 Hello, iKyasama.
This has been an exciting read, going back to my days in the army; I can remember awakening once from a Lt. while three of us took an illfated nap. We could have been crushed by tanks and APC's running around in the night as our tank company was ambushed by the mech infantry. What a rude way to be brought into the living.
This little story has a lot of energy in it, unfortunately, I disagreed with the construction of the tense state; past versus the present. You attempted, in my opinion of course to create the first person while, I sensed a strong narration. This is very difficult to do in my opinion and even for me it is a challenge to even critique such work heavily, I gave it my best shot.
Plot:
A young soldier is awoken while on guard duty in his fox hole, new to the front line reconasaince intantry, most likely the Marine Corps durring WWll somewhere along the Pacific islands. Even worse for this young fellow is he's new to the military altogether, double jeapordy.
Amid his desperate attempt to regain his composure, sleep still holds to him, his memories kick into gear of his recent past.
A sudden realization brings him to his captors, terror grabs hold of him like never before, in a flash of thought his entire life spins before him. Set as a trap, he soon discovers he was allowed to lure the enemy into his vicinity for slaughter.
Grammer:
I felt the past and present tense had the impact that caused me to edit as, I did. Had the narration, first person and his thoughts been portrayed in the manner, I feel, I understand this would have been nearly flawless.
My thoughts:
An incredibly difficult story to write let alone attempt to write. There is so much more that could have been added to reflect the detail of war, death, suffering of all involved and the agony. Still, you did a wonderful job and the vision of this desperate soldier came through, the action and portrayal of the enemy fell short of what, I envisioned but, you detailed before and after so well it came together.
Job well done!
Line Edits:
Chaos ensues.
One minute he's is crouched in the foxhole, his rifle a companion with the jungle silence his serenade. He's d been up for three hours, with barely an hour of much-needed sleep from the previous days manuevers before being kicked awake by the Sarge. His growling voice blasted upon him. "Wake the fuck up shithead, those Japs will slice your worthless neck. You'll be on the next shift if you don't get your ass into gear!" Words of anger plasterd into his mind This would be what would be racing through his mind as he desperately would try to awaken, obvioulsy heard before. He's being the youngest of the men, barely nineteen - still a fucking virgin. He{c;blue} is resents ment being treated as a kid was strong was not usually used is a good choice here; suffers ed all the jokes the older soldiers make just because he was transferred to recon as a rookie to the Pacific. So what if he hasn't seen combat yet? It didn't mean he wasn't as tough as they were. He knew this platoon had fought in the Tanaka campaign and they were almost revered as heroes for seizing the Japanese base down there. He considered it an honor to be called up to replace one whose legs had been blown off by shrapnel. Yet here he lay, wiping the sleep from his eyes and panicked by the cursing sergeant.
And yet tThey got their kicks by teasing him whenever he tried to make conversation. During a card game one night, he was close to winning, but the Sarge - a man only in his early thirties, although the hard suffered I think this would read better, war is such a horrid experience especially this war. lines of war were now etched on his weathered face - had glared coldly at him, forcing him to fake a losing hand and withdraw back into his tent with shame. He had curled up beneath his damp mold-woolenAny one who enjoys a good war story knows the color of the army issue color You could add a touch to the condition of the blanket in regard to the mold. Every soldier who enters a unit is issued his gear, the blanket being one and durring this time period, laundering was not on top priority. If possible it was hung over a line to air out. green blanket, squeezed his eyes shut against the distant sound of flares, tracers and gunfire, and winced as the booming sound would shake the very ground he lay on. How he missed his mother and his girl. Hell, he knew he should have taken her cherry that night at the soldiers' send-off. She was practically begging for it. At least it would have put him on equal footing with the guys here, especially when they began to speak of all the women they had slept around with back home.This is good, it reminds me of my time in the army
He does have a friend though. The goy, Goldstein, who is quiet and likes to write in his diary a lot. Goldstein has a son back home and likes to share the only picture of his wife and kid with him. On evenings when they aren't on patrol, he'll talk in that sonorous voice of his, telling of his plans to open a shop in the Brooklyn area and sell candy for five cents apiece. It's a nice dream, but he thinks Goldstein doesn't have a snowball's chance in hell. I think it would be good to offer insight for his thoughts on his view of, Goldsteins's future aspirations. He does wish him luck though. This entire paragraph is in present tense, I know you are doing first person but, any thoughts should be in italics. This reads more like a first person and narrative. does have, who is, likes to, write, has a son, likes to share, but he thinks, doesn't have, are all present tense wording.
"Anatano te wo secchi shinasai!" "Put up your hands!"
He's jJ erked back to reality at the harsh command, terror seizing his muscles and causing his legs to buckle. He's d soiled his pants, since the events had happened so fast, he barely had time to control himself.
A mistake. It had only been one brief moment of weakness. His lashes growing heavier by the second as weariness took control of his body. The blistering trek through the jungle had taken its toll. His young body was still not used to that level of physical exertion and he could have sworn he had sleepwalked several times through the night. He knew his feet had begun to bleed after a while and had winced as Delaney, the medic, had applied some foot treatment to it. It had helped...but only for a few hours. Fat load of good that did.
He cannot understand what they are saying. Panic fills his insides as he falls to his knees and places his hands behind his head in surrender. Hot tears leak from his eyes and run down his cheeks, snot mingling to slip into his parted and moist lips. He sobs helplessly as the men continue to shout at him. How many are there? Five? Six? Ten? Where are the others in his platoon? Have they abandoned him? How long had the Japs known they were right across the river? How long had they been waiting for the Americans to show their faces? These should be his thought in italics
"Please," he begins to stammer, no longer caring if he's going against the code of his country. {c:blue{ His thoughts in italics He can't die here. Not tonight. Not now. He's still a young kid. He's still got a lot to live for. Who's gonna take care of his momma when he's gone? He's got to marry his girl. He promised her that much.
"Anatano namae ha nande aruka?! Taha dokoniaruka?!" "What is your name? Where are the others?! "
"I'm just like you!" he suddenly screams ed. Their words are driving{c:blue{ove him crazy, the brick wall of miscommunication threatening to crush him beneath its weight. The onenearest with the gun pointed at his temple barely looksed a year older than himself. He canould see the fright in those narrow black eyes, the strain on that pale flesh and realizes that they are in the same boat. Just two kids stuck in the middle of something they'd rather not be a part of. The concept of war had seemed exciting at first - game boys This is too much of a flash forward, you want to maintain the time period for your characters, "POV" and your reader, by adding the game boy your reader (me) was yanked from this time period and suddenly a conflict of time ensued. War games would be play ed on boards with plastic Plastic was barely an item back then, steel and wood was the norm for toys men and battleships. Reality was a whole other story.
"Taha dokoniaruka?!!" "Where are the others?!"
"I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'RE SAYING!"
The click of the trigger and the subsequent press of the cold steel weaponbarrel against his temple break broke his final resolve.
"MY NAME IS PETER BOYD," he screams ed in terror. "I'M AN AMERICAN! I'M AMERICAN!"
A sudden rapport of gunfire sends t his mind reeling into an abyss of despair and quiet resignation. He fe{x{els lt something warm splash upon his face and licks ed his lips to taste the red fluid even as he finds found himself falling to the ground in a faint. There are Amid a mingle of disembodied cries and screams, and he barely feels lt the strong arms of his comrades dragging him back to safety and away from his now dead slaugtered now, I think is an adjective, either way it did not fit and dead was too kind for the image you desired for me to recieve. captors.
"Fucking Japbait," growls ed the Sarge as he spits saliva spat maintain the past tense and create the image of the sargeant, the atmosphere is extremely humid and his own emotions are at their peak out in disgust. "Get him clean Dump his ass in that impact crater so he can clean his fucking ass No soldier is going to play nurse or cleaning maid for another who screws up, he'll be tossed to care for himself. This would also serve as a hard earned experience he would never forget. for chrisssakes and let's get the fuck out of here."
Once again, this has been a tremendous read, it was filled with everything, I enjoy in a story containing the visionary work necessary for a scene of war.
These are my thoughts and opinions, you may discard any or all at your leisure.
Great work.
imagine.
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