Tim O’Brien “How to Tell a True War Story”

The words, which describe the character wander kylie sharp venerable eyes tight little strokes of the wrist he precious me to swear big gentle pop uper eyes little barbaric they were kids they in force(p) didnt know discover almost bawls writing it they were like person mates. The words, which do not describe the character barmy in a good way real daredevil nineteen years grey-headed and it is to a fault much for him. The guys real name was docking facility Kiley, save everyone was calling him musk turtle (OBrien 174).He had lost his friend short(predicate) scum bag in Vietnam, plainly this loss happened beyond any military actions, when they were contend with grenades (they were real kids) rump had actually lost his soul mate. Reading the story, Rats character created an impression of being flat. However, coming to the storys end, it is evident that huge sufferings are hidden behind the boyish behavior. This childish behavior has indirectly be espouse the cause of tragedy, and suffering through this loss, Rat reveals his round dynamic character.He tries to forget his pain, hardly the fact that he feels it is the attri thoe of his deep soul, which was alterd in the cruelties of the Vietnam warfare. Curt stinkpot is the character around which Rats actions and thoughts are concentrated. They spent most of their cadence together and what they entangle up towarfareds each other was real human relationship. The unexpected loss was so demanding for Rat that he didnt hesitate to mail a earn to Lemons sister. This letter has become the expression of his timbers, his sorrow, and his crush memories somewhat that person. Re-writing the story from Rats perspectiveThe twenty-four hour period didnt predict anything tragic. We go through the river the mountains were in the west, and we had to direct our efforts there. We have already spent three years marching, and it already seemed monotonousso wellwe were trying to entertain ourselves, and in a second Curt Lemon was dead. He simply stepped on a booby-trapped 105 round. One second and the man was gone forever. We were playing, we were laughing, and then, break through of sudden, he was dead. I didnt notice that the whole hour had passed sooner we cut eat up the thick grass for the emergency helicopter to land.Surprisingly, the day didnt change the weather was the same, and we kept marching. The only thing was that Curt was not with us anymore. Higher in the mountains Ive noticed a baby VC water cow. I had no idea how I could come across it so high in the mountains, and it was probably unexpected for me, that at that moment I could think of anything else besides Curt. I managed to get a rope around the baby buffalo and to lead it with us to the village, where we had to plosive for the night. I stroked the baby buffalos nose, I tried to twirl it come pork or beans, but it didnt seem interested. I shrugged but I felt, how enraged I was.At that time I didnt und erstand, what caused those feelings inside me, but now I know that Curts death had made me angry angry for being incapable to change anything and to return him to support. I crack cocaine the buffalo through the front knee. I was shocked at the animal not showing any take of stress it didnt cry. It was silent, though it fell hard onto the ground but then got up again, and at that moment I savour off its ear I kept shooting and I could see it hurt, but for some reason I could not kill it. I would neer make it suffer, but something inside me was pr point outting me from shooting right.I had no idea what others were thinking, but they were definitely watching each move and each shot I made. I was the only one to know, what it meant to me Lemon was dead and he had been the crush friend in the world. I am not sure whether it was a question of pain, and what pain one whitethorn mean here. I didnt know whether physical pain could be measured or even compared to the honorable pain I felt. I could not understand what I was doing, it was all smoke and I hardly remember whether I had shot the buffalos tail it was as if I were dreaming. I shot it into the throat.I didnt want it to experience those physical tortures anymore. I can let off remember its eyes enormous, shiny, and dumb. I can remember myself crying. I wanted to say how sorry I was for both the buffalo and for Lemon, but separate didnt let any word come out. I mum I call for some freedom, some silence and some time to think, to try to recover and to ultimately feel better. I left the baby, may be it was still alive, but I didnt know it. I just knew that it was fighting for its life, the chance which Lemon didnt have. It will delay my sin forever, but my pain was enormous to hide it inside.I dont still understand for whom I feel worse for the baby buffalo Ive killed or for Lemon who didnt have a one chance to survive. What I know for sure is that Lemon didnt go through the pain, which baby buffa lo felt before it died. I withal understand that this death could become neither physical, nor moral compensation for Lemons death. This is what I think now At that time I was not thinking anything. The baby buffalos death ashes my biggest weakness the inability to keep emotions inside. Later that week I wrote a letter to Lemons sister to tell her what a long guy her brother had been.I have written several funny stories from our life I think that the letter turned to be very personal, even touching. I was almost bawling, because I could not accept the fact of his death. He had been the man able to turn the war into fun. He was right for war, and his attitudes towards war were also right. I clearly understood and I really felt that I would never learn any reply from that young girl, but I needed that writing to release my emotions and express what I was feeling about Lemon. Even when I pretended being angry at her, and called her dumb cooze, it was nothing but a mask I didnt w ant anyone know that I could feelJustification I determined to focus on Rat Kileys character. The writer emphasizes his listless attitude towards life. Listen to Rat Jesus Christ, man, I write this handsome fucking letter, I slave over it, and what happens? The dumb cooze never writes bottom (OBrien 175). What I think is that Rat didnt even expect to receive any reply from Lemons sister he needed this letter to express what he had inside, and simultaneously he had to support his impression of a guy nineteenth years old and its too much for him (OBrien 175).I was interested in viewing the story through his perspective, because I initially felt Rat could have been depict incompatiblely, less crazy and more humane. As a result, the events in the narrative would look diametric through Rats perspective. After Lemon was dead, Rat could not find himself. He did not know how he could neutralize the moral pain he had inside. Again, the author could lead the narration in a different direction. Rat was shooting the baby buffalo it wasnt to kill it was just to hurt (OBrien 179).Has anyone thought that Rat might have not clearly understood what he was doing? The fact that he was crying was the best proof that his actions had been absolutely uncontrolled. Moreover, his negligence has proved to be only spring up he was deeply suffering through the loss of his friend at his nineteen years he could consider himself happy for having experienced the kinship he felt towards Lemon. My goal was to portray Rat through different features, not the features which the author used in the narration. I suppose that the author has not looked too deep into Rats soul.OBrien has created an image of Rats cruelty towards the animal, and the readers perceive him as a little crazy. Simultaneously, he has not emphasized many features which make Rat a real human. Even the scene of animal killing could have been depicted differently, through the prism of Rats moral sufferings. Rat Kiley w as crying (OBrien 180), and that cry was the difficult acknowledgement of the fact that Lemon would never come back. Works cited OBrien, Tim. How to Tell a True War Story. Postmodern American Fiction A Norton Anthology. P. Geyh ed. New York W. W. Norton, 1992, 174-183.