My Hero's Last Battle-Personal Narrative

A heroes journey To be a hero. No more does it take a brave knight draped in armor raving his sword at a fire breathing dragons to be a hero. To be a hero can be as simple as changing up from something you've been use to struggle a little bit but then rock it afterwards. Hero’s live amounts us everywhere. Here I will take you through one of my favorite hero journey stories.

The American Revolution marked the history of many heroic events that immaculately stand as true inspirations for the generations to come in the United States. Even today, the gallantry of a few soldiers that won independence for the country is not only kept in the hearts of the people but run in the American blood to demonstrate acts of valor at times of war and hardships. One such story recorded in the history dates back to 1776, about a sixteen-year old juvenile, Joseph Plumb Martin, joined the Rebel Infantry and recorded his tribulations about forty-seven years in a memoir titled as “A Narrative of a Revolutionary Soldier”. The book mainly focuses on the sufferings through the tough situation he went through.

A Narrative of a Revolutionary Soldier, Some of the Adventures, Dangers, Sufferings by Joseph Plumb Martin, is a collection of tales starting from when he was just a young boy at the age of seven and quickly goes through his childhood on the farm with his grandparents on his mother's side. Mr. Martin describes his memories from a much later stage in his life at the age of 70 in the year 1830. This is the tales of the crippling weather conditions, terrible living conditions and war stories told by a young enlisted soldier during the war. Mr. Martin was born to a preacher and his wife in 1760 in western Massachusetts. The story begins when he was just a young boy who was sent to live with his grandparents on a farm.

I picture myself in the battle called the antietam battle and we was facing the gettysburg i figure that it was going to be a great and tough one but we the antietam out number them we played smart, we dropped them one by one silently headshots , they didn’t know why there man was leaving so quickly they stopped and said wait a minute why our group is getting small ? One of the leaders said. I was a sniper man taking them out the good thing is they didn’t hear any gunshots all they saw was there man lying on the ground with blood on their skin one of their men was down the war lasted for a couple of weeks this is why the war didn’t last long like the other war did. 1(we had more men than they did) 2.

Dawkins 1 Deja Dawkins Dr. Edward Lee History 212 28 February 2016 Lewis David L. When Harlem Was in Vogue. New York: K, 1981. Print. Oxford paperbacks; Oxford paperbacks.

NHD Outline *primary* (paraphrase) Introduction We had on the plantation an overseer, by the name of Austin Gore, a man who was highly respected as an overseer proud, ambitious, cruel, artful, obdurate. Nearly every slave stood in the utmost dread and horror of that man. His eye flashed confusion amongst them. He never spoke but to command, nor commanded but to be obeyed.

The Mississippi never freezes over. I guess that’s why everybody claimed it to be a miracle. I was already missing the Beautiful City by the time my new leather boots set foot on the frozen river. Months before the journey Momma was already sewing us new clothes and saving her coins to purchase us boots from the tailor. Leaving Nauvoo, was one of the hardest things I’ve done.

The taste of salt stings as it drips into the open wound of my lip. He hit me, and he hit me hard. The stinging sensation is slightly satisfying. These are the last bruises, the last cuts, and this is the last nose bleed. The thought of all of my pain and sadness ending causes a weak smile to creep upon my face.

His muscles under my bare legs tensed and flexed as he ran to the woods over the ocean of grass. I remember the blinding sunlight, the smell of the morning, and the sound of my broken mother as I clung to his long mane. The wind blew the tears from my eyes as we raced towards the woods. I never heard the gunshot, I just remember it like a punch in my shoulder blade, with the nasty sting following. When the bullet tore in to my back, all the pain from that day suddenly welled up from the depths of my stomach and surged in my throat and I let out a primitive howl of my

Do you ever just feel like ripping someone limb from limb and tearing into their flesh? Oh, of course you have. My urge to do so continues to grow, stronger and stronger every day. Ever since I bit that little girl, white padded walls are all I see.

It was the subject of the only determined resistance I made in all the wretched years’,” (page

Admiring the world for the last time, I accept my fate. Two guards come in the cells. Chaos breaks as mother is torn away from son, wives torn from husbands, brothers and sisters separated from each other. Those that were left were weeping. As we begin walking, we try to fight back but reinforcements come in.

The narrative follows the adventures of a young, brave warrior, as he conquers every challenge with his bare hands; seeking nothing but fame and glory until the very day he dies. Through this work of literature, the lost world of the Anglo-Saxons can be uncovered, and their past culture and concepts of heroism can be revealed.

So many men have tried to kill me, I don't remember all their names.” she said walking towrds him “I have been sold like a broodmare. I've been chained and betrayed, raped and defiled.” she talked clenching her jaw starting to talk through gritted teeth “Do you know what kept me standing through all those years in exile?” “Faith.”

That have a father kill 'd, a mother stain 'd, / Excitements of my reason and my blood,/ ... My thoughts be