Best Posts in Thread: One and A Half Million Meebles!

paying someone to do schoolwork for you?

not a bad idea

 

Go away

 

Ironic, I am a history buff myself. My specialty: World War II Armored Warfare. Allow me to provide a much more detailed entry, less of a narrative.

August 9th, 1945; the crew of the B-29 Superfortress Enola Gay were about to make history. They would change global politics and warfare eternally by doing one thing: dropping the first atomic bomb on a city. Due to safety reasons, the atomic bomb held within the plane was not armed until after takeoff, as several planes had crashed before when attempting to take off in the practice missions. For some reason, they didn't want an atomic bomb to go off at an Allied airfield. Once airborn, one of the crew armed the bomb. As the Enola Gay approached Hiroshima, they didn't encounter an ounce of resistance. This was for several reasons. Firstly, they were flying alone. There were no other bombers surrounding them, as most bombing raids were carried out. Secondly, it was broad daylight!
According to the instructions the crew had been give, they were to drop the bomb over a bridge near the center of the city. Upon release from the plane, the bomb, code named "Little Boy," entered into the second phase of its detonation sesquence. "Little Boy" was a different kind of bomb than tested in America. Thus, they were not even sure it would work.
Upon reaching the altitude considered to be optimal for maximum damage, Little Boy exploded.

Here is one picture taken from the Enola Gay as they were flying away as fast as they could. They described the explosion as "a bubbling mass, with a red hot core."
All that was left of the city was a few buildings.

The question lingers, was it right? Between the two atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, hit by Little Boy and Fat Man, respectively, a total of about 320,000 people were killed. The initial impacts caused approximately 80,000 deaths each, with the additional fatalities coming from the radiation poisoning.
In my opinion, the A-Bomb attacks can be justified if you compare it to other data. In all honesty, when is anything "right" in war? Thus, we must compare it to statistics.

Atomic Bombs​

Deaths Caused: About 320,000
Number of Raids/Bombs Dropped: 2

Fire-Bomb Raids on Japan​

Number of Raids/Bombs Dropped: 2 raids; one each night
Deaths Caused: 241,000-900,000

Strategic Bombing on Germany​

Deaths Caused: Approximately 150,000 civilians
Number of Raids: Various raids on 10 different cities
Nobody criticizes the fire-bomb raids today, which killed three times as many if both are put to the maximum casualties.
Another point, if Japan had not surrendered, the Allies were preparing to invade the Japanese homeland, which had an estimated cost of 500,000 to a million lives between the two sides, and would have leveled most of Japan.

Most acts in war are not "right," because face it, people are going to die in war. Overall, the atomic bombs cost less lives than the invasion alone would have cost, much less the continued bombings.

 

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

 

You too, lmaooooo!! http://www.2worldwar2.com/battle-of-britain.htm

I really hope you guys are ashamed of yourselves

--- Double Post Merged, Jun 12, 2016, Original Post Date: Jun 12, 2016 ---

Heh, how long does it take to find a suitable work to plagiarize on Google?

 

You're an ass.

No, really, you're an ass.

You plagiarized an essay for a minecraft server. I knew you were too stupid to write something that good.
http://newavessays.com/service/custom-essay-writing/samples-of-essays/azwceo/
Best, you did it for fake currency that you wont care about in 2 years.

 

“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.

 

wow!! im honored!!

thanks so much for hosting

 

Alrighty. The final winner of the 1,500,000 meebles is..... (dramatic drumroll).... @metr0n0me! Congratz! The runner up is @kcschmidt! Metr0 has won 1,500,000 meebles and kcschmidt wins 200,000 meebles! Thank you for participating in this contest!

 

The mere fact (or opinion, in this case) that he's a troll doesn't necessarily mean that his points are invalid, though. In fact, this is called the ad hominem fallacy.

 

"lol do you have an essay for school"

 

Wow, you literally just pointed out your own plagiarism. http://www.gilderlehrman.org/history-by-era/world-war-ii/essays/world-war-ii is the exact link.

 

Hello! I am Kachess and I will be giving away 1,500,000 meebles. How do I get this large sum of money? I will tell you. If you want the 1,500,000 million meebles, write an essay on World War Two. You can write the essay on anything in World War Two, Sicily, Pearl Harbor, Battle of Britain, Eastern Front, etc. I will be judging these essay and one person will win. There will be a secondary prize, 200,000 meebles.

To post your essay, just post it down below. I don't have any more effective way of doing this. Also, I will be watching plagiarism.

Edit: Winner will be selected June 17th.

Attention: The top 3 essays will be picked in one day! 6/15/6 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!

Note: Strengthed and AwesomeAdoGamer are banned from this contest. They have plagiarized twice and they should be ashamed. Special thanks to @Snowy7777 for spotting Strengthed on his second essay.

Thank you - Kachess

 

I will close this now, you all can argue elsewhere.
Congrats Metr0 and kschmidt on winning, and thank you Kachess for hosting this contest.