Humanities
WWII Story
Like every story, we will start at the beginning. My name is Aaron Michels and I am 24 years old. I am a Lt. in the Devils Brigade, a sniper. My 6’7” height makes me tower over all the skinny white men in the USMC. When I’m not occupied, all I do is lift weights. I grew up in East St. Louis, Missouri with 5 sisters and no dad. The typical African-American story according to all the white men in my brigade. It’s racist but there is more to worry about in a time of war than a little racist hazing from people half my size.
The Devils Brigade is the highest group of special forces you can get into at the time. I am the only African-American in the brigade and also the only one over 180 pounds. I got in by getting the Medal of Honor in the Philippines against the Japanese. My mother wasn’t too happy about me being awarded for killing but the paycheck that followed calmed her nerves. The men always talk about how they are afraid of the Japanese but the only fear I have is not being about to support my family if I die. The methods the Japanese use don’t scare me, because all they are are just more ways to wipe out the enemy. The only part of the Philippines that bothered me was seeing my friends die from half a mile away and not being able to even say goodbye.
I have had the same rifle throughout my whole career. A M1903A1 Springfield which shooting a .30 cal round half a mile. I am known in the brigade for taking the best care of my weapon. Which is a good title considering all the other titles I could have for being the biggest man in the whole fleet of 10 ships we were stationed on. Going through traumatic events as a short kid in the poverty ridden streets of St. Louis made me learn to accept death as an old friend, as if he grew up with me. God has taught me that death is only another beginning. Even though I’m not that religious it’s always nice to have something to comfort you when you’re that far from home.
My thoughts were skewed as my closest comrade, First Lt. Delourace Gage Coleman approached me. She was the head nurse on the USS Atlanta. “Weekly check up Aaron.” she says with a slight Texan accent. I didn’t feel like responding due to the fact I was nervous about the invasion. “Are you nervous about the attack?” she asked right when I was thinking about the worst that could go wrong like arriving to the beach and getting pounded by .30 cals. “No I thrust the boys and they trust me.” I say with a sarcastic tone. My mommy always told me not to show weakness because then people take advantage of it, it’s human nature. I didn’t know how a nurse could take advantage of me, especially a friend, but I followed her advice anyways. “If anything were to go wrong, the fleet would be right behind us.”
I got done with my check-up as Clancy, not one of my favorite members of the brigade, passed me to go in as he says, “I hope she gives a full physical.” I stare at him and say nothing but my point get across to he should never say that again.
I head down to the mess hall to get some final grub before going to the personnel carrier. As I go into the cafeteria I see my team and we make eye contact, acknowledging that both of us are still living. The food they put on my plate was vomit straight from the hospital. I walk up to them when they are sitting down and some of the members invite me to sit down but I decline. Every mission we go on I like to eat alone before so I can think and be alone with my thoughts. I sit down on the cold but somewhat inviting seat. I start eating the notoriously bad food served on the Atlanta. My thought run about home, the mission, and how many people would miss me if I died. The thoughts make me second guess my physiological condition as if I were insane. But I guess we’re all insane then aren’t we. Then the order goes over the intercom for the Devil’s Brigade to Report to equipment check and load-up.
When I get there everyone is already half-way through cleaning their weapons so I should be ready before everyone else because I cleaned it this morning. I go over and check my kit for grenades, ammo, small medkit, wind instrument, and other essentials. Finally I look for a folded up picture picture of a mansion drawn in crayons. My 8 year old sister drew it and it reminds me of where I am now, the house we live in currently, and the dream my family has for us after the war.
We were ordered to go to the troop transports. We were standing there next to them getting called down in order. Of course I was in the back because I am a sniper but it didn’t matter because of how tall I am.
We set out and I know most of the people in the transport but that didn’t keep my nervousness at bay. Everyones hands were shaking like a small, scared puppy. The dew from a slight overcast made the mood serious. Our way to the beach not a word was said. The sound of the motor was humming like my mom used to do back home, but I needed to get my mind off that because that’s how people begin to panic. Everyone in the invasion force expected heavy beach resistance. But again no one said a word.
The ship suddenly stopped but we all knew what time it was. Before I had any time to react the door dropped and everyone started rushing out. This cause some to trip and fall to be stepped on by others. Luckily there weren’t enough people to injure the ones who had fallen. I stepped out onto the reef as the image of the beach came into view. The beach was surprisingly only about 20 yards long. I crouched immediately in the water when it got shallow enough, drew my sniper rifle, and waited for the .30 cals to start pounding the beach. Everyone in my squad did the same, but a single round was never fired. We sat there for 10, 20, 30 minutes but nothing happened. Surprisingly the smallest man in the brigade, a man named Tom Lessenger, moved first. He stood up with his weapon still drawn and started half walking half crouched towards the beach head. No one could even come close to understanding what was going through his head when he did this but at the same time people started doing the same. I was the last one to move as instructed in basic training because I am a sniper. Otherwise I would have been right up next to him. The brigade moved as one because if we live as one, we die as one. We knew each other which didn’t made us afraid to be right next to a friend as you both die.
The first men to set foot on the beach was the group of LMG (light machine gunners) which carried a gun that bailey any other brigade carried. The Johnson M1941 machine gun, which sent 600 of a .30 cal bullet down range a minute. A sharp looking but feared rifle. The Japanese were familiar with them being used in the Philippines. This is why the soldiers that carried these were ordered to go first onto the beach.
The second the LMGs hit the thick brush they stopped and crouched, scanning the brush. I finally regrouped with them and they did a headcount. We then were split up by squad and then proceeded to do our different tasks. My squad was 5 men which was comprised of a LGM, a shotgun, and two Tomson soldiers. The man with wielding the LGM was Tom Lessenger, again the smallest in the brigade but the bravest. The man with the shotgun was a man from Boston with a heavy accent, his name was Buz Smeeter. The two men with the Thompsons were Twins named Kennedy and Levi. They never spoke their last names but were still the leaders of the group and made joint decisions. These twins and I were the same rank (Lt.) but they still were deemed the leaders. Our mission was to go around the to the right side of the base to take them from multiple directions. This caused us to have the rout with the most traffic, suspectedly.
This trip was suppose to take 30 minutes but the first 30 second I broke a sweat because of the rough tropical environment. Like on the beach we had Tom with the M1941. He didn’t mind though obviously because he started humming Frank Sinatra. Levi and Buzz started small talk so this made Kennedy turn around and start talking with me.
“You’ve been the talk of the brigade.” he says as kindly as he can. “Whys that LT?” I say in a annoyed tone.
“Well, you are the only negro in the brigade and one of the few men to have the Medal of Honor and be alive. Also you are built as shit and everyone else is skinny and short.”
“LT my opinion is that my race doesn’t matter and I was only honored for doing what others would. I was just the person that happened to be put in that situation.” I tried to be less direct with this statement so it would be less personal and he wouldn’t get the wrong idea.
“Oh, I see. Well, are you scared of the Japs because I heard about your friend in the Philippines.” he said obviously trying not to be offensive.
I thought for a second then responded with, “The Japs are just another army. Just another way to eliminate the other side. They just have tactics most are not used to LT. I don’t give a shit if they are robots, I’m fighting them.”
This ended the conversation due to the seriousness in my tone. Suddenly I notice the humming had stopped. I looked forward and saw Tom with a 2 foot wooden spike through his throat. It had swung down from a tree and now was lodged in his neck. I saw this just as Levi bumped into him because he was facing backwards talking to Buzz. He turned to face what was in his path and he jumped back and screamed as he jumped back but kept screaming as he back farther and farther back. At this point, Tom had bled out and he was hanging from the spike. I looked down at me feet to see Levi in the fetal position screaming as tears rolled down his face.
We all stood there not knowing what to say. Kennedy, out of no where, grabbed Levi up off the wet ground and dragged him past his hanging comrade. This caused me to grab Buzz out of instinct and do the same.
We walked until we came to a small resting spot and we sat down. Immediately Kennedy smacked Levi hard and yelled, “PULL YOUR SHIT TOGETHER! IF YOU CAN’T OPERATE AS A HUMAN YOU WILL BE LEFT BEHIND!” This caused him to put a blank expression as if he wasn’t a human anymore. He stared at the ground. Kennedy turned to me and said,
“You need to go back and get his M1941.” I nodded and set on my way. As I walked I noticed we walked farther than we thought. I turned a slight corner and saw him 40 yards down through the brush still hanging. I walked over and found his gun in his hand still clenched tight. I had to pry it from his cold hand then I heard a shot echo through the trees. I started running back to the squad and I hear the sounds of more shots cracking through the trees.
I came up on the situation and my squad was hunkered behind a large log and rounds were smacking the from one after another. I was about to go join them when Levi saw me and yelled at me to stay back. He ordered me to go to the large rock about 10 yards to my right and post my sniper up. I ran to the rock and started climbing. There was a couple slips but eventually I made it up. I set my sniper on a small curve and started scanning. I then saw 5 Japs set up like a firing squad. They set up Type 89 LMGs. These were used as small anti-aircraft guns but were still giving it all they have. I took my first shot at a larger man but missed because my scope wasn’t dialed in. It only took me a couple moments to adjust the scope and take a more accurate shot. They train us to shoot the men in the back first so the ones in the front don’t know what happening.
I tuned in on the same man in the back which was a kind of big fellow as if he’d live on the St. Louis food street. Though this wasn’t time to think of home the thought still sprinted through my head I squeezed the second round of and it hit him right above his right eye killing him instantly. I pulled the bolt action and focused on the second guy. The shot rang out and ripped through his lower jaw and then through his throat. This caused commotion and the three other Japs saw their friend die right next to them. They paused for a second then ended up running into the woods. My remaining squad popped up from behind the log and walked down range carefully. They got to the Type 89s that were set up on stands, then proceeded to disable them. Levi then signaled me down.
“Good shit Lieutenant.” Levi says with a small stutter. I say nothing and nod just taking in the fact I ended two mens lives.
We move in silence until the airfield, due to the fact those three soldiers could be looking for revenge with us. We come up on the airfield and see Japanese men running all around it. We get the call on the radio that all teams have been waiting for us. The signal for the charge was artillery strikes from the beach and planes bombing their group of grounded planes. After all these strikes the infantry would move in. I was ordered to to a big cliff above the base with the snipers from other squads.
It takes me 5 minutes to climb but worth it. I had a clear view of the whole base and the island was beautiful. “You’re late Lieutenant, fall in like a good soldier for once.”
I line up with the 30 other men with different sniper rifles. The artillery started pounding the base and the planes were on their way. They did a bombing run on the grounded plane but one got away and took off. Surprisingly it didn’t fight he planes in the air it just flew away.
The artillery finally stopped and we were ordered to fire on any Jap target. All 30 men started firing on the base suppressing and wiping out anything that moved. They tried to fire on us but their bullets dropped before getting to us. I was aimed in on a window shooting at running target when I heard a small humming sound like an engine. I turn around and see that plane that got away coming at the cliff from behind. My heart started pumping adrenaline into my veins, a lion waiting to strike. I yelled, “TANGO 6 O’CLOCK!” but it was too late, and I watched as the plane kamikaze into the edge of the cliff where 30 soldiers to my right were standing. At this moment, I learned the truth of war, I flew back and a branch went right through my spine. The next part was hazy, hard to remember. I saw all these soldier crawling around, some without legs, calling for their mom, dad, and anyone who cares for them. I black out and have a dream of my sisters, my mom, and my men. About how I care for them, but I also dream about the truth of all this war. I realized there is no truth. It is just an unfolding of confusion that can only be semi-explained by the soldier in it. There is no truth or explanation of it, it just is. War is like happiness, love, hate, or anger. War itself cannot be explain like all these emotions. It is only felt by the ones affected and experiencing it. It does not happen because one whole army hates every individual on the other side. It happens when disagreements over power go to far. The soldier in the wars don’t hate every person they are killing, they go to war like they are told, do the orders they are told, and kill they people they are told to.
After all this thought, I wake up and can only see black. I feel the presence of another person in front of me, but still can’t see due to the blindfold I have on. I feel the individual start to unravel the cloth that is covering my eyes. As they rounds the last time around my head my vision blurs. I see nothing but light for a few seconds. As my eyes focus I notice the familiar hospital in downtown St. Louis. I am sitting in a wheelchair not sure what is wrong with me. The person standing in front of me is Lt. Delourace Coleman. She doesn’t say anything at first, then takes a big breath in with me staring at her.
“You were rushed to urgent care. After the bigger battle that took place that is. The Japanese kept pounding the base while the marines defended it. We held the base but lost many and got 2 battleships knocked out of functioning. They kept you alive as one of the 3 surviving sniper from the ridge after that Jap suicided it. Your squad is fine but Lessenger was buried while you were in a coma.” I didn’t say anything when she paused even though she expected me to say something. She continued, “As for you, your back was severed in half and you can’t move your legs. The right side of your face a burns on it but it doesn’t look that bad.” I didn’t say anything I paused to think then rolled to the bathroom. The face that stared back at me was hardly my own. For an instance I though someone else was standing there looking at me. Then the thought came through that I thought the word “standing”. Now it would be “sitting”. It sounds sad but I didn’t mean it to be, because it’s the truth. I roll out to see Kennedy sitting on my bed. He said the exact words I expected him to say, “You’re home friend.”
The Devils Brigade is the highest group of special forces you can get into at the time. I am the only African-American in the brigade and also the only one over 180 pounds. I got in by getting the Medal of Honor in the Philippines against the Japanese. My mother wasn’t too happy about me being awarded for killing but the paycheck that followed calmed her nerves. The men always talk about how they are afraid of the Japanese but the only fear I have is not being about to support my family if I die. The methods the Japanese use don’t scare me, because all they are are just more ways to wipe out the enemy. The only part of the Philippines that bothered me was seeing my friends die from half a mile away and not being able to even say goodbye.
I have had the same rifle throughout my whole career. A M1903A1 Springfield which shooting a .30 cal round half a mile. I am known in the brigade for taking the best care of my weapon. Which is a good title considering all the other titles I could have for being the biggest man in the whole fleet of 10 ships we were stationed on. Going through traumatic events as a short kid in the poverty ridden streets of St. Louis made me learn to accept death as an old friend, as if he grew up with me. God has taught me that death is only another beginning. Even though I’m not that religious it’s always nice to have something to comfort you when you’re that far from home.
My thoughts were skewed as my closest comrade, First Lt. Delourace Gage Coleman approached me. She was the head nurse on the USS Atlanta. “Weekly check up Aaron.” she says with a slight Texan accent. I didn’t feel like responding due to the fact I was nervous about the invasion. “Are you nervous about the attack?” she asked right when I was thinking about the worst that could go wrong like arriving to the beach and getting pounded by .30 cals. “No I thrust the boys and they trust me.” I say with a sarcastic tone. My mommy always told me not to show weakness because then people take advantage of it, it’s human nature. I didn’t know how a nurse could take advantage of me, especially a friend, but I followed her advice anyways. “If anything were to go wrong, the fleet would be right behind us.”
I got done with my check-up as Clancy, not one of my favorite members of the brigade, passed me to go in as he says, “I hope she gives a full physical.” I stare at him and say nothing but my point get across to he should never say that again.
I head down to the mess hall to get some final grub before going to the personnel carrier. As I go into the cafeteria I see my team and we make eye contact, acknowledging that both of us are still living. The food they put on my plate was vomit straight from the hospital. I walk up to them when they are sitting down and some of the members invite me to sit down but I decline. Every mission we go on I like to eat alone before so I can think and be alone with my thoughts. I sit down on the cold but somewhat inviting seat. I start eating the notoriously bad food served on the Atlanta. My thought run about home, the mission, and how many people would miss me if I died. The thoughts make me second guess my physiological condition as if I were insane. But I guess we’re all insane then aren’t we. Then the order goes over the intercom for the Devil’s Brigade to Report to equipment check and load-up.
When I get there everyone is already half-way through cleaning their weapons so I should be ready before everyone else because I cleaned it this morning. I go over and check my kit for grenades, ammo, small medkit, wind instrument, and other essentials. Finally I look for a folded up picture picture of a mansion drawn in crayons. My 8 year old sister drew it and it reminds me of where I am now, the house we live in currently, and the dream my family has for us after the war.
We were ordered to go to the troop transports. We were standing there next to them getting called down in order. Of course I was in the back because I am a sniper but it didn’t matter because of how tall I am.
We set out and I know most of the people in the transport but that didn’t keep my nervousness at bay. Everyones hands were shaking like a small, scared puppy. The dew from a slight overcast made the mood serious. Our way to the beach not a word was said. The sound of the motor was humming like my mom used to do back home, but I needed to get my mind off that because that’s how people begin to panic. Everyone in the invasion force expected heavy beach resistance. But again no one said a word.
The ship suddenly stopped but we all knew what time it was. Before I had any time to react the door dropped and everyone started rushing out. This cause some to trip and fall to be stepped on by others. Luckily there weren’t enough people to injure the ones who had fallen. I stepped out onto the reef as the image of the beach came into view. The beach was surprisingly only about 20 yards long. I crouched immediately in the water when it got shallow enough, drew my sniper rifle, and waited for the .30 cals to start pounding the beach. Everyone in my squad did the same, but a single round was never fired. We sat there for 10, 20, 30 minutes but nothing happened. Surprisingly the smallest man in the brigade, a man named Tom Lessenger, moved first. He stood up with his weapon still drawn and started half walking half crouched towards the beach head. No one could even come close to understanding what was going through his head when he did this but at the same time people started doing the same. I was the last one to move as instructed in basic training because I am a sniper. Otherwise I would have been right up next to him. The brigade moved as one because if we live as one, we die as one. We knew each other which didn’t made us afraid to be right next to a friend as you both die.
The first men to set foot on the beach was the group of LMG (light machine gunners) which carried a gun that bailey any other brigade carried. The Johnson M1941 machine gun, which sent 600 of a .30 cal bullet down range a minute. A sharp looking but feared rifle. The Japanese were familiar with them being used in the Philippines. This is why the soldiers that carried these were ordered to go first onto the beach.
The second the LMGs hit the thick brush they stopped and crouched, scanning the brush. I finally regrouped with them and they did a headcount. We then were split up by squad and then proceeded to do our different tasks. My squad was 5 men which was comprised of a LGM, a shotgun, and two Tomson soldiers. The man with wielding the LGM was Tom Lessenger, again the smallest in the brigade but the bravest. The man with the shotgun was a man from Boston with a heavy accent, his name was Buz Smeeter. The two men with the Thompsons were Twins named Kennedy and Levi. They never spoke their last names but were still the leaders of the group and made joint decisions. These twins and I were the same rank (Lt.) but they still were deemed the leaders. Our mission was to go around the to the right side of the base to take them from multiple directions. This caused us to have the rout with the most traffic, suspectedly.
This trip was suppose to take 30 minutes but the first 30 second I broke a sweat because of the rough tropical environment. Like on the beach we had Tom with the M1941. He didn’t mind though obviously because he started humming Frank Sinatra. Levi and Buzz started small talk so this made Kennedy turn around and start talking with me.
“You’ve been the talk of the brigade.” he says as kindly as he can. “Whys that LT?” I say in a annoyed tone.
“Well, you are the only negro in the brigade and one of the few men to have the Medal of Honor and be alive. Also you are built as shit and everyone else is skinny and short.”
“LT my opinion is that my race doesn’t matter and I was only honored for doing what others would. I was just the person that happened to be put in that situation.” I tried to be less direct with this statement so it would be less personal and he wouldn’t get the wrong idea.
“Oh, I see. Well, are you scared of the Japs because I heard about your friend in the Philippines.” he said obviously trying not to be offensive.
I thought for a second then responded with, “The Japs are just another army. Just another way to eliminate the other side. They just have tactics most are not used to LT. I don’t give a shit if they are robots, I’m fighting them.”
This ended the conversation due to the seriousness in my tone. Suddenly I notice the humming had stopped. I looked forward and saw Tom with a 2 foot wooden spike through his throat. It had swung down from a tree and now was lodged in his neck. I saw this just as Levi bumped into him because he was facing backwards talking to Buzz. He turned to face what was in his path and he jumped back and screamed as he jumped back but kept screaming as he back farther and farther back. At this point, Tom had bled out and he was hanging from the spike. I looked down at me feet to see Levi in the fetal position screaming as tears rolled down his face.
We all stood there not knowing what to say. Kennedy, out of no where, grabbed Levi up off the wet ground and dragged him past his hanging comrade. This caused me to grab Buzz out of instinct and do the same.
We walked until we came to a small resting spot and we sat down. Immediately Kennedy smacked Levi hard and yelled, “PULL YOUR SHIT TOGETHER! IF YOU CAN’T OPERATE AS A HUMAN YOU WILL BE LEFT BEHIND!” This caused him to put a blank expression as if he wasn’t a human anymore. He stared at the ground. Kennedy turned to me and said,
“You need to go back and get his M1941.” I nodded and set on my way. As I walked I noticed we walked farther than we thought. I turned a slight corner and saw him 40 yards down through the brush still hanging. I walked over and found his gun in his hand still clenched tight. I had to pry it from his cold hand then I heard a shot echo through the trees. I started running back to the squad and I hear the sounds of more shots cracking through the trees.
I came up on the situation and my squad was hunkered behind a large log and rounds were smacking the from one after another. I was about to go join them when Levi saw me and yelled at me to stay back. He ordered me to go to the large rock about 10 yards to my right and post my sniper up. I ran to the rock and started climbing. There was a couple slips but eventually I made it up. I set my sniper on a small curve and started scanning. I then saw 5 Japs set up like a firing squad. They set up Type 89 LMGs. These were used as small anti-aircraft guns but were still giving it all they have. I took my first shot at a larger man but missed because my scope wasn’t dialed in. It only took me a couple moments to adjust the scope and take a more accurate shot. They train us to shoot the men in the back first so the ones in the front don’t know what happening.
I tuned in on the same man in the back which was a kind of big fellow as if he’d live on the St. Louis food street. Though this wasn’t time to think of home the thought still sprinted through my head I squeezed the second round of and it hit him right above his right eye killing him instantly. I pulled the bolt action and focused on the second guy. The shot rang out and ripped through his lower jaw and then through his throat. This caused commotion and the three other Japs saw their friend die right next to them. They paused for a second then ended up running into the woods. My remaining squad popped up from behind the log and walked down range carefully. They got to the Type 89s that were set up on stands, then proceeded to disable them. Levi then signaled me down.
“Good shit Lieutenant.” Levi says with a small stutter. I say nothing and nod just taking in the fact I ended two mens lives.
We move in silence until the airfield, due to the fact those three soldiers could be looking for revenge with us. We come up on the airfield and see Japanese men running all around it. We get the call on the radio that all teams have been waiting for us. The signal for the charge was artillery strikes from the beach and planes bombing their group of grounded planes. After all these strikes the infantry would move in. I was ordered to to a big cliff above the base with the snipers from other squads.
It takes me 5 minutes to climb but worth it. I had a clear view of the whole base and the island was beautiful. “You’re late Lieutenant, fall in like a good soldier for once.”
I line up with the 30 other men with different sniper rifles. The artillery started pounding the base and the planes were on their way. They did a bombing run on the grounded plane but one got away and took off. Surprisingly it didn’t fight he planes in the air it just flew away.
The artillery finally stopped and we were ordered to fire on any Jap target. All 30 men started firing on the base suppressing and wiping out anything that moved. They tried to fire on us but their bullets dropped before getting to us. I was aimed in on a window shooting at running target when I heard a small humming sound like an engine. I turn around and see that plane that got away coming at the cliff from behind. My heart started pumping adrenaline into my veins, a lion waiting to strike. I yelled, “TANGO 6 O’CLOCK!” but it was too late, and I watched as the plane kamikaze into the edge of the cliff where 30 soldiers to my right were standing. At this moment, I learned the truth of war, I flew back and a branch went right through my spine. The next part was hazy, hard to remember. I saw all these soldier crawling around, some without legs, calling for their mom, dad, and anyone who cares for them. I black out and have a dream of my sisters, my mom, and my men. About how I care for them, but I also dream about the truth of all this war. I realized there is no truth. It is just an unfolding of confusion that can only be semi-explained by the soldier in it. There is no truth or explanation of it, it just is. War is like happiness, love, hate, or anger. War itself cannot be explain like all these emotions. It is only felt by the ones affected and experiencing it. It does not happen because one whole army hates every individual on the other side. It happens when disagreements over power go to far. The soldier in the wars don’t hate every person they are killing, they go to war like they are told, do the orders they are told, and kill they people they are told to.
After all this thought, I wake up and can only see black. I feel the presence of another person in front of me, but still can’t see due to the blindfold I have on. I feel the individual start to unravel the cloth that is covering my eyes. As they rounds the last time around my head my vision blurs. I see nothing but light for a few seconds. As my eyes focus I notice the familiar hospital in downtown St. Louis. I am sitting in a wheelchair not sure what is wrong with me. The person standing in front of me is Lt. Delourace Coleman. She doesn’t say anything at first, then takes a big breath in with me staring at her.
“You were rushed to urgent care. After the bigger battle that took place that is. The Japanese kept pounding the base while the marines defended it. We held the base but lost many and got 2 battleships knocked out of functioning. They kept you alive as one of the 3 surviving sniper from the ridge after that Jap suicided it. Your squad is fine but Lessenger was buried while you were in a coma.” I didn’t say anything when she paused even though she expected me to say something. She continued, “As for you, your back was severed in half and you can’t move your legs. The right side of your face a burns on it but it doesn’t look that bad.” I didn’t say anything I paused to think then rolled to the bathroom. The face that stared back at me was hardly my own. For an instance I though someone else was standing there looking at me. Then the thought came through that I thought the word “standing”. Now it would be “sitting”. It sounds sad but I didn’t mean it to be, because it’s the truth. I roll out to see Kennedy sitting on my bed. He said the exact words I expected him to say, “You’re home friend.”
Globalization Op-Ed
Gangs Inc.
Garrett Hagen
“There are very few statistics that track gun violence in Central America, but news reports suggest that gang-related gun violence has increased,” says Al Valdez, a professor at the University of California, “The research also suggests that the members of the gangs are both victims and perpetrators, just as they are in the United States.” Gang violence in the U.S. is growing. Just a week ago at the Grammys, someone was shot outside the Pre-Grammy Party in a gang shooting. Although this happens more outside of the U.S., it still has a major affect on all the gangs and mafias in America.
Globalization has always been present, from the start of time to when Genghis Khan showed Eurasia horseback fighting, to this technological age we are living in. Now, it is so easy to send messages between gangs members with phones. Technology and globalization allows these gangs to grow in ways they have never been able too.
The most gang activity comes out of Central America and has spread to the United States with ease. The same goes with American cartels and mafias. They have spread to different corners of the globe because of this globalized era we live in. This is because of the technologies and spread of information. From twitter to email, the globalization of these gangs is spreading and affecting every country caught in the middle.
Al Valdez in the same document says, “Some experts and the media see the complex Central American gang issues as a direct result of U.S. deportation policies. In recent years, thousands of Central Americans with criminal records have been deported from the United States back to the region.” This can cause more powerful gangs so that they expand to the US where they can flourish. This is a huge aspect of how the gangs have grown in Central America. Now I’m not saying getting rid of these policies will solve the Central American gang problem in America, but it has contributed to it.
Gangs, mafias, and cartels are all found across America. From street gangs such as MS-13 to the large Columbia Cartel. They are going global now because of all the different way to transport information across the world.
From 2007-2009 had the most gang related arrests shown in an FBI statistic. In 2006 was also when twitter was launched. The increase isn’t completely due to this social network but has contributed in the sense of information spreading more. The media spreads information easily through social networks though. When reporting all this gang violence or activity it shown that they have power. And it America it’s all about power.
“Gangs are an essential part of growing up and becoming a law abiding citizen, but you wouldn't know it from the media.” says Caspar Walsh a journalist for Write to Freedom. He means that the gangs, even though they are thought of as terrible savages who use violence to get what they want, they do contribute to society in some ways. Lately there has been news about youth violence but truth is, is that it has always been present. It usually boils down to how society deals with it. The media just has chosen to report it. Gangs are the same this way.
Globalization has changed as well as gangs. The spread of information is far different than it was 20 years ago. The way media approaches subjects of violence has made the criminal famous in a way. The same goes with gangs in America. Everyone know the Bloods or Crips. Everyone knows the Columbian or Mexican cartels. This is because whenever there is gang violence they try to globalize it for rating.
In the LA Times, Robert J. Lopez, Rich Connell, and Chris Kraul say, “In the last 12 years, U.S. immigration authorities have logged more than 50,000 deportations of immigrants with criminal records to Central America.” This is an example of the deportation laws making the Central American gangs stronger. This makes it easier to come back and survive in America. There isn’t a good solution to this though because we don’t want to keep gang members in America but deporting them just put them back into the system.
You can go on any media, video, news, or movie/TV site and see video apon video of these groups. There are documentaries, reports, and even TV shows about these gangs and how they work. This is how gangs are effecting America in the biggest way. Through the spread of information they easily get their message out. Whether its a burning of a school bus in L.A. or a drive-by shooting in New York, they know the media will be there to report it and spread it. This is why gangs are flourishing today so much in America, because we are giving them exactly what they want.
Work Cited:
"Tomhayden.com - The Democracy Journal - The Globalization Of Gangs." Tomhayden.com - The Democracy Journal - The Globalization Of Gangs. N.p., n.d. Web. 03 Feb. 2015.
Valdez, Al. Maras, Security and Development in Central America Task Force. Miami, Florida: University of Miami, 2007. 1-18. Web. 9 Feb. 2015. <https://umshare.miami.edu/web/wda/hemisphericpolicy/ValdezMaras.pdf>.
Walsh, Casper. "Gangs Are Good for Society." The Guardian. Joe's Public Blog, 10 Nov. 2011. Web. 14 Feb. 2015. <http%3A%2F%2Fwww.theguardian.com%2Fsociety%2Fjoepublic%2F2011%2Fnov%2F10%2Fgangs-good-society-youth-crime>.
Garrett Hagen
“There are very few statistics that track gun violence in Central America, but news reports suggest that gang-related gun violence has increased,” says Al Valdez, a professor at the University of California, “The research also suggests that the members of the gangs are both victims and perpetrators, just as they are in the United States.” Gang violence in the U.S. is growing. Just a week ago at the Grammys, someone was shot outside the Pre-Grammy Party in a gang shooting. Although this happens more outside of the U.S., it still has a major affect on all the gangs and mafias in America.
Globalization has always been present, from the start of time to when Genghis Khan showed Eurasia horseback fighting, to this technological age we are living in. Now, it is so easy to send messages between gangs members with phones. Technology and globalization allows these gangs to grow in ways they have never been able too.
The most gang activity comes out of Central America and has spread to the United States with ease. The same goes with American cartels and mafias. They have spread to different corners of the globe because of this globalized era we live in. This is because of the technologies and spread of information. From twitter to email, the globalization of these gangs is spreading and affecting every country caught in the middle.
Al Valdez in the same document says, “Some experts and the media see the complex Central American gang issues as a direct result of U.S. deportation policies. In recent years, thousands of Central Americans with criminal records have been deported from the United States back to the region.” This can cause more powerful gangs so that they expand to the US where they can flourish. This is a huge aspect of how the gangs have grown in Central America. Now I’m not saying getting rid of these policies will solve the Central American gang problem in America, but it has contributed to it.
Gangs, mafias, and cartels are all found across America. From street gangs such as MS-13 to the large Columbia Cartel. They are going global now because of all the different way to transport information across the world.
From 2007-2009 had the most gang related arrests shown in an FBI statistic. In 2006 was also when twitter was launched. The increase isn’t completely due to this social network but has contributed in the sense of information spreading more. The media spreads information easily through social networks though. When reporting all this gang violence or activity it shown that they have power. And it America it’s all about power.
“Gangs are an essential part of growing up and becoming a law abiding citizen, but you wouldn't know it from the media.” says Caspar Walsh a journalist for Write to Freedom. He means that the gangs, even though they are thought of as terrible savages who use violence to get what they want, they do contribute to society in some ways. Lately there has been news about youth violence but truth is, is that it has always been present. It usually boils down to how society deals with it. The media just has chosen to report it. Gangs are the same this way.
Globalization has changed as well as gangs. The spread of information is far different than it was 20 years ago. The way media approaches subjects of violence has made the criminal famous in a way. The same goes with gangs in America. Everyone know the Bloods or Crips. Everyone knows the Columbian or Mexican cartels. This is because whenever there is gang violence they try to globalize it for rating.
In the LA Times, Robert J. Lopez, Rich Connell, and Chris Kraul say, “In the last 12 years, U.S. immigration authorities have logged more than 50,000 deportations of immigrants with criminal records to Central America.” This is an example of the deportation laws making the Central American gangs stronger. This makes it easier to come back and survive in America. There isn’t a good solution to this though because we don’t want to keep gang members in America but deporting them just put them back into the system.
You can go on any media, video, news, or movie/TV site and see video apon video of these groups. There are documentaries, reports, and even TV shows about these gangs and how they work. This is how gangs are effecting America in the biggest way. Through the spread of information they easily get their message out. Whether its a burning of a school bus in L.A. or a drive-by shooting in New York, they know the media will be there to report it and spread it. This is why gangs are flourishing today so much in America, because we are giving them exactly what they want.
Work Cited:
"Tomhayden.com - The Democracy Journal - The Globalization Of Gangs." Tomhayden.com - The Democracy Journal - The Globalization Of Gangs. N.p., n.d. Web. 03 Feb. 2015.
Valdez, Al. Maras, Security and Development in Central America Task Force. Miami, Florida: University of Miami, 2007. 1-18. Web. 9 Feb. 2015. <https://umshare.miami.edu/web/wda/hemisphericpolicy/ValdezMaras.pdf>.
Walsh, Casper. "Gangs Are Good for Society." The Guardian. Joe's Public Blog, 10 Nov. 2011. Web. 14 Feb. 2015. <http%3A%2F%2Fwww.theguardian.com%2Fsociety%2Fjoepublic%2F2011%2Fnov%2F10%2Fgangs-good-society-youth-crime>.
Op-Ed Reflection
1. This project was mainly to teach us how to write in Op-Ed style for documents and essays.
We first had to read multiple documents on WTO and NAFTA. We then had to choose a
question on globalization after annotating and reading these articles. Mine question was “How
does globalization contribute to increased gang activity in America?” After this I researched 5
different articles and Op-Eds from other people on the subject. Then made a 1st, 2nd, and 3rd
draft of my own personal Op-Ed. We did a self critique, peer critique, and teacher critique
throughout this process. The put out our final draft along with a political cartoon to go with it.
2. I personally understand how the system of globalization works now. After reading those
multiple articles on it and annotating them it is easier to understand other concepts connected
to globalization as well. My big takeaways are mainly from the research notes I did on the book,
as well as from the WTO and NAFTA documents we read. I personally enjoyed reading these
and learning about my subject as well as how these agreements affected the world outside of
cooperation.
3. My first draft of my cartoon is just the United States and Central America Tattooed but there
is no writing or key to the map. I don’t think I’ve so much grown as a cartoonist but more
creatively. I did change the way I looked at political cartoons and how to make them. Also the
deeper meaning of them, as well as what the cartoonist is expressing.
4. This writing style is more complex and ideas. It is ideas but backed by evidence and fact.
This style is more for informational than opinionated typically. This can easily be carried in my
future with college ad other information essays. I learned how incorporate independent research
into writing as well as including work cited which we haven't had to do in the past. Many written
new articles and documents these days are typed in this style. It is easy to understand and full of
many ideas on the subject.
We first had to read multiple documents on WTO and NAFTA. We then had to choose a
question on globalization after annotating and reading these articles. Mine question was “How
does globalization contribute to increased gang activity in America?” After this I researched 5
different articles and Op-Eds from other people on the subject. Then made a 1st, 2nd, and 3rd
draft of my own personal Op-Ed. We did a self critique, peer critique, and teacher critique
throughout this process. The put out our final draft along with a political cartoon to go with it.
2. I personally understand how the system of globalization works now. After reading those
multiple articles on it and annotating them it is easier to understand other concepts connected
to globalization as well. My big takeaways are mainly from the research notes I did on the book,
as well as from the WTO and NAFTA documents we read. I personally enjoyed reading these
and learning about my subject as well as how these agreements affected the world outside of
cooperation.
3. My first draft of my cartoon is just the United States and Central America Tattooed but there
is no writing or key to the map. I don’t think I’ve so much grown as a cartoonist but more
creatively. I did change the way I looked at political cartoons and how to make them. Also the
deeper meaning of them, as well as what the cartoonist is expressing.
4. This writing style is more complex and ideas. It is ideas but backed by evidence and fact.
This style is more for informational than opinionated typically. This can easily be carried in my
future with college ad other information essays. I learned how incorporate independent research
into writing as well as including work cited which we haven't had to do in the past. Many written
new articles and documents these days are typed in this style. It is easy to understand and full of
many ideas on the subject.
Poetry Project
Ferguson
Garrett Hagen
Profound as a holocaust of words
These words are baneful
Splitting people like wood
These words define morals
Yet bringing us together as if honey to bees
Willing to sacrifice for a right life
March for morals like soldier in arms
These movements are an infection of progression
Standing tall like the lies of America
Pain is the past, freedom is future
If we let the past become the future
The progression will be close-minded
Although society needs repairing like a suture
Using color causes children to be blinded
Equality is the only thing preached by King Luther
Being a certain race should make you proud
As if all humans have to drink from the Holy Cup
Stepping through boundaries in a crowd
Walking through Ferguson with hands up
Garrett Hagen
Profound as a holocaust of words
These words are baneful
Splitting people like wood
These words define morals
Yet bringing us together as if honey to bees
Willing to sacrifice for a right life
March for morals like soldier in arms
These movements are an infection of progression
Standing tall like the lies of America
Pain is the past, freedom is future
If we let the past become the future
The progression will be close-minded
Although society needs repairing like a suture
Using color causes children to be blinded
Equality is the only thing preached by King Luther
Being a certain race should make you proud
As if all humans have to drink from the Holy Cup
Stepping through boundaries in a crowd
Walking through Ferguson with hands up
Growth as a Poet Reflection
The subject I chose was a touchy one. At first it was a simple 21st century problem. Then as I studied the subject of racism more and more it turned into a broad spectrum of issue. I changed some small stuff as my perspective changed. Like “These words are evil” to “These words are baneful”. I tried to change the complexity of the words and poem because of how complex of a subject it is. This is partly why there is a turn halfway through the poem.
The first major change I made was adding the third and fourth paragraph. At first it was just the two metaphor and simile stanzas. As I read it over and over I decided to make two more stanzas but they had to be different. Without the last two stanzas the first two are very confusing and don’t get my full message across.
The second major change I made was the turn I added between pairs of stanzas. The first two are only similes and metaphor but then changes to a rhyme scheme of ABABA.I had this turn peers critiqued to see if I should keep it or not and was told, “the tone of the same message changes which make it seem more powerful and conflicting.” So because of these critiques I decided to keep it and not re-do the poem to the rhyme scheme style.
The last change I made was the style it was presented. I wanted to do spoken word because of the subject of the poem. It would have seemed more emotional if presented live then an art piece. My mind was changed because when I talked to Lori about what I was doing, she suggested to do the video format that turned out to be my final product. I am overall satisfied with my final product as well as making this decision to do a video. It also worked out better because I was not here for this exhibition so they played my video without me there.
The first major change I made was adding the third and fourth paragraph. At first it was just the two metaphor and simile stanzas. As I read it over and over I decided to make two more stanzas but they had to be different. Without the last two stanzas the first two are very confusing and don’t get my full message across.
The second major change I made was the turn I added between pairs of stanzas. The first two are only similes and metaphor but then changes to a rhyme scheme of ABABA.I had this turn peers critiqued to see if I should keep it or not and was told, “the tone of the same message changes which make it seem more powerful and conflicting.” So because of these critiques I decided to keep it and not re-do the poem to the rhyme scheme style.
The last change I made was the style it was presented. I wanted to do spoken word because of the subject of the poem. It would have seemed more emotional if presented live then an art piece. My mind was changed because when I talked to Lori about what I was doing, she suggested to do the video format that turned out to be my final product. I am overall satisfied with my final product as well as making this decision to do a video. It also worked out better because I was not here for this exhibition so they played my video without me there.