Point of View

[Uesugi Kenshin]

Tomorrow I am going to re-write my short story Life's Last Fight and repost it with a different point of view and will post an editted version from the original point of view. I have been thinking about what point of view to use in the story I am writing and would like to see what you guys think of the two pieces, I have run out of time and could not finish the new version of it. If anyone has a good example of how point of view can affect a piece or two pieces with drastically different points of view I would love to see them posted. Thanks.

[Uesugi Kenshin]

Life’s Last Fight

Warren stood on the heaving deck of the Higgins Boat. The smell of saltwater and vomit inundated the air. The sound of machine gun fire and artillery filled his ears. He felt the dread solidify inside him and turn his limbs to Jello. He dared not look up; he knew he would never do his duty if he saw those ahead of him being shot down by the German guns. As the boat neared the shore, he grasped his rifle and crouched down; it would be a pity to die before he reached France. Not long now. The ship suddenly shuddered and slid to a stop. The boatswain dropped the ramp and out they ran. Warren followed quickly. The first four men were immediately struck down and Warren was covered in blood. He jumped into the water, his heart hammering in his ears. He fell under the surface, panic overcoming him. They were not on the beach. He grappled with his gear, as he slowly sunk farther from life. He threw down his heavy burden and burst above the waves, salt water drenching his clothes. Rifle in hand, he sloshed ahead.

He tore the plastic from his rifle. M1 Garand, eight shots, nothing more beautiful to an infantryman on a hostile beach. He charged onto the sand. He flew into the beach, his first taste of France fresh in his mouth. He spat the sand out and pulled himself up, shaking the ringing from his ear. He ran again, his breath heaving in and out almost rhythmically. He tripped and fell behind an obstacle into a pool of blood. He ran, ignoring the machine gun fire and pounding of artillery shells, past the dying and the dead. He ran for the shingle; terror filled his heart. He dropped his rifle, he tripped. He fell into the shingle, amidst the few other brave souls who had ran the width of the beach. Bangalores! The cry filled his ears. He grabbed a dead man’s rifle and prepared to charge into the Lion’s Den. He covered his head and waited. The bangalores shattered the wall, they all stood. He gathered the last of his courage and stood. He clambered up the shattered shingle and stood before the concrete behemoths, shooting fire from their innards. He charged and fell. The first to fall upon the top of the shingle.

At least he made it to France.





I am sorry that I have not had the time to rewrite it from the first person, I had a major spyware attack today because my father uses a bad spyware program and deleted spybot and ad-aware. I am going to write it tomorrow. The edits to the original are as follows: added comma after as the boat neared the shore (first paragraph); added semicolon after he grasped his rifle and crouched down (after previous edit); added comma between rifle in hand and he sloshed ahead; removed comma after He tripped and fell behind an obstacle (second paragraph); changed among to amidst the few other brave souls, directly after that changed that to who had ran the width of the beach (second paragraph). Thats all of them. Most of them were to improve timing and flow, two of them were to make the words grammatically correct or just better for the sentence.

[Uesugi Kenshin]

Life's Last Fight

I am standing in a boat, just of the French coast. My knees quiver with fear, but I cannot fall, there is no room. I look to my right, my sergeant nods reassuringly to me. I can smell salt, vomit and gun smoke. Something slams into the boat I duck and machine gun fire fills my ears, a sound like ripping canvas. What did they say that was? Oh, an MG-42. I can feel my nerve seep out of me, into the wet metal deck and out into the sea. If I do not get a hold of myself I will never find it again. I crouch down and cling to my rifle, the plastic crinkles under the desperate vice that is my hands. If nothing else I must reach France, then none can call me a coward and none could say I shirked my duty.

I stumble forward; the boat has hit something, now or never. The ramp falls and the beach lies before me, full of death, obstacles and shell holes. Hell on Earth.

The men run forward, I follow as fast as I can. Those before me fall, I push through them. No time to wipe the blood from my face. I jump to the ground.

I am immersed; I tear the heavy ammo and equipment from my body. I finally throw it down and burst above the water, gunfire fills my ears again. I never knew I would be comforted by such a horrible sound. I grasp my rifle ever tighter and run ahead, over the sandbar and through yet more water.

As I reach the shore I tear the plastic from my beautiful rifle. I quickly fire off eight shots and dive behind an obstacle. I reload and run forward again. My face slams mercilessly into the sand; I taste blood and stand up shaking the ringing from my ears. My lungs heave; in, out, in out. An obstacle ahead! Salvation, safety from the roaring death of the beach. In my haste I trip and fall into a pool of blood. Where could this have come from I don’t see a body. My foot snaps a bone, it is all that remains. I notice the crater, helmet and rifle. Shuddering I pull myself up, away from the deathtrap of the obstacle.

I brave all hazard and run the last stretch, bullets pound the sand around me. My rifle falls and I fall into the shingle, safety at last. Looking about I notice a corpse, even here there is death. His rifle is mine now, he no longer needs it and mine is back, through five feet of pure death.

BANGALORES!

I shudder, the wall will be breached, we will go over the top and charge the monolithic concrete bunkers. The very machines of destruction that I have thus far escaped. The shingle shudders and flies apart.

I wait a second; the other men do not hesitate. I climb the rise and fling myself into the open.

My ears ring, the Americans will not stop their suicidal advance. 1200 rpm’s should be enough to stop anyone. Why won’t they stop? The shingle shatters, one hole. Barely enough, they will need more than that to storm our stronghold.

One hesitates, and is lost. Such a brave soul, he must have braved all the hazards of the beach. Almost a pity to gun him down now, when he is in France and has displayed such courage, but I do. It is my duty; I owe it to the fatherland.

[master of the puppets]

very good improvement, i love how you guys divide it up into small chunks, i can't really harness that, any way great story if not sorrowful.

[Craterus]

very good improvement, i love how you guys divide it up into small chunks, i can't really harness that, any way great story if not sorrowful.

Small chunks - paragraphs.

[Uesugi Kenshin]

I like to use paragraphs and sentence length to set the pace of the story, short sentences=fast. A few long paragraphs seems to be slower at times and short paragraphs are little snippets of fast action.

Thanks! I really tried to make this better, but still the same story. What do you think of the POV switch at the end?