Field Trip

Field Trip

I was but at child at the time, I had just lost my first tooth and I was learning addition at the local primary school. I was the son of a doctor, a wise and charismatic man who always had the answer to every one's questions. Sometimes, when the moon failed to shine and the swaying branches of the bold baobab trees sent menacing shadows dancing across my room, I would curl up in the corner of my father’s study and watch him read; the way his thick eyebrows would arch ever so slightly when something surprised him amused me, and eventually the soft desk light would fade away and I would be safe in my father’s comforting arms as he carried me off to bed, singing me an old African hymn about a father lion who sees his cub for the first time. Those nights were magical.

I had just been released from school, I took a shortcut through the bush to try to beat my father home. He would always leave work at 3 o’clock sharp to greet me at the front door and exclaim, “Othenio tell me what you have learned!” and he would lift me up and sit me atop his broad shoulders and he would say, “Son someday all this will be yours.” and he would point out to the vast horizon and we would both laugh, his a deep fatherly laugh, the type that every little boy dreams of. As I emerged from the bush, only a couple of paces away from my house, I heard a blood curdling scream, the kind that instantly brings the most fearless men to a halt. I heard the sound of a truck rolling down a dirt road, American music blasting from the speakers and countless men singing along; I doubt they knew what the words meant, but they chanted along anyways. My father subsequently appeared from behind a wooden shack, first walking and then rapidly accelerating until he was in an all out sprint. A black pickup truck tailed closely behind him, its seven occupants armed with AK-47’s and belts of ammunition draped from either shoulder. My father spotted me as I began rushing towards him, and shot me a glance of desperation and horror, he waved his hands desperately, willing me back into the bush and I obeyed him. As I lay horrified across the dry soil, I peaked out between a cluster of tall grasses and watch my father as he stumbled on a thick root and collapse to the ground, tears flowing profusely out of his eyes. He begged me not to watch, not to watch as the men ran over his legs and torso, not to watch as they dragged him through the dirt and stripped him of his work clothes, mocking him all along, not to watch as they laid his naked body up against a wall and shot him three times in the arm, just to inflict pain, not to watch as a bullet pierced his skull and seized from me the only person I had ever loved in this cruel and unforgiving world. I had never hated anyone in my whole life as much as I hated these men, these cowards, these Hutu.

As I return to my village, a small coastal town on the banks of Lake Kivu, I find no trace of the day that has forever changed my life. The town was completely decimated during the war, and even though it has been less than 20 years since that day of great pain and sorrow, it seems as if it never happened. The people never talk about it, and upon further questioning the whole town denied being present the day my father died. It’s as if the most important day in my life had absolutely no importance in the lives of the rest of my village. For me it was the end of my world, but for them it was yet another day of massacre, just another day of hatred between brothers.

The Man I Killed

The Man I Killed

The Man I Killed is a depressing chapter that sets a very solemn mood for the story. This chapter tells the story of a time in which Tim O’Brien kills a young boy who he believes is being forced against his will. Tim seems to have perpetual knowledge about this boy and believes that the kid was a great student with a loving family and a bright future without any clear evidence to prove so. The Man I Killed is told by Tim O’Brien but it is a different Tim O’Brien then we have met in the previous chapters. Unlike the Tim O’Brien that we have seen in all the previous chapters who is full of thoughts and emotions and loves to dialogue with other characters, this one doesn’t ever mention a single word about his thoughts and feelings, let alone talk to another character. Kiowa attempts countless times to initiate a conversation with Tim, telling him that he did the right thing and that the kid himself was armed, but Tim just can’t get over the fact that he has killed another human being. In the next chapter, Ambush, Tim tells his account of the story and this time he shares what he was feeling at the moment and why he acted the way he did. One of the core reasons for his distress is that he truly believes that had he not just taken any action, the kid would have just gone his own way and lived a great life. In this chapter O’Brien keeps repeating his description of the boy just laying there on the trail over and over, focusing mainly on the beautiful aspects of the boy such as the star shaped hole in his eye, which was a result of the blast, and his clean black hair which implied that he was relatively new to the war.
In his description of the boy, O’Brien not only points out many of the physical aspects of the boy, but also much of the boy’s life, what he liked, what he disliked, what he dreamed of, who he loved, and so on and so on. As I read this I was baffled by how he could have known all these details about the kid’s life. Having just read Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer in which he has interviewed almost every single person who participated on the expedition to the top of Everest, the native guides included, I was used to the author having almost an unlimited pool of knowledge,but the degree of knowledge which O’Brien has on this kid was just too much for it to all be true. I had speculated for a while whether the whole entire story could be fake and he just completely made up this character from the ground up, I finally got my answer in a future chapter called Good Form in which he admits that he did not actually kill the boy but he was present and that his presence alone was enough to cause guilt. This finally answered my question of how exactly did Tim O’Brien know all this about the kid with one simple answer, he didn't. Tim doesn't actually know who the kid loved, what he studied at school, or how his family felt about the war, it is all made up, and by keeping that in mind, the story made much more sense than the first time I read it. But we all know that no great author like Tim O’Brien would just make up such a character, so after a lot of hard thought I finally concluded that the boy is actually a mirror image of how Tim O’Brien pictured himself before the war. One key example is when Tim says that the boy didn't agree with the causes of the war and didn't even want to be fighting but was forced to by the pressures of society, when compared to the views of Tim O’Brien in the chapter On the Rainy River, they are nearly identical. Another example is when he talks about how the kid was very intelligent and had a bright future, which sounds a lot like when Tim talks about how he graduated top of his class in High School and went on to College. I believe he tries to create this kid as a mirror image of himself so that he can relate to the kid and because he knows that at any moment it could be him who was lying on the ground with a star shaped hole where his eye used to be. This is one of the most powerful stories in the book and by far one of my favorites.

Sweetheart of the Song Tra Bong

Sweetheart of the Song Tra Bong

Up until the Sweetheart of the Song Tra Bong, we witness many powerful chapters but none to such a caliber as this one. When I began reading this chapter I was both utterly amazed that a soldier could get his girlfriend into such a dangerous and unforgiving war zone such as Vietnam, and skeptical that any of this really ever happened. Based on my knowledge of the Armed Forces of the United States I know that just recently were women allowed to enlist in the military and that to this day women cannot fight in the front lines such as the way Mary Anne did in this chapter. So based on that knowledge I would concur that this is all a fictitious story and that none of this ever happened but as we see as a recurring theme throughout this book, crazy things happen in war and I have no evidence to prove that this story is fake so I must assume that it is true.
In this chapter, a soldier named Mark Fossie is working at a secure location in Vietnam where he is seldom under attack and the environment is relatively safe,writes a letter to his girlfriend and six months later she arrives at the base in Vietnam. We go on to learn that Mary Anne is a very well rounded woman who is  smart, adventurous, pretty, and adored by everyone; but this doesn’t last. After just a few weeks of living at the base Mary Anne begins to change, the changes are subtle at first but they continue to escalate and soon she is heading off on night raids with the Special Forces team and killing people with her bare hands. Mary Anne’s transition to a killer is a baffling one and one that left me thinking for a while. What I finally realized is that Tim O’Brien tells us this story not because he was there or it was important to him, but because it symbolizes how Vietnam changes everyone. We had seen Vietnam change people in previous chapters but never before had we seen someone so innocent become so savage in such a short period of time. I think the important thing that O’Brien wants the reader to take away from this chapter is that no matter who you are, young or old, male or female, Vietnam will change you and there is nothing you can do about it.
Unlike most of the stories in this book which are narrated by Tim O’Brien (A different Tim O’Brien than the author) this one is narrated by Rat Kiley for multiple reasons. First of all, Sweetheart of the Song Tra Bong is one of the only chapters in which Tim is not present for or indirectly a part of, in the whole entire book, and for that reason I believe he has Rat Kiley narrate it so that it could have a more realistic feel to the story. Another reason I believe Tim O’Brien has Rat Kiley tell the story is because unlike most of the other stories in this novel which all seem realistic and have a hint of truth to them, Sweetheart of the Song Tra Bong seems far fetched and leaves even Tim O’Brien himself skeptical of whether or not this story ever happened. I feel that Rat Kiley did a great job at telling the story and that for the most part his story fits the criteria of a true war story. In the chapter How to Tell a True War Story, O’Brien lays out the basic criteria such as the story might be unbelievable, which this story definitely is, the story might be impossible to tell, which seems to be the case here, and that in a true war story nothing is absolutely true, which we can tell is true about this story. The only reason I believe that this story might not be considered a war story is because in a true war story you shouldn’t be able to separate the moral from the plot, but in this story there is the obvious moral that war changes everyone. This is probably one of the most dramatic chapters of the whole novel and I loved it.

Spin

Spin

When I read the line in Tim O’Brien’s The Things they Carried “All that peace, man, it felt so good it hurt. I just want to hurt it back.” I had a hard time trying to decipher what the author was saying. I believe you really have to think hard about what the man has gone through and how the war has changed him, to understand the true meaning of what he’s saying. The man had just been recuperating at a secure facility, away from the chaos of the war, with a beautiful Red Cross nurse, and then all of a sudden all he wants to do is return to the war, suffer sleepless nights behind enemy lines, living under the constant threat of being blown up from a land mine or shot in the head. From the security and and comfort of our bed from which we are reading this book, the comment seems absolutely ludicrous, but that’s because we haven’t shared the same experiences as the soldiers that fought day in and day out in the unforgiving jungles of Vietnam and now longs to return to the danger. One of the main problems soldiers have always faced and still face today is the challenge of re-adjusting to the dull, peaceful civilian life after fighting in a war. After living under such intense conditions these men have almost all accepted the fact that at any moment they might be blown to pieces or shot in the head.These men have already accepted death and they are willing to sacrifice their lives for their country and their beliefs. But when their tour of duty is completed or they are sent to a military hospital they are unprepared for the peace and tranquility, they are so unaccustomed to the peace that it hurts. These trained killing machines would rather be suffering the out in the front lines than be resting in a hospital with a lovely nurse and anything they wanted.
What I believe this quote says about peace is that it is only a concept embraced by civilians and that actual soldiers would rather be putting their lives in danger than be stuck in a peaceful hospital. Though this view of peace is not one that is accepted by all soldiers, that is how Tim O’Brien portrays peace in the book. What this tells us about the Vietnam War is that after fighting for so long in a hostile environment such as Vietnam, these men have all gained a certain respect and love for the pain and discomfort and that it took many men who probably never imagined themselves as soldiers such as Tim O’Brien, and turned them into fighters and killers. In this book we can see how the draft would take boys that would never consider killing another man, and then turn them into these creatures that just couldn't get enough of the pain and wanted to keep fighting. Though this man might seem courageous for returning to the front lines even after he’s been injured, I believe all he really is is just a boy whose sense of reasoning has been greatly distorted by the war.

War Letters

War Letters

Dear Mom and Dad,

As I lay here under the eerie cover of night, I attempt repeatedly to make out the physique of your faces but to no avail. It seems like ages since I last saw you on that bleak, sodden, September morning, as I pulled out of the driveway and headed for Reagan International Airport. I still see the disappointment in yours eyes, questioning the nature of this war, pleading me to run, anywhere, anywhere but the God forsaken country of Vietnam, but I must serve my country for I have dreams and those dreams do not consist of getting deported of or spending the rest of my life in jail. You know how much I hate war, you have raised me well, you taught me at a young age that thou shalt not kill, but the time comes when we must stand up for our beliefs and save a nation from the steel hard grip of communism. For it is not a secret that if one more nation falls into the clutch of communism the rest of the countries will fall like dominoes and before you know it we will be led by a tyrant and we will no longer have any freedoms. I know that me heading off to war greatly disturbs you, that after the death of my sister you desperately do not want to lose another child, but you must see that I am doing this for my children, so that they can live in the same great United States that I live in.

I've been marching through the dense jungles of Vietnam for a little over a month now and the experience has been life changing, I have finally gotten a chance to see the world, to experience a whole different culture. Sure it’s been hard transitioning to a whole new lifestyle, strict procedures, endless marches, have to patrol the perimeters of our camp at the darkest hours of the night, I have befriended many soldiers along the way and am now good friends with a man named Derek Mosher from Arizona. Earlier this week I discovered that he too will be attending Georgetown University upon his return to the United States he tells me that his father went there and says that it is a magnificent university. I will be going to Japan in three weeks for some R&R and I hope to be able to call you from there. I am writing to you because you are the only people whose impressions I find important and I know that I hurt you both greatly by denying you advice and marching off to war but I hope you can forgive me and I hope that upon my arrival we can reconcile and patch up the gaping whole in our relationship. I just want to share these thoughts with you because I want you to know that I feel safe and secure and I don’t want you to worry about me, tell the family and neighbors that I say hello and I hope to see them soon. I have spared you the details of the war because I know that they will only further hinder our relationship and worry you even more but just know that I am safe and no matter what happens you have my word that I will see you soon as the same boy that left home just a few months ago. I love you all very much and I hope to talk to you soon.

Love, Patrick

The Things they Carried

The Things they Carried

My parents beg me to remove unnecessary textbooks and dead weight from my backpack on nearly a daily basis, claiming that it weighs so much that it’s going to break my back. The conversation is so common now that it has practically become part of my morning routine for getting to school. My backpack is saturated with bold three subject notebooks, which for the most part are unnecessary for the bulk of my classes; dense textbooks, which contribute to the greater part of the weight; a recently purchased Toshiba laptop, though its condition tells a different story; a binder, which is the key to my organization and the home to all my worksheets and supplies; and last, but certainly not least, my electronics such as my cellphone and my iPod which are the center of all my communications and entertainment.
The most important item I chose to hump with me every day I believe is my smart phone. With my phone not only can a have a conversation in real time with someone on the other side of the globe in real time, but I can explore the vast ends of the Internet, see a picture of Uncle Jeff’s new dog just seconds after he posts it, and even find my way back home from practically any location on the face of the earth. Communications have developed exponentially in the past century to the degree that I find it nearly impossible to relate to my parent’s old stories of calling collect since they ran out of money or calling the operator before being able to speak to anyone. Such advanced communications have become such a major component of nearly everyone’s lives nowadays that we perform incredible feats without even thinking twice about them. Calling, texting, and using social media have become such fundamental aspects of our everyday lives that we can barely fathom a world without them. Though cell phones seem like such integral parts of our lives today, I have no doubt that in 10 years people will be astounded by how we were able to survive with such primitive technology.
Another item that I chose to hump everyday are my multiple three subject notebooks. This summer as I prepared for my journey into the unknown abyss of High School I had received so much information about what life as a High Schooler would be like, that my distorted view of how challenging High School was, caused me to panic and buy all three subject notebooks. I believe my colossal notebooks with only a few pages written in, symbolizes my expectations of how difficult High School would be and how difficult it really is. With the exception of my AP European History notebook, which is nearly full after less than a semester, my notebooks are generally empty and I believe that this not symbolizes my expectations and my reality, but it also represents how our society has changed. Gone are the days where I would sit peacefully at my desk with my notebook and a sharp number two pencil and write a story, nowadays we all collaborate on Google Docs, or write our essays using Microsoft Word. I kind of miss the feeling of crisp paper and spiral bound notebooks, but we live in a modern age and we must embrace it.
I believe that what I choose to hump everyday not only represents me and who I am, but it shows who we as a society have become an I think that is the important thing to take away from this.

The Vietnam War

Vietnam War

Before our intriguing lesson on the Vietnam War, the vast majority of my knowledge derived from Hollywood and occasional trips to the Vietnam War Memorial on especially sunny summer days in Washington DC. Sure I knew the basics of the war, United States vs. the Viet Cong, the time period in which the war was fought, the reason the United States entered the war, sure I knew that there were many people who were strongly opposed to the war and the draft that made it so controversial, but what I failed to realize was the caliber of such actions, the consequences of the war, the degree of the protests against the war, the intense hate for the war. One of the things that shocked me was when I found out that 60% of the men on tours of duty in Vietnam were 21 and under,they were just boys who had been persuaded by the fear of disappointing society and their families to accept the draft and head into the dense, unforgiving jungle of Vietnam.
One of my biggest misconceptions of the Vietnam War was my failure to realize the importance of the television on the war. Before this war, few Americans had the ability to watch what was happening in foreign wars and what they could see was mainly propaganda, but throughout the course of the war the TV became most Americans primary source for getting the news and now these families could watch the horrors of the war from their living rooms. Unlike previous wars where the footage released was edited and mainly propaganda, this footage was uncut and showed the everyday american family something they found themselves unable to handle anymore and these protests are ultimately what helps bring this war to an end.
As we continue to read The Things they Carried and discuss the Vietnam War, I find my knowledge of the war, which I previously thought was impressive, lacking and I find myself learning new facts about the war every few pages. This is a very dark chapter in American history and one that I hope we can learn a valuable lesson from.