pickThis had some graphic descriptions of war which could be hard at times, but I enjoyed it. The author got drafted to serve a year in Vietnam, and this is hia story about that year.
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If I Die in a Combat Zone: Box Me Up and Ship Me Home | 
pickThis had some graphic descriptions of war which could be hard at times, but I enjoyed it. The author got drafted to serve a year in Vietnam, and this is hia story about that year.
Yeah, it‘s a project. 📚💡🕰📺🎙
Finally! I'm actually reading this masterpiece. I adore O'Brien and have put it off too long! My dad served in the Air Force in the 70s and still remembers the same dirty songs O'Brien reccounts from boot camp. Also shout-out to @Kimberlone for the sweet #riverdale sticker and book of the month club membership gifted for my Birthday yesterday. #beachreads #santamarta #colombia #teachersoflitsy
RIOTGRAMS DAY 1: Not exactly a #shelfie, but here are the books occupying my nightstand currently. Reading It on my nook, still working my way through my Outlander reread, haven‘t started the other three yet, but I‘m especially excited for the Tim O‘Brien borrowed from @Saknicole since I‘ve been watching the Vietnam War documentary series. #riotgrams #day1
These are the two books I'm bringing on my long camping weekend, so I think they'll fit for #Riotgrams #Day10 #booksinthewild. Hoping to finish Wolf Hall and get started on the Tim O'Brien!
First up on the summer reading list. Just 35 essays and the last day of school between me and Tim O'Brien. #teachersoflitsy #lastdayofschool
I went through a Tim O'Brien / 'Nam phase in high school, spurred on by my father (who was also my Honors and AP US History teacher at the time).
The Things They Carried is O'Brien's way of dealing with his experiences through fiction. This book is his autobiographical account. #setinSoutheastAsia for #AprilBookShowers
(Not Pictured: my collection of Thai and Indonesian martial arts movies)
The mass of men in Alpha Company talked little about dying. To talk about it was bad luck, the ultimate self-fulfilling prophecy. Death was taboo... Fear was taboo. It could be mentioned, of course, but it had to be accompanied with a shrug and a grin, and obvious resignation. All this took the meaning out of courage. We could not gaze straight at fear and dying, not, at least, while out in the field, and so there was no way to face that question.
Pinkville is a bad place, I know that. But if you‘re dumb you‘ll die in New York City.
I was the offspring of the great campaign against the tyrants of the 1940s, one explosion in the Baby Boom, one of millions come to replace those who had just died. My bawling came with the first throaty note of a new army in spawning. I was bred with the haste and dispatch and careless muscle-flexing of a nation giving bridle to its own good fortune and success. I was fed by the spoils of 1945 victory.
Sometimes at night there was the awful certainty that men would die at their foxholes or in their sleep, silently, not a peep, but this night everyone talked softly and bravely. No one doubted that we‘d be hit, yet there was no real terror. We hadn‘t lost a man that day, even after eight hours of sniping and harassment, and the enemy‘s failure during the day made the dark hours easier. We simply waited.
I love the smell of research in the morning. #research #writing #bookhaul #nonfiction
