He broke contact with his leg and looked across at the television, it appeared to be a war documentary. Now in front of him were the walls of the dirty trench he was cramped into. The gunfire was deafening as the man and his fellow soldiers cowered in the dark trench. The smell of gunpowder was almost as strong as the stench of death coming from all around. The man peered over the wall of the trench and saw a line of his soldiers advancing to their death as they were gunned down by the enemy, others were hiding behind trees, but there was no escape from war.
Jimenez raised the .45, but a Communist sharpshooter shot the pistol and it broke in half. Jimenez, unable to run, came towards Valdishiy, who sat him down, and began a long, boring lecture on the values of the late United Soviet Socialist Republic.. “AAAAAAUUUGHHHHHHH!!! COMMUNISM IS DRAINING MY LIFE SPIRIT! !” Jimenez staggered backwards, and passed out.
Tears splashed on your gun. Without having any choice, you squinted your eyes, pointing the gun towards your best friend, and “BOOM”! The bullet blasted from your gun and went right through your best friend’s heart. His eyes were bloody red and full of sorrow. He looked at you for one last time and smiled saying his last sentence," It 's not your fault, I was destined to die like this".
“You ought to keep your weapon at the ready if you intend to use it.” Red-faced, the King drew his blade, trembling with embarrassment as much as anger. For almost an hour, the reckless, unorganized attack continued, till the ground and bulwark lay covered with the dead and slippery with blood. After several blasts on goat horns, the Nagun slipped away, leaving the land behind them crawling with their pitiless wounded. Out of bowshot, they milled about restlessly. “What are they doing?” Dathon asked.
Alexander watched in agony as John Laurens was carted away, bleeding and groaning, on a ragged, stained stretcher. The battlefield scene around him was grotesque; enough to make grown men, trained soldiers even, vomit and turn green with its putrid sights, sounds, and smells. But Alexander Hamilton was focused on only one thing. “John?” Alexander called weakly. He felt his hand stretching towards the limp form, fingers groping the empty air in futile attempts to reach his friend.
When john was passing by he saw Mr. Bainbridge standing on a horse with a rope around his neck. At that moment John had to make a decision on whether to leave Mr. Bainbridge to his fait, or to intervene and try to save his life. As he approached a clearing he had made up his mind to try to save him. He picked up his rifle, aimed at the officer and shot, striking his target. He did not save Mr. Bainbridge because the sound of the gun scared the horse.
I swallow and Mykel chokes on his breath. “I think I missed a spot. Here, let me try again.” Mykel bursts into more tears, until he is reduced to a blubbering mess on the floor. Corruption or not, I stand up and launch myself towards them, absolutely no idea how i’ll somehow get us out of this. The man throws the machete at me, missing me by half an inch, and landing it into a skull resting behind me.
It is only then that the sniper reveals a softer side. Realizing what he has done and after watching his dead opponent fall to the ground from the roof of the building, he is “bitten by remorse”; “The lust of battle died in him”. It is clear that the sniper is weaker than initially described, and the reader becomes sympathetic even though he has just killed another man. Some textual evidence of the sniper’s opinion of war is stated, “His teeth chattered, he began to gibber to himself, cursing the war, cursing himself, cursing everybody.” The sniper has reached a breaking point, chosen by the author to communicate to the reader that even the most toughened human can fall apart in seconds. Taking another life is very hard on some soldiers, and many resort to drinking or other ways to attempt to take these instances off their minds, “Taking the whiskey flask from his pocket, he emptied it a drought.
December 2nd, 1944 - Belgium Forest 'The Battle of the Bulge ' I awoke to the deafening sound of gun fire in the distance, "Just another day," I said, I looked around to watch if anyone was there. "Mornin ' sunshine" said the Sergeant, "You 're on watch duty today, hope you don 't plan on going anywhere," He joked. I watched as the Sergeant began to wake the rest of the company. I quickly hurried, trying to find my gear, I grabbed my gun and rushed out of the fox hole. "Hey Sarge," I said, "wheres the watch tower you found yesterday?"
A thunderous, heart-stopping roar reverberates through my body. I thrash backwards, trying to distance myself from the beast. I’m about ready to accept my fate when I take in the sharp popping of a gunshot. One, three, seven shots it takes until the bear is dead. Triumphantly, Chuck and George march toward me, drenched and freezing.
I put my hand on the trigger and took a deep breath, then pierced his stomach with a bullet. Another fellow approached me with his sword in his hand and a menacing gleam in his eyes. With a quick pull of the trigger and no regrets I shot him in the chest. In the end, we were pushed back. I knew this was only the beginning of a difficult battle and boy, was I right.
I paused, because unoccupied terrain is always a sinister thing in a war. Suddenly a shot rang out, and I was hit in both legs by a sniper’s bullet. I threw myself into the nearest creator, and tied up the wounds with my handkerchief, having of course forgotten my field dressing. A bullet had drilled through my right calf and brushed the left (Junger
I distinctly tasted blood as he shoved me to the ground. I tried to catch myself from falling but was too weak to regain balance. As I lay there, nearly lifeless, my eyes widened when I heard the high pitched pleas for life in the near distance, I knew that this wasn’t the only soldier. I knew that I pull through and help those struggling citizens. A second soldier rushes through the door and is given commands to take me outback and pull the trigger.
The gunner of our jeep quit firing and yelled for me to hand him the m249 hanging on the rack. So i handed it to him and a bullet chain and he went to town in an instant, I almost felt as if he was enjoying this. But that being beside the point, he then quit firing and fell into the vehicle, he was hit in the left shoulder, barely missing his plate carrier. So Roman commanded someone to get back up top. So I took that role and grabbed the m249 and put a new chain in the chamber and peeked through the top.