, I will die in this war, and I know that I cannot go back to the life that I once had, because the man that returns will not fit the life that he once had. Battle rages on, I feel numb, as I roll along the ground, the bullets whistling through the air above me as I scramble for cover. My body aches as the tension wreaks its havoc, sweat pours down my face as my body struggles against the tropical heat.
Captain Basilone screams for us to keep moving, to run into the fire instead of away from it. I scream in frustration as my muscles burn, the weight of my pack and gun weighing me down as I struggle up climb the hill, the Germans’ machine guns firing down on us. Mortars explode all around me, every jarring impact vibrating up my legs as I struggle to keep my feet.
All around me, my comrades fall dead, blood spraying like mist into the air. I rush at my enemy, death’s jaws nipping at my heels; I fire back, my aim true as the machine gun man falls away, dead. My comrades yell in triumph, as we rush up the hill, our machine gun fire painting our enemy with all the shades of red. Our bloodlust ignited by the sense that victory was near and for the victorious dead that will never rise again.
Weapons in the American Civil War The American Civil War is known to be one of the bloodiest wars in history. Significant advances in weapon technology contributed to the unprecedented carnage. All types of weapons were being invented including side arms, shoulder arms, and artillery. Surveying the origins and design of only a portion demonstrates fire power had outstripped battlefield tactics by ...
My pace quickens as I come within jumping distance of the Germans’ foxhole, I unleash a savage roar as I leap powerfully, I unsheathe my dagger in the air, my machine gun strung around my neck, held by its strap. I land heavily on my feet, three men surround me, I stab one of them in the neck, and he gurgles as blood floods into his windpipe. I pull my dagger out, its edge wet with the spills of war as I swing it in a huge arc down on the second man’s shoulder, his body quivers beneath my grip as I kick him away.
The third man stands before me. His fear is obvious; his body shakes uncontrollably as he struggles to load his gun. I watch him as he does and realize that he is just a boy. Suddenly, I find that all my bloodlust is gone, the fire of murder extinguished by innocence. The boy starts crying as he drops his gun and magazine to the floor. He frantically lunges to the floor, picking up his gun off the ground, peculiarly I find myself smiling.
As I realise that the boy reminds me of my brother, his clumsiness accentuated by his awkward manner. I clean the blade of my dagger on the sleeve of my shirt, the blood leaving a dark stain on the cloth of my sleeve. As I re-sheathe my dagger, I hear Captain Basilone, ‘All units report!’ ‘All clear!’ I reply.
The shouts startle the boy, but his fear his gone, realising that I will not kill him. I walk cautiously towards him, holding my hands out, showing him that I am unarmed. I reach to take the gun and magazine from his hands, and he steps back in fear, but I smile at him to reassure him, and he smiles back. His smile…
His eyes seemed to glow a deep with a pure luminosity, his face smooth under his orangey yellow hair. My breath seems to catch in my throat as the boy suddenly becomes the splitting image of my brother. I take the gun and magazine from him, slowly showing him how to load the gun. I hand him back his gun and magazine as I step back and watch him, hope starting to grow in my heart, that maybe someday I might be able to return home, to see my family and to have one of my own.
How Milgram’s work is relevant to understanding behaviour of soldiers during war. Summary This report will use the work of Milgram to demonstrate an understanding of the implications of obedience. Briefly touch on some of the events throughout the Second World War in a military context today, and the relevance now. Show the implications of adhering to commands from figures of authority and the ...
The boy’s face changes, his eyes brimming with hate, as his hands moved expertly, manoeuvring the magazine into place. He smiles evilly at me, as I stare at him in horror. He laughs at me, seeming to curse me in German, as he aims his gun at me. My horror is replaced by fury, a fury so great I felt myself shake in anger, a savage roar catching my throat. The boy kicks me to my knees.
I pretend to lose my balance and fall, my hands flying to the dagger at my side. I feel myself pull it out, my grip tight around the hilt. The boy screamed at me in German, kicking my shoulders, I got up slowly feigning groans of pain. I roared savagely, the fire of my bloodlust made only more intense by the boy’s betrayal. I swung my dagger at his arm, my dagger cleaving through the boy’s shoulder, he cries in horror as he is absorbed by pain, his cries reverberating through my ears, as I close my eyes.
I grip the dagger with two hands, I opened my eyes, stepping over the top of him, I plunged the knife into the boy’s hearts his keening cries ending as he faded to black. I sat beside the boy’s body, his face peaceful, as he slumbers in death’s eternal sleep. I felt sorrow grip me as bitterness overwhelms me. Salty tears stream down my face, in my sadness, I hear the devil’s demons laughing at me, they whisper their insidious songs of praise. What have I become?
Statement of Intention Upon reflecting on this prompt, “It is the victims of conflict who tell us the most about conflict,” I thought about how often soldiers will do things that are so horrible and seem so animalistic, but at their cores every single soldier knows what it is to love, and knows what it is to be human.
Often internally, soldiers do not represent the external images that we see; this is represented in Paradise Road where Sergeant sings to Adrienne and we see that Sergeant Tomiashi is not an animal as we thought he was; they are human but in war, often in situations where it is death or life, them or the enemy; soldiers will do anything to survive, and eventually they find that the savage nature of war chips away at their humanity until what is left does not resemble what they once were.
War often leaves eternal scars, memories full of tragedy and murder that are often recurrent in the soldiers’ minds, though a soldier might come out of a war victorious, they leave a victim of conflict, forever scarred mentally, emotionally and physically. My intention thus, is that my story will be able to give readers an idea of what it is like to be scarred by conflict, and to prove to them that in conflict ultimately it is the victims who show us what is important in conflict.
British soldiers and civilians had high expectations of their government following World War 1, most of which did not eventuate. The soldiers needed understanding of their suffering and emotional pains of the war, while the British civilians felt that Germany’s reparations were highly important in the short-term. Employment was a significant issue to both groups, with the soldiers arriving ...
I have chosen to write in a creative piece, because I feel through a creative piece I am better able to depict the emotions and psychological state of a person. I am able to give readers a sense of what one would feel in war, and possibly give readers a sense of what it is like to lose one’s self in struggling to survive the conflict.
The language I have used is intentionally evocative, including a lot of metaphors, imagery and dramatic language which combines to create an effect. I have specifically written my piece without the use of overly complex language, because I believe that my use of short sentences helps to build tension; and is inherently more powerful than highly sophisticated descriptors could ever be. My narrative has been set in World War Two, in one of the many battles that the allies fought in during the period, against a vicious German enemy.
It is against such an enemy that I wanted my readers to imagine fighting against and to imagine how would they react, how far would they go to survive? My audience is the general public, specifically young adults and adults, who would understand the consequence of conflict and specifically war.