One and A Half Million Meebles!

She said.

 

my spidey senses are tingling and they tell me someone is trying to get their homework done without doing anything.
seems legit

 

And give away 1,500,000 meebles in the process?

 

There will be at least two more people who say "lol do you have an essay for school", I'm calling it

 

factually incorrect and phrasing incorrect, the battle of midway was just the japanese army, not the axis (italy, germany japan, and to an extent some other slavic countrys) also germany was defeated in africa, then was defeated in germany.

 

Countries*

 

Go away

 

Wold war 2 was this big war that happened before we were born. People died. People died horribly. But it was nessicary. May god help us if all those who died had children today. We'd be screwed in piles of junk. Anyways. Death. Sad. Horrible death. Before us. Old.

Where's my money.


Ps I'm the only one who didn't plagerize

 

I wrote mine myself, lol

 

+1

 

Hitler.

 

“CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!” “Oh, s***. It's actually going through this time, I guess.” I see a couple other bleary-eyed soldiers emerge from their canvas tents, and to be honest, I can almost feel them thinking about their homes, girlfriends, and the infamous MREs . Personally, though, I’m too preoccupied with the task at hand to even care about Sylvia and the farm. Remember, land a few miles inland, run around in some God-forsaken forest in the dark, and most importantly, avoid getting killed—


“WAT THE F*** ARE YA DOIN’ STANDIN’ THERE, PRIVATE? MOVE! IF YA’LL STAN’ THERE LIKE THAT, YA’LL’S ASSES GANNA GET SHOT BY THEM KRAUTS! GET YA FAT ASS DOWN TO THE MESS!”


Okay, okay, Lieutenant, I mean, sir. It's zero two-forty five in the morning—give me a break. Though I'm probably late for breakfast: I don't seem to really hear any other boots slapping on the mud. It isn't ever any good anyways—runny eggs, burnt bacon, always lukewarm. At breakfast, I try to make small-talk with the platoon; however, all of them seem burdened by the realization that they might not return home. Though as soldiers, we try to avoid expressing our feelings, we’re still people with emotions, just like you. Plus, after spending all your waking hours with the same men for months, we know when something’s wrong among us. You wouldn't know, though. It's only something you feel once you've been to war.


I strap a few more pieces of equipment to my body—rifle, pistol, knife, Bible(s), pictures of home (essential survival gear, right?)—and, taking one last look of England before boarding the tube of death (I mean, C-47 transport aircraft), proceed to fall on my ass, weighed down by one hundred-forty-five pounds of essential survival gear. I scramble to my knees, and again fall on my back. Great. I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to be rolling around in your gear somewhere in a forest in Normandy--that's a pretty good way to get your ass shot by a sniper. Or worse yet, mauled by a bear, or a vampire. Hey. Bill’s the one who graduated from Yale with a degree in wildlife management, not me—how the hell am I supposed to know what kind of creepy-ass animals are in Fra—


“CARMICHAEL, THAT’S THE SECOND TIIIME Y’ARE GRINDIN’ YOUR ASS ON THE GROUND TODAY. Y’AREN’T GETTIN’ OUTTA THIS BY LOOKIN’ RETARDED, Y’KNOW.”


“Yes sir.” Erg. I wish he'd get out of my life. I, for one, don't really want to follow him into combat. I clamber awkwardly into the plant, contort my limbs and equipment into inhuman angles, and squeeze into the door. Who the hell makes these airplanes silver, anyways? It's a great way to get seen by German spotlights and get shot out of the air. Who can blame them? We're only target practice, or so they think.


It seems as if the very essence of time itself is warped. This has already been the longest day of my life, and it's not even four in the morning. Between two badly welded metal panels, I can see the tumultuous waves of the English Channel colliding with each other, as if they were badly-raised children. Even from ten thousand feet, the aroma of the brine below raises faint memories of our Tillamook dairy farm, the din of the propellers vaguely reminiscent of the mooing that hungry cows make.


Our plane shudders as the explosion of the lead aircraft’s gas tank sends shrapnel scattering over the vicinity, and I can distinctly make out cursing from behind the cockpit door. Judging by the speed of the ground below us, we're flying faster and lower than we ever did in training—when are we going to jump, if at all? My eyes dart between each of the twelve men on the plane. The odds are overwhelming—at least one, and for all I know, each one of us isn't going to come back alive. Right now, the words of a wiser man than I (in the Army, that means your superior, regardless of how much of a dumbass he actually is) reverberate in the dark corners of my skull:


“As soon as you become a soldier, you're dead. Don't expect that you're going to come back alive, and most of all, don't let your actions be dictated by the fear of death.”


“JUMP! GET OUT! GET OUT!”


Really, now? We're going two times too fast and about five-hundred feet too low. S***, I'm going to die.


A yawning pit opens up under my stomach, and I begin to feel nauseous. The slipstream of the airplane buffets against my clothes (I mean, one-hundred-forty-five pounds of essential survival gear), and I hear ill-defined cries of “Jump!” in the distance. Yanking open my parachute, I begin to feel at peace, as the crisp morning air revitalizes my soul, bringing memories of long walks on the beach with Sylvia flooding back. Ah, yes. Here’s the jagged rock where I slipped and got a concussion, and there’s the anemone Sylvia stepped on, squirting half-digested…material…and juice onto the beach… Remember that time when Bill thought he could play the drums? Poor kid thought banging on the thing as hard as he could constituted “playing the drums”—he never really lived that one down. Wait, those aren’t quite drums though—they sound like German artillery. But I digress. War’s really not that bad after all, is it?


I think I can stay alive during the war. I really don’t want to die—how could I not see Mama, Dad, Henry, or Kate again? For a brief moment, I conclude that Lieutenant Johnson’s “wise words” are about as correct as kcschmidt’s use of the word “irony,” and resolve to stay alive to see mom and dad again.


I land, not too softly, on a field of springy turf. I’m standing on the Normandy soil now, the first of many paratroopers to launch the Allied invasion of Normandy.


Let the games begin.

 

The war had a great economic impact on the people of Arkansas. During the WWII, an estimated 194,600 Arkansans (about 10% of the 1940 population) served the nation in the branches of the U.S. army, and 3,519 were killed in combat. Seven Arkansans—four of them graduates of the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville —earned the Medal of Honor in World War II. Arkansas National Guard troops saw service in combat theaters around the world, including units sent to Alaska in the months before the bombing of Pearl Harbor, where they fought small but brutal battles with Japanese troops in what has been called the Williwaw War (so named after strong winds associated with the weather of the region).

Families in Arkansas had to endure the worry and fear of sending family members off to war while at the same time struggling with the many changes taking place on the home front. For most, the immediate concern was dealing with the rationing of a vast array of consumer products. Most items were in short supply, and some items, such as new car tires, became all but unobtainable. To provide additional food, many Arkansans in towns and cities planted Victory Gardens in any available space to grow what they could to augment their rations. On February 8, 1943, Governor Homer Adkins proclaimed a “Victory Garden Day” to promote the practice across Arkansas. Even though the state ranked toward the bottom in terms of per capita income, this poverty did not stand in the way of citizens doing what they saw as their patriotic duty. During the war, Arkansas ranked twelfth overall in terms of war bond money raised among the forty-eight states of the Union.

As the U.S. Military geared up to fight the Axis powers, a large number of wartime production plants were built across the country. Arkansas was home to six of these military ordnance plants. Built in the central and southern parts of the state, they were located in Camden (Ouachita County), El Dorado (Union County), Hope (Hempstead County), Jacksonville (Pulaski County), Marche (Pulaski County), and Pine Bluff (Jefferson County). The new plants became an important source of industrial jobs for Arkansas, which had suffered severe job loss during the Great Depression. At the peak of military production, more than 25,000 defense workers—mostly women—produced hundreds of millions of pounds of explosive material (such as ammonium picrate and nitrate) and millions of tons of other war materiel (such as detonators, fuses, and explosive primers). Housing and transportation for these “instant” cities became a pressing issue, as plants were constructed in record time in order to gear up the nation for war. Five of the facilities (Camden, El Dorado, Jacksonville, Marche, and Pine Bluff) were engaged in the actual production of war materiel, and the sixth, in Hope, was designated as a proving ground for the testing of ordnance being produced elsewhere.


I aint nu plagiriz

 

http://www.encyclopediaofarkansas.net/encyclopedia/entry-detail.aspx?entryID=2402

 

"lol do you have an essay for school"

 

That was beatuiful.

--- Double Post Merged, Jun 13, 2016, Original Post Date: Jun 13, 2016 ---

Alrighty. The candidates right now are Kschmidt, Xmiku, and Dwarfmorf, Metr0nome, Marshy_88 and Window_Licker. Please tell me if I missed anyone and/or someone plagiarized.

Attention: The top 3 essays will be picked in two days! Those who make the final three are not guaranteed 1,500,000 meebles. Out of those three, I will choose the winner and follow up! Good luck!

 

if you are caught cheating, shouldn't you be disqualified? does someone who would cheat other people to win really deserver any chance to win?

 

I am willing to give him a chance. Although, Ado was caught cheating twice. He will not be considered .

 

I see

 

World War two: Many innocent people dead. This War changed our world, along with other wars, however, the most brave humans were put to war to save their side. This, WW1, CW, and the current WW3, should be the only thing we learn in social studies/history. I can tell you about Alexander the great, but what is happening in our world today? People being killed for being gay, trans, disagreeing, being famous, for being angry at one another. Our world doesnt have acceptance, and never has since before circa 4000BCE. WW2 was just an excuse for hate and gaining honor, or pride. Bravery, or Strength. Now we are stuck between WW3 and survival. Die, or die trying.