Rationale another time and place. The original chapter

Rationale This Written Task is based on ‘The Things They Carried’ from Tim O’Brien. I have decided to rewrite the chapter ‘Church’, but changing the historical and cultural context to demonstrate an awareness of how language and meaning are shaped by culture and context. I have put it into the late middle ages in West-Europe, where the Church was the most important institution of society, and where. I have explored in what way the main themes of the chapter change by placing the chapter in another time and place. The original chapter is all about guilt and about the contrast between decency and war.Despite the change of time and place, some of the aspects of the writing style of O’Brien remained untouched. An example of this is his use of detailed listing of what the soldiers carried. Though I also had to change certain aspects of the chapter. I had to the name of the location and changed the pagoda into a church because of the relocation I apply. Also I had to change the action of the monks on the second page of the chapter, where they were originally working on the m-60.What I found out is that the themes are being expanded by the change of historical and cultural context. The guilt that is central in this chapter has more impact because the soldiers’ actions are much more violating because the Church played a more important role in the eyes of the soldiers than Buddhism did in the Vietnamese war. Because of this, the contrast between decency and war has got bigger as well. So the historical, geographical and culture relocation did have serious impact on the main themes of the chapter, to whom O’Brien sticks. Word count rationale: 290Word count written task: 998ChurchOne morning, a slightly bit northeast of the Madine Lake, we encountered an abandoned church. Or almost abandoned, because a pair of monks inhabited in a small wooden shack  next to it, tending a meager garden and a few small statues. Despite the fact that there were only two monks left in the church, we could see that it has not been abandoned quite long ago. The monks spoke barely a word English. While digging a small moat, which went right through the graveyard, they did not seem upset or annoyed, the younger monk did, however, make a washing movement with his hands. I guess they were happy we did not slaughter them brutally. The older monk opened the church for us. The place was full of statues and somber, wooden pews, I remember. Stained glass and elegant fittings were present and the walls were made of grey and brownish bricks of different sizes. The construction did not let much light pass in and it was a bit chilly in there. “That’s not a good sign,” Kiowa said. “Churches are not to be messed with.” The others new it as well, you really don’t mess with churches over here. But we occupied it, terribly making a stronghold of it, and after that we used it to draw our plans for about six days. We had a good, harmonious time. Each morning the two monks brought us buckets of water. They sniggered when we took off our harnesses, weighing about 60 pounds. They enjoyed viewing our childish behaviour in the river, splashing each other. The younger monk brought us a basket filled with peaches from his well-maintained peach trees. The first morning, the monks would help Dobbins clean his morningstar and his crossbow, carefully brushing the parts with some strange substance. The monks seemed to like him. “You know,” Dobbins suddenly said to Kiowa just before dawn, “if I survive this war, I might join these monks. “Join how?” Kiowa replied. “Wear tunics. Live in the monastery.” Kiowa thought about it. “Never expected to hear that from you. Didn’t know you were so ambitious.” “Well, I’m not,” Dobbins said.  The two monks were working on the halberd behind him. He turned around to observe them sharpening the axe blade. “I mean, I’m not the sermonizing type. As a child, I have never been jealous of monks. Preaching or living in an abbey wasn’t for me. But then when I finished school and started working on my dad’s farm, I imagined living in an abbey. Free house, privileges everywhere. It seemed to be a nice way of living.” ” The thing is, I believe in God and all that, but it wasn’t the religious part that drew my attention. Just having an harmonious life, that’s all. Living in peace.” “Right,” Kiowa said. “Helping people, organizing the library, I could have done that. ” Henry Dobbins shut his mouth for while.  He smiled at the older monk, who was now sharpening the knife mounted on top of the halberd. “Well,” Dobbins said, “I could never become a legitimate monk. I can’t pray whole days long. It’s just not one of my talents. And pretending to would bore me too much.” “Maybe you could learn,” Kiowa said. Henry Dobbins suddenly guffawed. ” I would look stunning wearing those tunics- just like the Pope.  I might even do it. Find a monastery somewhere close to Ipswich. Wear a tunic and be bloody nice to people.” “Sounds good,” Kiowa said. The two monks quietly cleaned and smoothened all the weapons Dobbins had to carry. Despite them barely being able to speak English, they seemed to have great respect for the conversation, as if sensing that important matters were being discussed. The younger monk wiped dirt from the gauntlets using a slab of moss. “What about you.? Dobbins said. “Have you ever thought about-you know-living in a monastery?” “Not even a single second.” Dobbins laughed. “A Spanish monk. Man, that’s one I’d love to see. Colorful tunics, orange, yellow and green.” Kiowa sat in the garden, looking at the wild river, about an hour he remained quiet. Then he stood up, walked to the river and drank some water from the river as if he was an animal. After that, he walked back into the church and sat down next to Dobbins “I am not able to live my life as a monk,” he said, “but I do like churches and monasteries. The way it feels inside. It feels good when you just sit there, it makes me feel relieved.” “Yeah.” “You ever feel that?” “Sort of.” Kiowa stood up. “This is all wrong,” he said. “What?” Kiowa raised his voice. “Setting up here. It goes way too far. I don’t care it is war and our boundaries have moved, it is still a church.” Dobbins nodded. “True.” “A church,” Kiowa said even louder, “Just wrong, there is no spark of respect left in us.” The two monks were done cleaning Dobbins’ equipment. Kiowa decided to give each of them an enormous fish we caught in the past evening. “Okay,” he said, “dépêchez-vous, friends.” The monks walked out of the church into the dimming sunlight, to continue their usual tasks. Henry Dobbins made the washing motion with his hands. “You’re right,” he said. “All you can do in this situation is be nice. Treat them decent, you know?”