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Qualities of Adolf Hitler
Effects of WW2 on people
Effect of the Second World War on people
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...I remember. It was all a blur. I remember sitting on the cold dusty floor; in the stadium, at my school. We all had no clue what was going on. The students, staff and facility staff, we were all jam-packed in the stadium. In front of all of us there was a tall dark man who had a skunk’s tail around his face, his shoulders were brawny, and His face was cold sober. The tall man thought that
We were so naïve and absurd wearing, poppies on and kept sniggering every time he took a glance at us. What does what? Who is he? I also wanted to know why he is here those were the questions that were circling in my mind. The tall dark man looked very intimidating he looked as hard as a brick. He had three men on each side of him, looking like bowling pins. He told us that his name he said his name was Dedrick, ruler of people, he said this with gratification. The silence in the room broke. The whalley rangers erupted with hilarity. His face turned red with a slow burn “SILENCE!” he compelled. All of a sudden the clock struck eleven o’clock. He declared “I Dedrick Hitler, Hitler’s son! When I saw the villainous spiteful look of his face I started to put all the puzzle pieces together. I knew what was going on. Words were racing through my mind. If you ever hear the word Hitler’s son on Remembrance Day at eleven o’clock you just know you’re going to be in a rat' nest. I slowly raised my hand terrified of what was going to happen. All eyes were focused on. Dedrick said “yes zilltle girl” in a strong, powerful, and stentorian.
German accent “vat do you vant?” I softly then said to him in a calm voice “what is your plan, what do you want at this school?” He came closer. He whispers in my ear with his melting voice “my plan? I felt so rotten m...
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... stand the heat. I did not vote for you so that, you can encourage kids to fight. Sleeping on the warm bloody red floor made me feel queasy, at the beginning but Haley who is only 8 told us to stay strong. Haley is a better leader than you will ever be. I cannot breathe in the nasty powdery plague. The smell is awful like fish bathing in manure. I shouldn’t have voted for you even. Jacob who is 12 has more leadership in his finger than you have in you body, if I come out alive I’m not voting for you again.
Yours sincerely
Solace
I stormed out the tent with fury. The winds spoke with exhaust. The wind ran through my hair, as I was preparing to battle. I climbed to the top of the hill, feeling the cold-heat running past my face. I waited for the venomous against, but before I went down, I turned around there he was dedrick with a glimmer in his eye.
Kershaw later depicts a comment made by Hitler discussing the dire need to deport German Jews, away from the ‘Procterate,’ calling them “dangerous ‘fifth columnists’” that threatened the integrity of Germany. In 1941, Hitler discusses, more fervently his anger towards the Jews, claiming them to responsible for the deaths caused by the First World War: “this criminal race has the two million dead of the World War on its conscience…don’t anyone tell me we can’t send them into the marshes (Morast)!” (Kershaw 30). These recorded comments illustrate the deep rooted hatred and resentment Hitler held for the Jewish population that proved ultimately dangerous. Though these anti-Semitic remarks and beliefs existed among the entirety of the Nazi Political party, it didn’t become a nationwide prejudice until Hitler established such ideologies through the use of oral performance and
My breath was heavy as I was sprinting from them. I could hear them on my tail. But the only this that was racing through my mind was “I have the book.”
The story is a 3rd person view of a young boy called Georg who lived in Germany with his dad who was born in England and his mother born Germany. At the time all he wanted was to be a perfect boy in Hitler’s eyes which now wouldn’t be a good thing these days but at his time it would be all anyone ever
Susan Campbell Bartoletti’s historical drama story, “The Boy Who Dared,” takes place in Germany -- a time where Hitler started ruling. Helmuth Guddat Hübener, a young boy, desired to fight for the “fatherland.” He believed the Nazis were beings of good but later finds out that the government, including Hitler, were spewing lies and executing innocent bystanders. Germany is split between supporting Hitler openly, or secretly denying him, whilst Helmuth is stuck between duty to his country, or fighting for what is right. One lesson that the story suggests is that the lie is sometimes better than the truth, even if it is wrong.
First came the pride, an overwhelming sense of achievement, an accomplishment due to great ambition, but slowly and enduringly surged a world of guilt and confusion, the conscience which I once thought diminished, began to grow, soon defeating the title and its rewards. Slowly the unforgotten memories from that merciless night overcame me and I succumbed to the incessant and horrific images, the bloody dagger, a lifeless corpse. I wash, I scrub, I tear at the flesh on my hands, trying desperately to cleanse myself of the blood. But the filthy witness remains, stained, never to be removed.
War of the Worlds starts with off as a normal day in Woking, England, but that night astronomers observe flares of light and energy on the surface of Mars. This continues every twenty four hours for ten days. Later on, the first of ten pods land nearby in the pine forest and the narrator is one of the first to see the cylindrical capsules. Out of these capsules five Martian tripods will arise, straining against the greater gravity of earth. These tripods send the narrator on the run across England only stopping to take refuge at night, to find his wife in Leatherhead. Upon his journey he is aided by a few survivors, the first of whom is the artilleryman. They set off together and travel a good distance, but are later separated by a Martian attack. The narrator escapes, but scalded by the water heated to near boiling by the Martian’s heat ray. While by himself he discovers the Martian’s new weapon of mass destruction, a capsule of toxic black smoke that runs across the ground with the likeness of a liquid. The narrator later finds himself taking refuge with a man called the Curate. While taking refuge a capsule lands on the house they were hiding in and part of the building collapses trapping them inside. Here, while trapped together, the narrator realizes he can’t stand the nearly mental Curate. While the whole time, all they know of the outside world is what they can see through a small crack in the wall that overlooks the newly formed Martian pit. Days later the narrator discovers how the Martians feed when they capture the Curate. The Martians feed by extracting the blood of humans and animals through a tube tipped with a syringe. Soon after the noise of Martian machinery stops and the narrator crawls out of the ...
It was the year 1942 and the war was in full swing, not much older than I a boy and his brother, Rolf and Alfred watched as Nazis rounded up friends, classmates, family and each other. They watched their mother and father as the Nazis violently took them, tied them up, and threw them into the trunk of a car. This would be the last time the brothers would ever see their beloved parents. Rolf was a young high school student when he was taken by the Gestapo, Hitler’s henchmen. Somehow his brother Alfred managed to escape and only Rolf was taken. He awoke in a bas...
The tone becomes more realistic and has less admiration. There is an indication of WW2 in relation the holocaust as the speaker states “In the German tongue, in the polish town/ of wars, wars, wars “(line 16-18). This could mean that her father was involved in the holocaust, probably a powerful figure. The speaker then admits her fear of her fath...
Citizens pushed to the side, through streams of proud troops. Women draped in long dresses with the sun bearing down on them, smiling in aspiration of these ‘heroes’ marching through Germany. Impeccable attired men, looking witty and smart, marched with these troops. Frocking little boys and girls on their way home from school. All accompanied by the Nazi band who were playing music. A rich and visual symphony defined the streets of berlin, Germany, 1933. Juxtaposed to his familiar surroundings, a lone 12-year-old boy a sauntered in congruously through the jostling crowds. A 12-year-old boy who was more interested in football, card games and family time, not ‘nationalism’ nor ‘the father land’. Far different to the boys attitude around him, He wore a simple brand of clothes, again different to the Schwartz sticker on many boys around him. Tomas Muller’s strong features; mirrored by seventy million who were part of this pulsating nation. He did not grow up here, but having listened with great fascination to a plethora of myths and stories about Germany from a young age, you would think he would be more excited. He wasn’t. Around him was German propaganda of bringing back to the fatherland.
As I inched my way toward the cliff, my legs were shaking uncontrollably. I could feel the coldness of the rock beneath my feet when my toes curled around the edge in one last futile attempt at survival. My heart was racing like a trapped bird, desperate to escape. Gazing down the sheer drop, I nearly fainted; my entire life flashed before my eyes. I could hear stones breaking free and fiercely tumbling down the hillside, plummeting into the dark abyss of the forbidding black water. The trees began to rapidly close in around me in a suffocating clench, and the piercing screams from my friends did little to ease the pain. The cool breeze felt like needles upon my bare skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps. The threatening mountains surrounding me seemed to grow more sinister with each passing moment, I felt myself fighting for air. The hot summer sun began to blacken while misty clouds loomed overhead. Trembling with anxiety, I shut my eyes, murmuring one last pathetic prayer. I gathered my last breath, hoping it would last a lifetime, took a step back and plun...
The night was tempestuous and my emotions were subtle, like the flame upon a torch. They blew out at the same time that my sense of tranquility dispersed, as if the winds had simply come and gone. The shrill scream of a young girl ricocheted off the walls and for a few brief seconds, it was the only sound that I could hear. It was then that the waves of turmoil commenced to crash upon me. It seemed as though every last one of my senses were succumbed to disperse from my reach completely. As everything blurred, I could just barely make out the slam of a door from somewhere alongside me and soon, the only thing that was left in its place was an ominous silence.
Her spry, Timberland-clad foot planted itself upon a jagged boulder, motionless, until her calf muscles tightened and catapulted her small frame into the next stride. Then Sara's dance continued, her feet playing effortlessly with the difficult terrain. As her foot lifted from the ground, compressed mint-colored lichen would spring back into position, only to be crushed by my immense boot, struggling to step where hers had been. My eyes fixated on the forest floor, as fallen trees, swollen roots, and unsteady rocks posed constant threats for my exhausted body. Without glancing up I knew what was ahead: the same dense, impenetrable green that had surrounded us for hours. My throat prickled with unfathomable thirst, as my long-empty Nalgene bottle slapped mockingly at my side. Gnarled branches snared at my clothes and tore at my hair, and I blindly hurled myself after Sara. The portage had become a battle, and the ominously darkening sky raised the potential for casualties. Gritting my teeth with gumption, I refused to stop; I would march on until I could no longer stand.
What would happen if our world were destroyed by our own kind? The dead rising from their graves and causing chaos all around the world; biting, scratching, and killing everyone they come across. Some run, and some flee with little to no resources trying to escape a most certain death. Governments going on the defensive, but have no true understanding what they are going up against. Governments don’t have the leadership they once had, chaos and panic quickly set in. This is experienced in the book written by Max Brooks. A book who is a number 1 New York Times best seller, as well as the audio book with the voices of Alan Alda and Mark Hamill winning the Audie Award in 2007. It has also been made into a movie in 2013. Directed by Marc Forster starring Brad Pitt, Mireille Enos, and Matthew Fox. With the massive budget of $190,000,000 (estimated by imdb). With the huge talk of the movie coming out no one had any idea what was about to happen, other then the other Max Brooks. Max Brooks was the one person who was least surprised that Hollywood changed his whole book. At an interview conducted at Mansfield University about his book and the movie that had recently came out. He quoted “I knew they were going to rewrite it. I grew up in Hollywood. I knew it was going to go through a million changes.” He went later on to say “My attitude is if you haven’t invited me to contribute, then fine. Go make the movie you want to make and I’ll see it when it comes out.” In matter of fact the movie and book barely resemble each other, many critics of the movie say that the book and the movie have one thing in common, the title. Near the end of the interview at Mansfield University he said “I cannot guarantee that the mo...
If you like action and horror movies you would love this movie. World War Z is a action packed movie. It was directed by Marc Foster, he has made multiple other movies but one of the most famous is World War Z. It has everything from zombies, explosions and guns. As more and more humans become zombies, the harder it gets to survive. The fate of humanity rest on the shoulders of Gerry Lane.
With a slow dawn I remembered. Had I slipped or had he hit me with something? My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as I relived the figure advancing towards me. It was dark. The street light that shone from behind the man in the faceless thickset man in the grey hoody ensured anonymity. Now he was coming. How long had I been here? My head ached as I struggled to assess my surroundings.