Can someone critique my narrative essay for me...(ie Grammar, sentence structure, etc.)
But the biggest thing is my thesis (Which is in bold letters)...I need to have a more solid thesis, so please help me. I only have 2 more days till this assignment is due.
Death Didn't Choose Me
It was Monday, May 7th, 2007, when death approached me just to slap me in the face, smile, and then simply walk away. Being a rather routine day in the Mahmudiyah "Triangle of Death," located in southern Baghdad, Iraq, complacency was not a tolerable option for me and the twelve soldiers convoying to the western neighbor named Yusufiyah. It was an early morning mission and the sun, scarcely appearing over the desert horizon, highlighted the landscape with beautiful orange glaze. The road, known as Tampa, is an exceedingly dangerous area and is a key supply route throughout the "Triangle of Death." Tampa is one of the few roads in Iraq that are paved, making it easier on military vehicles; however, since it is a highly used road, it became the source of many terrorist attacks. The road is littered every few miles with the evident remains of IED's (Improvised Explosive Devices). Seeing enormous holes in the road is not an uncommon thing. Lieutenant Coolich, our team leader, was in charge of our convoys and traveled in the lead gun truck. The second gun truck was composed of four soldiers, including myself. Specialist Dutchantaleer was the driver, Specialist Wittmer manned the fifty caliber machine gun, I rode in the back behind the driver, and Sergeant Dunn was the front passenger monitoring the radio and BFT (Blue Force Tracker); commonly known in its civilian term as GPS (Global Positioning System). The mission on this fateful day will always serve, in my mind, as a true example of fear; furthermore, the people involved will never forget this fear, and they will never forget the man who lost his life.
Action, something soldiers like to call getting shot at or blown up, was not something we were ignorant of; however, it was not something we were anxious to encounter. Tampa had been courteous to us so far, and we did not want to become victims to its horrible reputation, so the radios stayed silent, and our faces remained sharp. This is a situation when fear begins to do strange things to a person's mind. I struggle hard to concentrate on my surroundings, but at the same time distancing myself from the reality of danger. Lieutenant Coolich interrupts the silence, snapping me back into reality, with a horrifying scream of IED. By the time the lead gun truck made visual contact with the obstruction in the road it was already too late. The driver swerved aimlessly around it pushing the front end of his vehicle into a ditch on the right side of the road, leaving the explosive device exposed to the gun truck I was in. The device exploded, sending a collection of hot metal, fire, and rock directly at us. Time slowed to a virtual halt. The high pitched noise rang a continuous note in my head while the event played in slow motion, every detail passing frame by frame. I remember looking down to shield the blast while noticing the eight inch thick steel door peel back a quarter size hole, followed by white smoke and debris rushing in. As my door began to open from the outside, I heard someone transmit over the radio that Sergeant Dunn was down. At this point I remember seeing the color blue, as if all my senses merged into one super visual sensory experience portrayed as the color blue.
The next sensation I experienced was a slight pain in my spine. As the color faded away I woke up lying on my back facing the desert sky, no longer beautiful. My comrade had yanked me out of the vehicle and was dragging me down the main street of Tampa to secure me in a safe place. We were undergoing small arms fire when I remembered the transmission over the radio that Sergeant Dunn was down. I remember seeing the fifty caliber from the lead gun truck fire a short burst of rounds into a nearby patch of dense vegetation, killing the enemy. All wounded personnel were in the process of being evacuated, except Sergeant Dunn. The convoy was quickly rerouted from its previous mission and ordered to return back to base. Shortly after I returned safely back to Mahmudiyah I learned that Sergeant Dunn received multiple shrapnel wounds to the abdomen and was killed instantly. Specialist Dutchantaleer was hit in his face and behind his ear with small particles of shrapnel and was shortly released from the medical station. Specialist Wittmer and I were both lucky enough to get out alive with only a couple scratches. When we returned home, after fifteen months in hell, the soldiers in my battalion held a ceremony in honor of Sergeant Dunn. His family received an American flag, folded neatly into a tiny triangle. Specialist Dutchantaleer now suffers from extreme PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) and night terrors that replay this event in his dreams. The fear, resulting from the events that occurred, have forever been stenciled in the back of my mind and serve as a motivation to not take death for granted; however, the fear instilled a greater motivation for me to view life, in all aspects, as a significant reward. Death not only slapped me in the face, smiled, and walked away; it forever darkened my life, the life of others, and took away my Sergeant, my friend.
I understand the thesis is supposed to sum up the entire essay, but I am not sure if I did this. If you can come up with something better, then please...Please...help!
-Thank You
But the biggest thing is my thesis (Which is in bold letters)...I need to have a more solid thesis, so please help me. I only have 2 more days till this assignment is due.
Death Didn't Choose Me
It was Monday, May 7th, 2007, when death approached me just to slap me in the face, smile, and then simply walk away. Being a rather routine day in the Mahmudiyah "Triangle of Death," located in southern Baghdad, Iraq, complacency was not a tolerable option for me and the twelve soldiers convoying to the western neighbor named Yusufiyah. It was an early morning mission and the sun, scarcely appearing over the desert horizon, highlighted the landscape with beautiful orange glaze. The road, known as Tampa, is an exceedingly dangerous area and is a key supply route throughout the "Triangle of Death." Tampa is one of the few roads in Iraq that are paved, making it easier on military vehicles; however, since it is a highly used road, it became the source of many terrorist attacks. The road is littered every few miles with the evident remains of IED's (Improvised Explosive Devices). Seeing enormous holes in the road is not an uncommon thing. Lieutenant Coolich, our team leader, was in charge of our convoys and traveled in the lead gun truck. The second gun truck was composed of four soldiers, including myself. Specialist Dutchantaleer was the driver, Specialist Wittmer manned the fifty caliber machine gun, I rode in the back behind the driver, and Sergeant Dunn was the front passenger monitoring the radio and BFT (Blue Force Tracker); commonly known in its civilian term as GPS (Global Positioning System). The mission on this fateful day will always serve, in my mind, as a true example of fear; furthermore, the people involved will never forget this fear, and they will never forget the man who lost his life.
Action, something soldiers like to call getting shot at or blown up, was not something we were ignorant of; however, it was not something we were anxious to encounter. Tampa had been courteous to us so far, and we did not want to become victims to its horrible reputation, so the radios stayed silent, and our faces remained sharp. This is a situation when fear begins to do strange things to a person's mind. I struggle hard to concentrate on my surroundings, but at the same time distancing myself from the reality of danger. Lieutenant Coolich interrupts the silence, snapping me back into reality, with a horrifying scream of IED. By the time the lead gun truck made visual contact with the obstruction in the road it was already too late. The driver swerved aimlessly around it pushing the front end of his vehicle into a ditch on the right side of the road, leaving the explosive device exposed to the gun truck I was in. The device exploded, sending a collection of hot metal, fire, and rock directly at us. Time slowed to a virtual halt. The high pitched noise rang a continuous note in my head while the event played in slow motion, every detail passing frame by frame. I remember looking down to shield the blast while noticing the eight inch thick steel door peel back a quarter size hole, followed by white smoke and debris rushing in. As my door began to open from the outside, I heard someone transmit over the radio that Sergeant Dunn was down. At this point I remember seeing the color blue, as if all my senses merged into one super visual sensory experience portrayed as the color blue.
The next sensation I experienced was a slight pain in my spine. As the color faded away I woke up lying on my back facing the desert sky, no longer beautiful. My comrade had yanked me out of the vehicle and was dragging me down the main street of Tampa to secure me in a safe place. We were undergoing small arms fire when I remembered the transmission over the radio that Sergeant Dunn was down. I remember seeing the fifty caliber from the lead gun truck fire a short burst of rounds into a nearby patch of dense vegetation, killing the enemy. All wounded personnel were in the process of being evacuated, except Sergeant Dunn. The convoy was quickly rerouted from its previous mission and ordered to return back to base. Shortly after I returned safely back to Mahmudiyah I learned that Sergeant Dunn received multiple shrapnel wounds to the abdomen and was killed instantly. Specialist Dutchantaleer was hit in his face and behind his ear with small particles of shrapnel and was shortly released from the medical station. Specialist Wittmer and I were both lucky enough to get out alive with only a couple scratches. When we returned home, after fifteen months in hell, the soldiers in my battalion held a ceremony in honor of Sergeant Dunn. His family received an American flag, folded neatly into a tiny triangle. Specialist Dutchantaleer now suffers from extreme PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) and night terrors that replay this event in his dreams. The fear, resulting from the events that occurred, have forever been stenciled in the back of my mind and serve as a motivation to not take death for granted; however, the fear instilled a greater motivation for me to view life, in all aspects, as a significant reward. Death not only slapped me in the face, smiled, and walked away; it forever darkened my life, the life of others, and took away my Sergeant, my friend.
I understand the thesis is supposed to sum up the entire essay, but I am not sure if I did this. If you can come up with something better, then please...Please...help!
-Thank You