Final Project Portfolio

Final Portfolio

Two Letters
Letter to soldier of the past
Letter to The American People

Analysis
Russian War Photo
Civil War Photo
Onion Analysis
Google Earth Demilitarized Korea

Group Effort
Poem Analysis


Creative Pieces
Seven War Haiku
A Soldier's Journal
Story from a Picture
My Own Post
I Remember...

Google Earth Image

Google Earth is an amazing tool that allows one to see all of the wonders of the world, as well of many things that are not quite so great. One such sight that Google Earth exposes to the public is that of war torn areas around the world. In my search for this heavily damaged areas of the world, it occurred to me to look t the Demilitarized Zone between North and South Korea. When I looked, I was surprised at what I saw.

I had expected a barren wasteland, without any life whatsoever. I had assumed that this area, the dividing line between two enemies would be torn apart, pockmarked with craters and burnt remains of what used to lie there. Instead what I saw was a luscious jungle, where wildlife was flourishing between the outposts on either side of the strip. There were few if any traces of the war that had once ravaged these lands.

While I thought about this, it began to make sense, and to become an excellent microcosm of a world without violence. This is what a demilitarized world would be like, without weapons to cause violence and strife, mankind and the world could heal the scars of the past and begin to grow unfettered into a better and brighter future. This is indeed a strong case against war, if ever there was one.

When I first searched for this I was expecting a scene that would sadden me. Instead what I found was a scene containing a powerful message of hope, with a lesson for us all to learn from.

My Own Post

Prompt: Write a poem about war, and expressing your thoughts on war, without using any words related to violence (i.e. struggle, guns, fist, anger, war, fight, etc.)

Is it worth it?

The silence masks the midday sun,
The world under a foreign shadow.
A deserted land crossed with tracks,
where men with nervous faces fidget.

Is it worth it?

Men prepare, for what they do not know
and all is silent. Still silent. Then on the horizon
more men. Another pack, as large as the first.
The move to meet under the scorching desert sun.
There arms connect in a strange embrace.

Is it worth it?

And the earth begins to hum.
Quiet at first, then louder.
What approaches none know.
They wonder what they go toward,
and know it cannot be right.

Is it worth it?

Then a night begins.
And when the sun arises,
none are left to tell the story
None are left to answer the burning question

Is it worth it?

And in another land, another time
men with nervous faces begin to fidget.
and still do not know...

Funny Wording, Serious Topic

The Onion Link
At face value, this is a very amusing article. It seems funny and lighthearted, never taking a serious tone. It mocks the Bush speech that declared victory in Iraq, by describing how many "Victory Deaths," or deaths of our soldier since we became victorious, there have been. Midway through the article though, one realizes that this satire is actually not so funny.

By continuously using the word victory as an adjective before almost every fact, The Onion hammers on the point that victory should not involve constant deaths of soldiers, or huge debates about whether Iraq could handle itself if the United States pulled out, or even an immediate need to pull out. In other words, the article makes it very clear that the situation in Iraq today is not a victorious situation.

At this point, the reader begins to question how there has been any victory in Iraq at all. Soldiers are dying at a more rapid rate than before we were "victorious," the situation seems to have gotten far more perilous for our men and women since we supposedly won the war, and it dawns on the reader just how hopeless the situation in Iraq really is if this is considered victory.

At this point the article compares Iraq to Vietnam, relating the current situation to the infamous quagmire of the end of the Vietnam war. The reader realizes begins to despair of ever being out of Iraq, as all of these new insights occur to him. He sees how the people of Iraq, like the Vietnamese, do not support our cause, he sees how politics will not allow us to lose face by backing out, and he sees no easy solution to the problem.

The articles purpose was to draw the readers attention to just how bad the situation in Iraq really is, and through mock humor it does exactly that with an effectiveness that could not have been accomplished any other way.

To the forgotten...

To the Heroes of the Past,
I know what it must be like, looking down on the world from wherever you are today. I can imagine what you are feeling, and I know that it must seem like all you fought for is being lost with each passing of the day; that the memory of you and what you stood, and died, for is fading away. You must feel as though your blood was spilled for little or nothing. It must look as though we are now ruining what you created. You see the low voter turn out rates, the apathy towards a war no one approves of, the disgusting state that we keep our poor and helpless in, and so much more that we are failing in. You must be wondering if we even deserve democracy.

I am writing to tell you that we do. It may seem like all of us are apathetic, and indeed many of us may be, but there are those of us who are not. There are many of us who lose sleep over the state of this nation, who want change more than anything, and who, like you, would do anything to keep this nation alive, and make it better. We are the ones who continue to fill the voting booths, who cry out against the war, and who hold the signs on the streets. Our love of the United States powers us against hopeless odds. We are your legacy and we will not let this nation die. As things get worse our voices yell louder. For our sakes, have hope. You and your legacy will not be forgotten.

If I Were a Soldier...

August 1, 2008,
Day 97 for me in the God forsaken desert, and today was just like the past 96 of them. Just like the past 96 days the sand got stuck in my teeth, the sun scorched my back, and I spent the whole day wondering if it would be my last as I patrolled the streets of my zone. It is getting monotonous. That is a very bad thing. It is when it gets boring that people make mistakes. If you watch the guys who have been here he longest, they are always jumpy. They see things where there is nothing, getting feeling in their guts when they have absolutely no reason to, and fear things that should not be feared. They are not cowards, they just don't want to get bored. They don't want to end up dead.
I don't know what to do, part of me becomes complacent as another part of me becomes angry. I want to go home, but to linger on that thought just makes the days longer, I don't support the cause, but to linger on that just makes you vainly frustrated; in turn one just becomes complacent. To think about any aspect of anything around here too long would drive you crazy. Instead we think and talk about nothings. Irrelevant things that don't matter, and that don't remind you of things you don't want to dwell on.
Today the Humvee in front of mine exploded. All three of its crew members were killed. It didn't even phase me. I went through the routine reactions, but until know I never thought of the passengers. This war is slowly destroying us. Our bodies may make it out, but our minds never will. But today is over. Home is one day closer. I m still alive...

The Seven War Haiku's

1. The light at dusk fades,
Another day of violence,
The soldiers tear falls.

2. A home was once here,
Now a crater in its stead.
The fog of this war?

3. In their cushioned chairs,
The suited men cast their votes.
Another lost soul.

4. The finger pulls back.
A life lost on the balance.
Justice or power?

5. In silence he hangs.
The world cheers his public death.
In despair God sighs.

6. The night is waiting.
Then the pilot whispers "drop".
In the east, evil light.

7. The poor he kept down.
Rivals crushed, his power kept.
When is what's wrong right?

John had never done anything like this before. He had been on the streets all his life, but never had he hurt someone else in order to fuel his Rastafarian lifestyle. As he watched the old man, gingerly step out of the understated black Mercedes, he swallowed the bile that had welled up from his stomach, and fingered the pen knife in his jacket pocket. John had been following this grumpy old man and planning this attack for the past three weeks, ever since his spiteful complaints had led to John's forced resignation at a local used book store. He no longer got to lounge around and read the classics, occasionally ringing up a customer all day, because the old man felt as though he had not been properly treated. Anger at the cruelty of the world raged in John. As the old man turned the key to his apartment door, John stepped out from the corner he had been hiding in and slowly made his way across the parking lot. In his head the battle raged. He knew the old man could solve all his problems, he was obviously wealthy, but at the same time, he wondered at once expense to his soul this ill-gotten wealth would come. His desperation fought with his conscious as John made his way up the stair case. The old man was bending down to pick up his groceries, and John could see how helpless he was. the bulge of his wallet, as well as the obvious luxury of the apartment within tempted John to the very depths of his soul. He could see himself drinking that bottle of wine in that leather recliner watching the 58 inch plasma TV, to some degree he could even justify the attack. As John made the last couple steps to the old man, he felt himself bending down. He picked up one of the bags and handed it to the old man, looking away in shyness as he did so. As he walked away he felt that something significant had just happened although he didn't understand exactly what it was.