It was a typical day until it happened. It Was a sunny day filled with warmth. The mesquites with their unpleasant stings woke me up. I was full of energy and felt like this morning is the best of all my mornings. That was probably because of how I hadn’t slept the day before and was tired. Opening the big window was first on my list. Getting breakfast was the second step and the most important step of all. Fresh eggs from my brown feathered hens were soft surrounded by goat cheese, and well cooked toast. Ordinarily,The place was mute. Only the sound of the wind shaking the old wood was heard. Living on this big plantation sometimes became boring. The indistinct voices of children playing in the distance are some of the only noises of people I hear. There was a battle going to happen tomorrow and therefore, I was trying to make this day a good one since it might be my last one. The day was going normally so far until someone came to my door. The guy rode horse and was very tired. It seemed as …show more content…
This battle was in January 1, 1862. I thought this battle would start later, but I was wrong. While I was having a nice morning people were risking their lives. I rushed inside my house. Without thinking I went to my closet and opened it without restraint. I was to worried about my comrades to think about anything at the moment. I got ready for the battle getting my general ranked rifle and guns. I picked my fastest horse. An Elegant black horse with long soft hair and eyes the color of burned sugar. I rode the horse as fast as I could towards the battle scene beside Johnson. I felt this unusual feeling that this day is not like any other day.The wind violently pushed against my face, but that was not really important at this moment. I was worried about everybody there fighting, especially my friend. Riding past my plantation they way I did that was the last time it ever
The ending of this battle is tragic and enlightening as well, the great idea of sneak attacks at dawn by the Confederates and the righteous timings of reinforcement by the Union, brought this story to my attention. Gathering this information brought me believe that this is a movie, a novel, but this was actual real life. Losing lives in a battle like this one bring only one thing to mind, that each side was fierce on fighting for what they believe in. No other battles before this have had this much bloodshed in less than a day, the planning done by Grant and Johnston was phenomenal. The steady mind of Johnston and the brave hearts that were under Grant is what brought this battle to what is today’s history. Working on this essay has been excellent in my learning process and I hope to be doing another one soon.
“Line up Soldiers!” The Red-Coat was screaming at us the second we got off the bus telling us to line up and to be quiet. My fifth grade class was on a field trip on this windy November morning. We were at Riley’s Farm and about to live for a day like we were in 1765 as a Patriot during the American Revolution. We were on the bus for 2.5 hours and finally we arrived.
First, those involved with the battle were General Ulysses S. Grant of the Union States (US) and Lieutenant General John C. Pemberton of the Confederate States (CS). Forces engaged in the battle encompassed the Army of the Tennessee (US) and the Army of Vicksburg (CS). Grant’s army had assembled 15 miles worth of trenches and also enclosed the force of Pemberton’s of 29,000 men within the perimeter. There had been 70,000 troops of Grant. Thought were attempts in order to save and rescue Pemberton and his force, these attempts had failed both from the east and west. For both military personnel and civilians, their condition had been deteriorating rapidly.
Waking up under my families lean-to next to my sister, Wihakayda just like every morning. The early rising sun illuminated the crystal clear gulf a few miles away from our hut. My parents had gotten up before me like usual. Dowanhowee, my mother was washing blackberries off and cooking a pitiful amount of fish over a ginormous roaring fire. The brave and noble warrior Akecheta was my father and he had caught them last night when he was out arrow fishing. This was all we had to eat for breakfast today. My dad was one of the best wrestlers in our village. He had earned a spot on the council and was currently there in a conference trying to figure out with the other leaders how we are going to make our food last. I had a few ideas on how to
It was summertime when one of the bloodiest battles in United States history was fought. The year was 1863. The battle took place in Gettysburg, PA. July 1, 1863 was cloudy, a foreshadowing of what was to come. The northern Yankees and Southern Confederates were swiftly battling. The opposing sides were bitterly fighting over slavery. The conflict came to a climax on the fields of Gettysburg. Impressive Generals were at command for both sides. The North had Ulysses S. Grant, and the South had Robert E. Lee. One of Lee’s most trusted general’s was a 37 year old man named Ambrose Powell Hill. Perhaps Lee’s trust was misplaced in Hill. Ambrose Hill aspired to greatness, and hoped his performance at the Battle of Gettysburg would enhance his reputation as a general; however, Hill struggled to perform well.
A mail carrier will leave for the Confederate States to night and I hasten to write this to accompany him on his doubtful journey and then to encounter still more doubtful fate of letters from Culpepper Ct House to Fauquier. We passed the Potomac at Williamsport on the 26th and entered this town on the suburbs of which we are now encamped on the 28th--nearly in the rear of the army. You can form some idea of the discipline now when after a long days march when the rolls are called on entering bivouac but one single absentee is reported from a whole Brigade. The constrast between the condition of the army now and last year when we entered Maryland is most encouraging--Every one noticed it & spoke of it in Hagerstown. It is almost amusing to witness the anxious stare with which we are regarded as our sunburnt motley dressed regiments but moving in closed ranks with the cadenced step to the tune of Dixie and with enfield muskets glistening and the red battle flag
“At this time in my life I lived in a very old town house, where I often heard unexplainable noises in the attic. One night, when I was about 11, my parents went out to a party, leaving me all alone. The night was stormy, with crashes of lightening and thunder outside. Having nothing to do, I fell asleep after eating too much ice cream. All of a sudden, my alarm clock goes off in the middle of the night, reading 3 o’clock. I’m wondering why ...
In Joseph Plumb Martin’s account of his experiences in the Revolutionary War he offers unique insight into the perspective of a regular soldier, which differs from the views of generals and leaders such as popular characters like George Washington. Martin’s narrative is an asset to historical scholarship as a primary source that gives an in-depth look at how life in the army was for many young men during the War for Independence. He described the tremendous suffering he experienced like starvation and privation. He did not shy away from describing his criticism of the government who he believes did not adequately care for the soldiers during and after the war. While he may be biased because of his personal involvement as a soldier, he seems to relate accounts that are plausible without embellishment or self-aggrandizement. Overall, “A Narrative of A Revolutionary Soldier” is a rich source of information providing an overview of military experience during the war.
This was a very difficult Journal for me. As I tried to think back to my childhood, I could
The town of Matewan, West Virginia was my home for a majority of my life. I grew up there, I was taught there, and I learned how to mine there. My family consisted of my father, Patrick O’Reilly, my mother, Ennis O’Reilly, and me, Bobby O’Reilly, or just Bob for short. In my earliest of memories in Matewan, I could remember my father leaving in the mornings to serve his shift in the mine like all the other men in the town. My father was a great man of humble upbringings, and I will always remember what he used to tell me every night he got home from his shift, “Bobby, Let us sacrifice our today so that our children can have a better tomorrow.” Today, when I look back at what my father told me, I see it as a testament of his love for his family and his desire that I achieve greatness in my life. I believe that’s what made my father a great man, and until his fateful day on September 29, 1917, I thought that he was invincible. My mother, Ennis, was a magnificent yet rowdy women, and I remember how she used to speak profanities about the mines when I was little. My mother always felt that my father was being taken advantage of down in those mines, and she would let my father have it every
As i look onto which can only be described as pure chaos of fervent battle that rages just ahead of me. Im almost simultaneously forced into agony by defining booms of gunfire with the ferocity the most vicious thunderstorms. The smell of freshly burnt gunpowder defusie by the iron smell of blood in the air. As i give the surround area just a glance i'm stricken on how familiar land looks then it hit like train at what my sight has discovered. That this is the beginning of the end of life style and a culture but for now its greatest moment this is the battle of little bighorn.this was Custer's last stand by Edgar S. Paxson for buffalo bill's wild west show.this was a highly romanticized but it does catch the chaos of the battle that i can
I am jarred out of a relaxing sleep by a voice yelling my name in a loud whisper, and a light burning through my eyelids. Groggily, I open my eyes to see my father standing in the doorway to my messy room. He tells me that I need to get going, that it is 3:00 a.m., and I'm burning daylight. I find my clothes and get dressed. The whole time I wonder why I get up this early to visit the rugged outdoors. I want to go back to bed, but I know my dad will be back in to make sure I am getting ready, in a little bit. Instead, I put my boots and my wide-brimmed, black cowboy hat on, and walked out to catch the horses. The horses are all excited because it is dark and they are not that cooperative. My dad and I get them saddled and in the trailer, and go back into the house to get our lunch, water, and a cup of coffee. Now, we can head for the high country.
Thesis: The war overseas, but there are millions of veterans still fighting the war at home.
The third maddening buzz of my alarm woke me as I groggily slid out of bed to the shower. It was the start of another routine morning, or so I thought. I took a shower, quarreled with my sister over which clothes she should wear for that day and finished getting myself ready. All of this took a little longer than usual, not a surprise, so we were running late. We hopped into the interior of my sleek, white Thunderbird and made our way to school.
As usual I woke up to the sound of my father pounding on my bedroom door, hollering, “Get up! Get on your feet! You’re burning daylight!” I met my brother in the hallway, and we took our time making it down the stairs, still waking up from last night’s sleep. As we made our way to the kitchen, I thought about what to have for breakfast: fried eggs, pancakes, an omelet, or maybe just some cereal. I started to get hungry. As usual, mom and dad were waiting in the kitchen. Mom was ready to cook whatever we could all agree on, and dad was sitting at the table watching the news. The conversation went as usual, “Good morning.” “How are you today?”