Personal Narrative: My First Vietnam War

After war hit, virtually everything was deteriorated. In a four-mile radius from where I stand, not a single architecture except for the government buildings and makeshift shops are still structurally sound. Families are forced to survive, father's craft shelters for their families out of the detritus that remains. Children, including ages of even six years, sleep deprived due to labor, desperately attempt to rest on empty, dented, bed frames. The only people that have real, formal shelters are the aristocrats that pay hundreds of thousands of dollars to hire a room in a government shelter and the government families.

I am so sorry that you have to go through all this. As I was reading your letter I saw that you did not want to show any of your “pain” and or shout to Margot, Van Daan, Dussel and dad, I do not think that is the best of your ideas I feel that they should know how you feel. And tell them everything that they caused for you. Even if they do scream all the more. You shouldn't just go by how they feel about you when your quiet or when you talk. Honestly, I think they are just jealous of you. But there's something I have never told anyone but since I feel all of your pain.I haven't told anyone Ever. I feel that I can finally tell you what happened when I “disappeared” last year. Well, I never disappeared I was on a trip to California, well I had just gotten a job at a

They were everywhere we went. We ran down the dark alley. They were right behind us. We turned down another alley only to find a dead end. They were already walking towards us, blocking the only exit. We were surrounded. There was nothing we could do. We were out of ammunition and had no other weapons. I stood in front of the group ready to protect them at all costs.

I gradually slowed from a run to a walk before coming to a complete stop. I started to listen to my heart instead of my mind as it was corrupted by a fear so profound that it made my blood run cold every time the thought arrived in my head. I never should have left my platoon. It was a mistake. They had always been there for me even when I didn’t think I needed them, but now when they needed me I let them all down. I knew I was weak and that’s why I had run away but it wasn’t my fault that I was here. It wasn’t my decision but the government and its conscription policy. What did the government know about fighting in a war? Why don’t they allow any of their children fight instead of someone else’s? I turned around and started heading back deeper into the jungle that I had come from.

Question One: Describe the community you lived in, or what your hometown was like? Did you notice any change after the war began?

In May of 2007 I was a recently promoted Specialist with 20 months in the Army and 11 months in Iraq. I was assigned to B Company, 5th Battalion, 20th Infantry Regiment; a member of the 2nd Infantry Divisions 3rd Stryker Brigade Combat Team. As part of President George W. Bush’s “Surge” our 12 month deployment was extended to 15 months. We had spent the previous months moving around Iraq to support multiple areas of operation (AO), but in March of 2007 had moved to the volatile city of Baqubah, where we had begun the long and arduous task of clearing the city of insurgent forces.

All of my problems began and ended with a book and a statue. I was currently surrounded by dozens of giant carnivorous lizards. This explanation may be slightly confusing for you, so please allow me to tell my story.

I sat in my room bored out of my mind. My last mission was a few days ago and since I’ve only flown once. I was getting the itch. I needed to fly. To kill. To do something other than sit here on my ass and deal with drunk French and American soldiers every night. Being the first woman to fly and the only woman soldier in this war, I had a hard enough time dealing with their horny, egotistical men comments. I don’t need them drunk too. I got up and walked to my brothers room.

Six wrestling mats mantled the floors, three in each of the two gymnasiums. A battle was being fought on every one, each and every soldier using all of the weapons in his arsenal. The hands of the victors were raised while the heads of the defeated drooped. The bleachers were packed with spectators. In the thin corridor that separated the two gymnasiums, people shuffled through, walking, talking, and laughing. Wrestlers occupied the indoor track that encircled the upper floor of the gymnasiums. Awaiting their next battle, the warriors prepared their minds and bodies.

thump Thump THUMP BOOM, “GET UP SOLDIER THIS IS A BATTLE GROUND NOT A BED Thomas blitzfield get up and shoot the dang nazis”! Major strongmen shouted at thomas who was knocked out by the motor that exploded near him. As he stumbled to his torn boots he gets knocked down again but this time by one of his squad members rien ” you should know better to stand up in a fight with a German tank”. Thomas had completely forgotten that there was a tiger tank involved,to be honest he had forgotten he was in a battle in the first place. As he slowly came to his senses (mind)and knelt on the ground instead of standing on his feet. He and 34 other soldiers were trapped against a army of 200 soldiers with much bigger fire power then them that was not including

It all started in February of 2003 when the Commander in Chief, Jeorge W. Hush initiated the threats against Saddam Hussein. It was my first unit, the first time I got to experience what the “real” Army was like outside of a training environment. We were the “The Deuce,” 542nd Maintenance Company. Things were hectic leading up to this point, and we’ve done a lot of training within our units. We were ready for war, or so we thought. All we had to do was fly.

I interviewed my grandma, Diane Thompson, about what the American Dream was for her in her 20’s in the 1970’s. In 1970 she was 21 and in 1979 she was 30. Diane was a young female adult.

The monument that I visited is the war monument in the middle of the round about on Liberty and 4th Street. This monument was erected by the American Legion California Post No. 377 on May 30th of 1937. This monument was then restored and dedicated in 1989 and 1990. This monument thanks those who served in all wars and commemorates a few who passed away.

It was in my hometown, when the disaster happened; the smoke has yet to leave my nightmares. Since I was a little boy, my family fought with each other. It was not uncommon, though, for families to fight, I mean at that time the country was completely divided. We were in a troubled time; families were depressed by conflicts in Vietnam. The Vietnam War was just starting and nobody knew how big the issue would become.

It was August,6 7:45 am 1945 in Hiroshima, Japan. Logan is walking around town. It is a normal August day (at least he thinks). While he is walking he sees some soldiers strolling around town on patrol. It’s 8:10 now he looks up into the crystal blue sky. He sees a plane he has never seen it before. The soldiers that were walking by looked up too and yelled RUN! Logan looks up again something drops from the plane.