By midnight reports were coming into his CP of engagements with the Brigades scouts, they were repelled and even some were captured. To say the Soldier were surprised to find Marines here was an understatement. By two in the morning the forward elements of the Brigade had stumbled into one of the avenues of approach covered by the LAV-25’s, they opened up with their 25mm guns, shredding the advancing company that got caught. They quickly pulled back and…
"Hurry up! We gotta go. We are to bypass 3rd ID in Baghdad and take the northern part of Iraq."…
rescue mission operation. I even conducted an event training to where I participated in a Blackhawk Operation mission with the Army 12th Aviation Battalion and 55th EOD Team which EOD is a bomb squad, which every SWAT Team have in the civilian world in a police department SWAT. I had the chance to partake in a K-9 unit experience training.…
It is very frightening walking around the area because one can erupt and kill the soldier. “Kill him if he’s lucky. If he’s unlucky, he will be turned into a blind, deaf, emasculate, legless shell. It was not warfare. It was murder” (288). I never thought that being in the war was that intense. Everywhere people went, they have to look around for grenades, mines, guns, rifles, or even the enemy around because they would never know what or who would be shot first. One day, Caputo and his platoon planned to ambush the Viet Minh at a village near Danang. They were settled to fire at the Viet soldiers, but they saw many people trying to run away to a place to protect their children, they had their doubts. Even when they see the all these Vietnamese people, especially the innocent ones, see many deaths and injuries through the battle from their actions, all they have to do is face the truth and move on. When I read this, I thought about my family, when they tried to run away to safety. They saw many close family and friends die during the one in many battles that happened in the war, and it is tragic for me to see when they cry about it once it a…
Friday. T minus 15 hours till the last day of camp. The Saturday volunteer cancelled. My game plan was crumpled up and trashed. “Why hadn’t I thought of backup plan?” I asked myself, on the verge of pulling out my hair. I hadn’t taken into account all the variables and now I was receiving the repercussions. I had no idea becoming the Transportation Coordinator for a camp would be so stressful.…
The artillery were called in, and as days went on, many men died and almost triple that amount were wounded. In a very narrowed sense, the strategy in battle was likely not the best because rather than surround the enemy where they were on the other side of the hill, men were sent up the in teams, one behind the other. This meant that we were basically giving the enemy target practice, one wave after the other while the Viet Minh held their ground. The high number of wounded soldiers gives the hill its nickname because the men speculated that they were being turned into meat before each other’s eyes as they came up the mountain and were fired on. On the tenth day, “3rd Brigade overran the enemy bunkers and captured Hamburger Hill […] and attached units eliminated more than 500 enemy troops and seized caches of weapons and explosives” (Vowell et al).…
The narrative, The Driver’s Seat struck home for me because I just received my driver’s license this past May, 2015. I took time for me to actually drive and to become comfortable behind the wheel of a car. This piece of writing spoke to me and allowed me to review some of the identical thinking points that I went through while getting to the point of taking control of my dad’s car. The story effectively walked me through the trials of spirit and mental anguish that preceded me in taking hold of the vehicle with my dad as the co-pilot giving directions. This was the exact thing the driving instructor in The Driver’s Seat‘ taught the author. The routine of how to maneuver and throw caution to the wind- taking risks- to get the author over…
The My Lai Massacre occurred on the 16th of March, 19681. Lieutenant William Calley led the 1st Platoon of the Charlie Company. Captain Ernest L. Medina gave Lt. Calley orders and in turn Lt. Calley gave the ground troopers ours. A lot of us did not entirely agree with our orders however we could not argue. I did not know it at the time; however, Lieutenant Calley was under direct orders from Captain Medina2. We thought Lt. Calley would show some sort of mercy. We were all scared and wanted to help the people that were being slaughtered in Pinkville. On that day, there were no sightings of the Vietcong (VC).…
The 1st Battalion, 20th Infantry Regiment, 11th Brigade of the 23rd Infantry Division and Charlie Company suffered 30 attacks from the Viet Cong (booby-traps and land mines) causing many injuries and five deaths. The American army’s comeback was to attack the villages suspected of containing to Viet Cong. They were to burn houses, kill off livestock, spoil crops, and pollute wells so it would deny essentials to the Viet Cong and their supporters. The purpose of the massacre was to kill the people that were part of the Viet Cong. They believed everyone in the My Lai was either Viet Cong or Viet Cong supporters and that actual civilians would be away at the markets. The villagers hadn’t gone to the markets that day because they heard the shelling and…
But our naval might is about much more than cutting-edge technology. It’s about the Sailors who make up our force. It is about their ingenuity, their can-do attitude and fortitude in the face of hardship.…
Pow! Right smack in my forehead crushing my skull. The metal baseball bat knocked in my skull. It was a warm sunny day in the middle of the summer. Joey, my brother, was hitting tennis balls over my house. Little 10 year old me was playing in the yard and my brother purposely pushed me far away so he wouldn’t hit me. Oh how I was a stupid little kid. I was intrigued by what he was doing so I started wandering over to like how not knowing little kids do. As I approached my brother he was so focused on himself that he did not see me. When I finally reached him he had just set up to hit another ball. He hits the ball, but on his back rotation, the bat makes contact with my head. I fell hard on the pavement. Before I went unconscious I heard my…
When you are someone’s support system you take on multiple roles that indirectly deteriorate your self preservation. Being a listener or a shoulder to cry on, requires sacrifices that, in the moment, you do not even recognize as imposing. Voluntarily and willingly being there for someone begins with the unwavering doubt that you and your own problems cannot and will not prevail over your person’s immediate crisis. Depending on the duration of your duty, a somewhat selfish thought of inconvenience is bound to surface. But, that wave of retraction is almost always combatted by a riptide of dedication and loyalty that brings you back to sea, where all you can do is tread. In turn, the suppression of self regarding issues regularly comes with a layer of obligation and a sting of bitterness.…
Today we are having a day in bed. We were within 150 yards of the American trenches, and both sides were firing day and night, so you can tell we had a lively time, bullets flying in all directions. They made me duck a bit at first, but I soon got used to them, and did not take much notice after we had been there a few hours. Our squadron was lucky. We had three fellows and one officer wounded, but…
I always keep this poem and picture in my wallet. I take it everywhere with me because it means quite a lot to me in two very different ways. One of those ways is because it holds sentimental value. When I was younger I learned to read very late in life and I was always so embarrassed of that. My father knew that I was struggling and bought me the book, Where the Sidewalk Ends. It is a book full of poems and little pictures written by Shel Silverstein. I remember opening the book to ta random page, and it was the page with this poem. I then remember my dad asking me to read it to him. I was so uncomfortable, even thought I was just going to be reading to my dad. He gave me some words of encouragement, and even thought I was not able to read…
When I first stepped into Anderson High School as a freshman, I was exceedingly confident in myself. I played sports, had gotten good grades, and planned to have an amazing high school career. Freshman and sophomore year were a breeze. If I am being straightforward, I did not focus much on my schoolwork. I did what was required of me and got good grades, but I did not go above and beyond. I had always been told by upperclassman, “It only gets harder from here. Enjoy it while you can.” Now I realize what that means.…