No morning short story reading comprehension

No morning after short story reading comprehension quiz

Hi, I'm John Green, this is Crash Course U.S. History, and today, we're going to talk about slavery, which is not funny. 0:06 Yeah, so we put a lei on the eagle to try and cheer you up, but let's face it, this is going to be depressing. 0:10 With slavery, every time you think, like, "Aw, it couldn't have been that bad," it turns out to have been much worse. 0:14 Mr. Green, Mr. Green! But what about – 0:15 Yeah, Me from the Past, I'm going to stop you right there, because you're going to embarrass yourself. Slavery was hugely important to America. 0:20 I mean, it led to a civil war and it also lasted what, at least in U.S. history, counts as a long-ass time, from 1619 to 1865. 0:29 And yes, I know there's a 1200-year-old church in your neighborhood in Denmark, but we're not talking about Denmark! 0:35 But slavery is most important because we still struggle with its legacy. 0:38 So, yes, today's episode will probably not be funny, but it will be important. 0:42 [Theme Music] North & South economic ties 0:51 So the slave-based economy in the South is sometimes characterized as having been separate from the Market Revolution, but that's not really the case. 0:57 Without southern cotton, the North wouldn't have been able to industrialize, at least not as quickly, because cotton textiles were one of the first industrially products. 1:04 And the most important commodity in world trade by the nineteenth century, and 3/4 of the world's cotton came from the American South. 1:11 And speaking of cotton, why has no one mentioned to me that my collar has been half popped this entire episode, like I'm trying to recreate the Flying Nun's hat. 1:18 And although there were increasingly fewer slaves in the North as northern states outlawed slavery, cotton shipments overseas made northern merchants rich. 1:26 Northern bankers financed the purchase of land for plantations. 1:29 Northern insurance companies insured slaves who were, after all, considered property, and very valuable property. 1:35 And in addition to turning cotton into cloth for sale overseas, northern manufacturers sold cloth back to the South, where it was used to clothe the very slaves who had cultivated it. 1:45 But certainly the most prominent effects of the slave-based economy were seen in the South. Slave-based agriculture in the South 1:49 The profitability of slaved-based agriculture, especially King Cotton, meant that the South would remain largely agricultural and rural. 1:56 Slave states were home to a few cities, like St. Louis and Baltimore, but with the exception of New Orleans, 2:00 almost all southern urbanization took place in the upper South, further away from the large cotton plantations. 2:06 And slave-based agriculture was so profitable that it siphoned money away from other economic endeavors. 2:11 Like, there was very little industry in the South. 2:13 It produced only 10% of the nation's manufactured goods. 2:16 And, as most of the capital was being plowed into the purchase of slaves, there was very little room for technological innovation, like, for instance, railroads. 2:23 This lack of industry and railroads would eventually make the South suck at the Civil War, thankfully. 2:27 In short, slavery dominated the South, shaping it both economically and culturally, and slavery wasn't a minor aspect of American society. Popular attitudes concerning slavery 2:35 By 1860, there were four million slaves in the U.S., and in the South, they made up one third of the total population. 2:42 Although in the popular imagination, most plantations were these sprawling affairs with hundreds of slaves, 2:47 in reality, the majority of slaveholders owned five or fewer slaves. 2:51 And, of course, most white people in the South owned no slaves at all, though, if they could afford to, they would sometimes rent slaves to help with their work. 2:57 These were the so-called yeoman farmers who lived self-sufficiently, raised their own food, and purchased very little in the Market Economy. 3:04 They worked the poorest land and, as a result, were mostly pretty poor themselves. 3:08 But even they largely supported slavery, partly, perhaps, for aspirational reasons, and partly because the racism inherent to the system gave even the poorest whites legal and social status. 3:18 And southern intellectuals worked hard to encourage these ideas of white solidarity and to make the case for slavery. 3:23 Many of the founders, a bunch of whom you'll remember, held slaves, saw slavery as a necessary evil. 3:29 Jefferson once wrote, quote, "As it is, we have the wolf by the ear, and we can neither hold him, nor safely let him go. 3:37 Justice is on one scale, and self-preservation in the other." 3:41 The belief that justice and self-preservation couldn't sit on the same side of the scale was really opposed to the American idea, 3:47 and, in the end, it would make the Civil War inevitable. 3:50 But as slavery became more entrenched in these ideas of liberty and political equality were embraced by more people, 3:55 some southerners began to make the case that slavery wasn't just a necessary evil. 3:59 They argued, for instance, that slaves benefited from slavery. 4:03 Because, you know, because their masters fed them and clothed them and took care of them in their old age. 4:07 You still hear this argument today, astonishingly. 4:09 In fact, you'll probably see asshats in the comments saying that in the comments. 4:12 I will remind you, it's not cursing if you are referring to an actual ass. 4:15 This paternalism allowed masters to see themselves as benevolent and to contrast their family-oriented slavery with the cold, mercenary Capitalism of the free-labor North. 4:26 So yeah, in the face of rising criticism of slavery, some southerners began to argue that the institution was actually good for the social order. 4:33 One of the best-known proponents of this view was John C. Calhoun, who, in 1837, said this in a speech on the Senate floor: 4:40 "I hold that, in the present state of civilization, 4:43 where two races of different origin and distinguished by color and other physical differences as well as intellectual, are brought together, 4:51 the relation now existing in the slave-holding states between the two is, instead of an evil, a good. A positive good." 4:59 Now, of course, John C. Calhoun was a fringe politician, and nobody took his views particularly seriously. 5:04 Stan: Well, he was Secretary of State from 1844 to 1845. 5:07 John: Well, I mean, who really cares about the Secretary of State, Stan? 5:10 Danica: Eh, he was also Secretary of War from 1817 to 1825. 5:13 John: All right, but we don't even have a Secretary of War anymore, so... 5:16 Meredith: And he was Vice President from 1825 to 1832. 5:19 John: Oh my god, were we insane?! 5:21 We were, of course, but we justified the insanity with Biblical passages and with the examples of the Greeks and Romans, 5:28 and with outright racism, arguing that black people were inherently inferior to whites. 5:33 And that not to keep them in slavery would upset the natural order of things. 5:37 A worldview popularized millennia ago by my nemesis, Aristotle. God, I hate Aristotle. 5:42 You know what defenders of Aristotle always say? 5:44 "He was the first person to identify dolphins." 5:47 Well, ok, dolphin identifier. 5:50 Yes, that is what he should be remembered for, but he's a terrible philosopher! Lives & experiences of enslaved people 5:53 Here's the truth about slavery: 5:55 It was coerced labor that relied upon intimidation and brutality and dehumanization. 6:00 And this wasn't just a cultural system, it was a legal one. 6:03 I mean, Louisiana law proclaimed that a slave "owes his master... a respect without bounds, and an absolute obedience." 6:09 The signal feature of slaves' lives was work. 6:12 I mean, conditions and tasks varied, but all slaves labored, usually from sunup to sundown, and almost always without any pay. 6:20 Most slaves worked in agriculture on plantations, and conditions were different, depending on which crops are grown. 6:25 Like, slaves on the rice plantations of South Carolina had terrible working conditions, 6:29 but they labored under the task system, which meant that once they had completed their allotted daily work, they would have time to do other things. 6:36 But lest you imagine this is like how we have work and leisure time, bear in mind that they were owned and treated as property. 6:42 On cotton plantations, most slaves worked in gangs, usually under the control of an overseer, or another slave who was called a "driver." 6:49 This was back-breaking work done in the southern sun and humidity, and so it's not surprising that whippings – or the threat of them – were often necessary to get slaves to work. 6:58 It's easy enough to talk about the brutality of slave discipline, but it can be difficult to internalize it. 7:03 Like, you look at these pictures, but because you've seen them over and over again, they don't have the power they once might have. 7:09 The pictures can tell a story about cruelty, but they don't necessarily communicate how arbitrary it all was. 7:14 As, for example, in this story, told by a woman who was a slave as a young girl: 7:18 "[The] overseer... went to my father one morning and said, "Bob, I'm gonna whip you this morning." 7:22 Daddy said, "I ain't done nothing," and he said, "I know it, I'm going to whip you to keep you from doing nothing," 7:28 and he hit him with that cowhide – you know it would cut the blood out of you with every lick if they hit you hard." 7:33 That brutality – the whippings, the brandings, the rape – was real, and it was intentional, because, in order for slavery to function, slaves had to be dehumanized. 7:43 This enabled slaveholders to rationalize what they were doing, and it was hoped to reduce slaves to the animal property that is implied by the term "chattel slavery." 7:51 So the idea was that slaveholders wouldn't think of their slaves as human, and slaves wouldn't think of themselves as human. 7:57 But it didn't work. Let's go to the Thought Bubble. 7:59 Slaves' resistance to their dehumanization took many forms, but the primary way was by forming families. Family, love, & religion of enslaved people 8:05 Family was a refuge for slaves and a source of dignity that masters recognized and sought to stifle. 8:10 A paternalistic slave owner named Bennet H. Barrow wrote in his rules for the Highland Plantation: 8:15 "No rule that I have stated is of more importance than that relating to Negroes marrying outside of the plantation... It creates a feeling of independence." 8:23 Most slaves did marry, usually for life, and, when possible, slaves grew up in two-parent households. 8:28 Single-parent households were common, though, as a result of one parent being sold. 8:32 In the upper South, where the economy was shifting from tobacco to different, less labor-intensive cash crops, the sale of slaves was common. 8:40 Perhaps one-third of slave marriages in states like Virginia were broken up by sale. 8:45 Religion was also an important part of life in slavery. 8:47 While masters wanted their slaves to learn the parts of the Bible that talked about being happy in bondage, 8:52 slave worship tended to focus on the stories of Exodus, where Moses brought the slaves out of bondage, 8:57 or Biblical heroes, who overcame great odds, like Daniel and David. 9:01 And, although most slaves were forbidden to learn to read and write, many did anyway. And some became preachers. 9:07 Slave preachers were often very charismatic leaders, and they roused the suspicion of slave owners, and not without reason. 9:13 Two of the most important slave uprisings in the South were led by preachers. 9:16 Thanks, Thought Bubble. 9:17 Oh, it's time for the Mystery Document? Mystery Document 9:19 We're doing two set pieces in a row? All right. [buzzing noise] [music] 9:24 The rules here are simple. 9:26 I wanted to re-shoot that, but Stan said no. 9:29 I guess the author of the Mystery Document. 9:30 If I am wrong, I get shocked with the shock pen. 9:33 "Since I have been in the Queen's dominions I have been well contented, yes well contented for sure, man is as God intended he should be. 9:40 That is, all are born free and equal. 9:43 This is a wholesome law, not like the southern laws which puts man made in the image of God on level with brutes. 9:49 O, what will become of the people, and where will they stand in the day of judgment. 9:53 Would that the 5th verse of the 3rd chapter of Malachi were written as with a bar of iron, 9:59 and the point of a diamond upon every oppressor's heart that they might repent of this evil, and let the oppressed go free..." 10:06 All right, it's definitely a preacher, because only preachers have read Malachi. 10:10 Probably African American, probably not someone from the South. 10:13 I'm going to guess that it is Richard Allen, the founder of the African Methodist Episcopal Church? 10:18 [buzzing noise] DAAAH, DANG IT! 10:19 It's Joseph Taper, and Stan just pointed out to me that I should have known it was Joseph Taper because it starts out, 10:24 "Since I have been in the Queen's dominions..." 10:27 He was in Canada. He escaped slavery to Canada. The Queen's dominions! 10:31 All right, Canadians, I blame you for this, although, thank you for abolishing slavery decades before we did. 10:36 [electric sounds] AHHH! How people resisted & escaped slavery 10:37 So, the Mystery Document shows one of the primary ways that slaves resisted their oppression: by running away. 10:42 Although some slaves like Joseph Taper escaped for good by running away to northern free states, 10:47 or even to Canada, where they wouldn't have to worry about fugitive slave laws, even more slaves ran away temporarily, hiding out in the woods or the swamps, and eventually returning. 10:55 No one knows exactly how many slaves escaped to freedom, but the best estimate is that a thousand or so a year made the journey northward. 11:01 Most fugitive slaves were young men, but the most famous runaway has been hanging out behind me all day long: Harriet Tubman. 11:07 Harriet Tubman escaped to Philadelphia at the age of 29, and over the course of her life, she made about 20 trips back to Maryland to help friends and relatives make the journey north on the Underground Railroad. 11:17 But a more dramatic form of resistance to slavery was actual, armed rebellion, which was attempted. 11:22 Now, individuals sometimes took matters into their own hands and beat or even killed their white overseers or masters. 11:27 Like Bob, the guy who received the arbitrary beating, responded to it by killing his overseer with a hoe. 11:33 But that said, large-scale slave uprisings were relatively rare. 11:36 The four most famous ones all took place in a 35-year period at the beginning of the 19th century. Slave rebellions 11:41 Gabriel's Rebellion in 1800 – which we've talked about before – was discovered before he was able to carry out his plot. 11:45 Then, in 1811, a group of slaves upriver from New Orleans seized cane, knives, and guns, and marched on the city before militia stopped them. 11:52 And in 1822, Denmark Vesey, a former slave who had purchased his freedom, may have organized a plot to destroy Charleston, South Carolina. 11:59 I say "may have" because the evidence against him is disputed and comes from a trial that was not fair. 12:05 But regardless, the end result of that trial was that he was executed, as were 34 slaves. Nat Turner's Rebellion 12:09 But the most successful slave rebellion, at least in the sense that they actually killed some people, was Nat Turner's in August 1831. 12:15 Turner was a preacher, and with a group of about 80 slaves, he marched from farm to farm in South Hampton County, Virginia, 12:21 killing the inhabitants, most of whom were women and children, because the men were attending a religious revival meeting in North Carolina. 12:27 Turner and 17 other rebels were captured and executed, but not before they struck terror into the hearts of whites all across the American South. 12:34 Virginia's response was to make slavery worse, passing even harsher laws that forbade slaves from preaching, and prohibited teaching them to read. 12:42 Other slave states followed Virginia's lead and, by the 1830s, slavery had grown, if anything, more harsh. 12:47 So, this shows that large-scaled armed resistance was – Django Unchained aside – not just suicidal, but also a threat to loved ones and, really, to all slaves. How enslaved people resisted their oppression & why it matters 12:55 But, it is hugely important to emphasize that slaves did resist their oppression. 12:59 Sometimes this meant taking up arms, but usually it meant more subtle forms of resistance, 13:03 like intentional work slowdowns or sabotaging equipment, or pretending not to understand instructions. 13:08 And, most importantly, in the face of systematic legal and cultural degradation, they re-affirmed their humanity through family and through faith. 13:16 Why is this so important? 13:17 Because too often in America, we still talk about slaves as if they failed to rise up, 13:21 when, in fact, rising up would not have made life better for them or for their families. 13:26 The truth is, sometimes carving out an identity as a human being in a social order that is constantly seeking to dehumanize you, is the most powerful form of resistance. 13:34 Refusing to become the chattel that their masters believed them to be is what made slavery untenable and the Civil War inevitable, so make no mistake, slaves fought back. 13:45 And in the end, they won. I'll see you next week. Credits 13:48 Crash Course is produced and directed by Stan Muller. 13:50 The script supervisor is Meredith Danko. 13:52 Our associate producer is Danica Johnson. 13:54 The show is written by my high school history teacher Raoul Meyer and myself. 13:57 And our graphics team is Thought Cafe. 13:58 Every week, there's a new caption to the Libertage, but today's episode was so sad that we couldn't fit a Libertage in... 14:04 UNTIL NOW! [Libertage Rock Music] 14:08 Suggest Libertage caption in comments, where you can also ask questions about today's video that will be answered by our team of historians. 14:13 Thanks for watching Crash Course, and as we say in my home town, don't forget to be abolitionist.

No morning after short stroy

Broken windows are covered. Floorboards are patched and doors screwed back on. The road that was ruined by German tanks is shovelled and raked smooth. Boot-shaped bruises turn yellow then fade and disappear. Flowers grow and spread across the ugly German footprints stomped into garden beds. The village looks pretty once more. School stops for the summer and everyone is put to work on the kolkhoz, the village farm. Women and big boys begin harvesting the barley crops in the outer fields. The biggest girls milk the cows, morning and night, and keep the barns clean. Old Nikolay mends ploughs, horse harnesses, pitchforks and scythes in his workshop. Anna Pushinka teaches Yelena and her friends how to get the honey from the beehives that are scattered through the orchards. I am in charge of collecting eggs. My friends Olga and Nina help. Olga and Nina are five, a year younger than me. They are twins and look exactly alike, except Nina’s nose is a little bit crooked from when she fell out of bed and squashed it sideways on the floor. The hens, ducks and geese wander free in the summer, so collecting eggs is like a treasure hunt and takes hours. Catching the hens for their daily hugs takes even longer, but I think it’s important because hugs make everyone happy and happy hens lay bigger eggs. Olga says I’m the best hen-hugger in all of Russia. Nina says I’ll be the best cow-hugger, too, when my arms grow longer. But good hugs have nothing to do with the size of your arms. It’s all to do with the size of your heart. When we are done with the hens, Olga, Nina and I can spend the rest of the day doing whatever we like. We climb the apricot trees, chase squirrels, lie in the meadow marvelling at how hot Ushanka’s black fur becomes in the sunshine, make daisy chains and race little boats of bark in the stream. I teach Olga and Nina the alphabet and we use charcoal to write our letters and our names all over the village – on doors and walls and the freshly cut ends of firewood. In between, I practise my knots. In case the German princemonsters return. I slip into Old Nikolay’s workshop and tie knots in the harnesses hanging on the walls. I wander into gardens where the washing is hung out to dry and tie knots in the laces on pants and smocks. I creep up behind Anna Pushinka and tie knots in her apron strings. I find baling twine in the hay shed and tie my own ankles together. I do such a good job of these last knots that I can’t get them undone. I have to jump all the way to Olga and Nina’s house and ask them to cut me free with their mama’s knife. At the end of each day, Ushanka and I run out into the distant barley fields to meet Mama. This is my favourite part of the day, because Mama always shouts, ‘Little Rabbit!’ and smothers my head with kisses. And as we walk home, we sing. Everyone – women, big boys and me. I love to sing. Almost as much as I love to be kissed by Mama. Sometimes one of the boys, Mikhail, has his balalaika with him. He takes the instrument out from beneath the sheaves of barley piled high on the wagon and plays music. We sing about forests and orchards and people who find their true love. As we walk home, arm in arm, my heart fills with happiness and my belly swells with pride that I am allowed to sing along with the big boys. And I can almost forget about the German prince-monsters and their lies about Russia and their big ugly boots. Almost. But today, when Mikhail reaches for his balalaika, I see other things hiding beneath the barley sheaves. Three of the mamas rush forward and cover them up, but it’s too late. I know they are there. I’ve already seen them. Rifles. Lots of rifles. Mikhail hugs his balalaika to his chest and blushes. ‘So play!’ cries Mama, her voice oddly loud and high. ‘Let’s play Sasha’s favourite song, “The Little Birch Tree”.’ So Mikhail plays and everyone sings about the lovely birch tree with its curly leaves and the branches that will be turned into silver flutes. They sing too quickly, too loudly, and as they sing and walk, they cast nervous sideways glances at me. ‘It’s alright,’ I say, when the song comes to an end. ‘I didn’t see the rifles.’ Mama nods and smiles, and I know it was the right thing to say. But I did see the rifles. And I think about Yelena wanting to get lots of guns and dynamite for the Partisans so they can shoot the Germans and blow them into thousands of tiny pieces, and Mama looking as though she agreed, and I know this is what the mamas and the big boys are doing. As well as harvesting, they are helping the Partisans. Three days later, I wake before dawn and I am all alone. Yelena is always here beside me when I wake. But not this morning. I climb down from our bed above the stove. Mama is filling a cloth sack with bread. She ties it closed with a piece of string and hands it to Yelena. ‘Stay out of sight,’ says Mama. ‘And don’t return until after dark.’ ‘Where’s she going?’ I ask. ‘Nowhere,’ snaps Mama. ‘Then why does she need all that bread?’ I ask. ‘There’s nothing left for us.’ Mama baked four loaves last night and she has stuffed them all into the sack. Yelena opens her mouth, but before she can speak, Mama shoves her out the door and sends her on the way to nowhere. Mama turns and stares at me, her blue, blue cornflower eyes wide with worry. ‘I know,’ I say, flopping down on the bench. ‘I didn’t see any bread.’ Mama sits beside me and takes my hand. ‘And . . .?’ she prods, obviously waiting for more. I puzzle for a while, then say, ‘And I don’t have a sister called Yelena.’ Mama laughs, softly and with a little bit of sadness around the edges. ‘Sweet Little Rabbit! You do have a sister called Yelena.’ ‘I do?’ I ask, now confused. ‘I haven’t seen the rifles or the bread, but I have seen Yelena?’ ‘Yes.’ Mama smiles and the magic makes me smile, too. And I am glad that Yelena is real because I love her very much. ‘Yelena is real,’ Mama explains, ‘but she does not carry sacks of bread into the forest for the Partisans.’ ‘Of course not!’ I shout, slapping my forehead. ‘Because there is no bread!’ Mama laughs loudly now, with not a hint of sadness. She hugs me, pressing me against her warm, loving heart, covering my head with kisses. ‘Clever Little Rabbit,’ she murmurs, and then, in barely a whisper, ‘Your papa would be so proud.’ When I wake the next morning, Yelena is sleeping beside me, her mouth open, her braided hair unravelling. Mama is serving kasha to a strange woman seated at our table. I crawl down from above the stove and slide along the bench beside her. I stare at her pants, her tunic, the rope she is using as a belt and her big boots. She’s dressed like a man! And there’s a rifle leaning against the wall near the door. ‘Hello,’ I say. ‘I’m Sasha.’ The woman doesn’t reply. She just shovels down her kasha. I line my four wooden bears along the table in front of her bowl and say, ‘These are my bears: Big Bear, Medium Bear, Little Bear and Even Littler Bear.’ ‘Hello, Sasha. Hello, bears.’ She smiles but she doesn’t tell me her name. ‘Why are you dressed like a man?’ I ask, tugging at the sleeve of her tunic. ‘Because men’s clothes make it easier to run and climb and crawl and shoot,’ she says. ‘You’re a Partisan!’ I gasp. ‘But she’s not real,’ says Mama, placing a bowl of kasha before me. ‘Is the kasha real?’ I ask. Mama laughs. ‘Yes, Little Rabbit.’ I’m glad the food is real, because I’m hungry. But I’m disappointed that the woman is not real. I was going to ask if I could use her rope-belt to tie her ankles together. For practice. But if she’s not real, then the rope and her ankles aren’t either. The woman finishes her kasha, hangs her rifle over her shoulder, kisses Mama on the cheek then slips out the door. I run to the window to watch her leave, but by the time I get there, she’s gone. Vanished. ‘Because she’s not real,’ I whisper. A week later, Mama and I are working in the garden. We sing as we weed between the flowers and pluck caterpillars from the vegetables. Anna Pushinka is picking strawberries in her garden and wanders over. ‘Taste these,’ she says, holding out the basket. Mama reaches in and takes out a fat strawberry and a tiny piece of folded paper. The strawberry goes into her mouth, the paper into her pocket. ‘What’s on the paper?’ I ask. ‘Paper?’ Anna Pushinka replies with a wave of her hand. ‘Goodness, Sasha! Who has money for paper? These are lean times. We must choose between paper for writing and noodles for our soup. And I always choose noodles.’ She chuckles and I know the paper is yet another thing that is not real. That night, Mama slips the paper to Yelena, but she drops it on the floor. I pick it up for her, and I see that there are tiny words and numbers written all over it. I wish I could read better. I’m desperate to know what it says. Or rather, what it doesn’t say, because it’s not real. Later, when Mama has tucked us into our bed above the stove and Ushanka has wrapped herself around the top of my head, I ask Yelena, ‘What’s on the paper?’ ‘What paper?’ says Yelena. ‘The paper that isn’t real,’ I reply. Yelena stares at me, nibbling her lip, then whispers, ‘A message for the Partisans. Stuff about where the Germans have their headquarters and when their trains are travelling and where they store their ammunition.’ ‘Why?’ ‘So the Partisans can blow them up.’ Yelena grabs my arm. ‘But don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.’ ‘What’s a secret?’ I ask. ‘The message.’ ‘What message?’ I say, my eyes wide. Yelena laughs. ‘Good boy, Sasha.’ My belly swells with pride. I know how to play this game. ‘How are your knots coming along?’ asks Yelena. ‘Good! Yesterday, I crept into the dairy and tied knots in the apron strings of all the girls who were milking and only one of them noticed. Today, I tied Olga’s ankles together with Mama’s embroidery thread and just now, while you were taking a bath, I tied the sleeves of your blouse together in an enormous knot.’ Yelena rolls her eyes, then says, ‘I’ll see if I can find you some rope for practising.’ ‘Practising what?’ I ask. ‘Your knots,’ she says. ‘What knots?’ Yelena, my big sister who is twelve and always serious t

Write questions based on the text: How long could you survive at sea? One day? Two? And when would you start to lose hope? When Robert Hewitt came to the surface, he realized straight away that something was wrong. He’d been diving for sea urchins and crayfish off the coast of New Zealand with a friend, and had decided to make the 200-metre swim back to shore alone. But instead, strong underwater currents had taken him more than half a kilometre out to sea. Lying on his back in the middle of the ocean, Robert told himself not to panic. He was a strong swimmer and he was wearing his thick wetsuit. 'I'm not going to die. Someone will come,' he told himself. But three hours passed and still no one had come for him. Robert would soon have to make a tough decision. He was now a long way from the coast and the tide was taking him further out, but he decided not to try to swim for shore. He felt it was better to save his energy and hold on to his brightly coloured equipment. But the decision was not an easy one. 'l just closed my eyes and said, "You've made the right decision. You've made the right decision" until that's all I heard,' he remembers. As night approached, Robert established a pattern to help him survive in the water. To stay warm, he kept himself moving and took short naps of less than a minute at a time. Every few hours, he called out to his loved ones: 'Just yelling out their names would pick me up and then I would keep going for the next hour and the next hour and the next.' When he woke the next morning, he couldn't believe he was still alive. Using his bright equipment, he tried to signal to planes that flew overhead. But as each plane turned away, his spirits dropped. He managed to drink water from his oxygen tank to keep himself alive, but as day turned to night again he started to imagine things. Robert woke on the third day to a beautiful blue sky. Now seven kilometres off the coast, Robert decided he had to swim for it. But the sun was so strong and Robert quickly ran out of strength. Hope turned to disappointment yet again: 'l felt disappointed in myself. I thought I was a lot fitter. I thought I would be able to do it.' Robert then started to think he might not survive. On the fourth day, the lack of food and water was really starting to affect him. Half unconscious, and with strange visions going through his head, he thought he saw a boat coming towards him with two of his friends in. Another vision, surely. But no - 'They put me in the boat and I said something like "Oh, how's it going, what are you guys doing here?"' Then he asked them the question that he'd asked in all his visions: 'Can I have some water?' As they handed him the water and he felt it touch his lips, he knew. This was not a vision. He'd been found! After four days and three nights alone at sea, Robert had been found! Sunburnt, hungry and exhausted, but alive.

Tobruk, a small town on the Libyan coast, was central to much of the fighting that took place in the Western Desert during the Second World War. It had originally been developed by the Italians during their colonisation of eastern Libya during the early decades of the 20th century. With a sheltered deep water harbour it became a key naval outpost. It was fortified during the 1930s with both coastal defence batteries and a 50 kilometre-long perimeter of reinforced concrete platoon posts, and other supporting infrastructure such as gun positions, headquarters bunkers, underground supply dumps, and observation towers. When British and Commonwealth forces advanced out of Egypt and into Libya in January 1941, Tobruk was their second objective. The Italian defence perimeter was attacked by the 6th Australian Division on the morning of 22 January and the town fell the next morning. The operation resulted in approximately 27,000 Italian prisoners and the capture of over 200 artillery pieces, but cost 49 Australian lives. The 6th Division's advance pressed on beyond Tobruk and eventually they were withdrawn from Libya to be deployed to Greece.The 9th Australian Division was moved in to Libya in February 1941 to garrison the territory captured by the 6th. By this time, however, German troops had arrived in Libya to reinforce their Italian allies and they launched an offensive that the British Commonwealth forces were ill-disposed to hold back. A retreat towards Egypt commenced. The 9th Division was ordered to fall back upon Tobruk, hold it in order deny its port facilities to the Germans, and delay their advance so as to provide time for defences on the Egyptian frontier to be prepared. Tobruk and the 9th Division were subsequently encircled, beginning what became known as "the siege of Tobruk". Reinforced by the 18th Brigade of the 7th Australian Division and other British and Commonwealth troops, and resupplied by the sea, the 9th Division held Tobruk from April to September 1941. During this period it repelled two major German attacks. In September and October the 9th Division, its condition steadily declining, was relieved by the British 70th Division, which continued to defend Tobruk until the siege was finally lifted by Operation Crusader in December. The defence of Tobruk resulted in 749 Australian deaths, and another 604 became prisoners of war. Tobruk was the scene of further heavy fighting in June 1942 when the fortunes of war again saw a British Commonwealth force seeking to deny the port to the enemy. The Axis forces, however, were in no mood for another siege and launched a massive attack to capture it on 20 June. It remained in their hands until their final retreat from Libya in November 1942.John Hurst Edmondson (1914-1941), soldier, was born on 8 October 1914 at Wagga Wagga, New South Wales, only child of native-born parents Joseph William Edmondson, farmer, and his wife Maude Elizabeth, née Hurst. The family moved to a farm near Liverpool when Jack was a child. Educated at Hurlstone Agricultural High School, he worked with his father and became a champion rifle-shooter. He was a council-member of the Liverpool Agricultural Society and acted as a steward at its shows. Having served (from March 1939) in the 4th Battalion, Militia, he enlisted in the Australian Imperial Force on 20 May 1940 and was posted to the 2nd/17th Battalion. Later that month he was promoted acting corporal (substantive in November). Well built and about 5 ft 9 ins (175 cm) tall, Edmondson settled easily into army life and was known as a quiet but efficient soldier. His battalion embarked for the Middle East in October and trained in Palestine. In March 1941 the 2nd/17th moved with other components of the 9th Division to Libya and reached Marsa Brega before an Axis counter-attack forced them to retreat to Tobruk. The siege of the fortress began on 11 April. Two days later the Germans probed the perimeter, targeting a section of the line west of the El Adem Road near Post R33. This strong-point was garrisoned by the 2nd/17th's No.16 Platoon in which Edmondson was a section leader. The enemy intended to clear the post as a bridgehead for an armoured assault on Tobruk.Under cover of darkness thirty Germans infiltrated the barbed wire defences, bringing machine-guns, mortars and two light field-guns. Lieutenant Austin Mackell, commanding No.16 Platoon, led Edmondson's five-man section in an attempt to repel the intruders. Armed with rifles, fixed bayonets and grenades, the party of seven tried to outflank the Germans, but were spotted by the enemy who turned their machine-guns on them. Unknown to his mates, Edmondson was severely wounded in the neck and stomach. Covering fire from R33 ceased at the pre-arranged time of 11.45 p.m. and Mackell ordered his men to charge. Despite his wounds, Edmondson accounted for several enemy soldiers and saved Mackell's life. When the remaining Germans fled, the Australians returned to their lines. Although Edmondson was treated for his wounds, he died before dawn on 14 April 1941. The Germans' armoured attack that morning was thwarted, partly due to the earlier disruption of their plans. Edmondson was buried in Tobruk war cemetery. He had not married. His Victoria Cross, gazetted on 4 July, was the first awarded to a member of Australia's armed forces in World War II. In April 1960 Mrs Edmondson gave her son's medals to the Australian War Memorial, Canberra, where they are displayed alongside his portrait (1958) by Joshua Smith. At Liverpool a public clock commemorates Edmondson, as do the clubrooms used by the sub-branch of the Returned Services League of Australia.Perhaps my nerves will be more under control when I am by myself. There were no entries in the diary until Friday April 18 when she wrote: Fighting terrific in Greece and North Africa…. I dread the casualty list also the heaviest air raid over London to date. Account …. of heavy fighting and much use of bayonet at Tobruk. Also gives an account of a charge in which a Lieutenant and a Corporal took prominent parts on Easter Sunday night. Of course, no names. When I read it …. I was sure the Corporal was Jack…. It said no casualties but …. I know … that all is not well with Jack. ….. (and) Stuffy ….has not come home yet. On Wednesday April 23 she received a letter from Jack dated March 30 and for the first time he said the conditions were bad. The food short, water one bottle for 48 hours. It worried me terribly so I posted a parcel (of) milk tablets, chocolate milk, biscuits (and) cigarettes.Tuesday April 15 I was feeling afraid of something while I was working and packing the cake (and) had a couple of brandys to (keep going).April 26 Received the following telegram in the mail, the bus man brought it in. “It is with deep regret that I have to inform you that Corporal John Hurst Edmondson was killed in action on the 14th April and desire to convey the profound sympathy of the Ministry for the Army and the Military Board.”Her final entry

Growing up in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, a small city surrounded by endless plains, I've found unexpected echoes of home in China's smaller towns — from the warmth of locals in Huaihua, Central China's Hunan province, to the quiet charm of Yangshuo, South China's Guangxi Zhuang autonomous region. With an itch to see more of China's lesser-visited regions, I began planning a trip to the northwest with seven friends — five Americans, one Pakistani, one Zimbabwean, and one Colombian. We bought round-trip tickets from Shanghai to Yinchuan, Ningxia Hui autonomous region, for less than $120 each. From there, we planned to rent a car and drive to Xining in Qinghai, then on to Qinghai Lake, and finally to Lanzhou, Gansu. To make that possible, several of us applied for Chinese driver's licenses, a process that involved translating our US licenses into Mandarin and passing a short test on traffic laws. Within a day, we were licensed. As we piled into two rental cars in late March to begin our eight-day journey, it became clear that this wasn't just a road trip — it was the culmination of our four years in China, the Mandarin we had so diligently studied, and our ongoing effort to contribute to US-China people-to-people relations. Right away, we drew curious reactions. At the Yinchuan airport, taxi drivers offered us rides into the city, only to stare in astonishment when we told them we had rented cars. "You're driving? In China?" one driver asked, visibly surprised. It was a reaction we'd encountered multiple times during our trip, as foreign drivers are rare in China, especially in remote regions. In Yinchuan, we stocked up on snacks and adjusted to the chilly desert air. From there, we headed west, navigating wide highways framed by dramatic landscapes: arid plains, jagged mountains, and occasionally, a herd of sheep crossing the road. The vastness of the Northwest was humbling — and as someone who grew up on the wide-open prairies of South Dakota, it felt oddly familiar. One of the highlights of our trip was camping by Qinghai Lake, the largest saltwater lake in China. A few summers ago, Santiago Solano, one of my classmates from the US, cycled from Xi'an in Shaanxi to Urumqi in the Xinjiang Uygur autonomous region over the course of a month and met many kind strangers along the way. One of them was Geng San, a Tibetan lamb herder who managed a piece of land right next to Qinghai Lake and graciously invited us to camp there. "That's what China is — it's the people. The quiet generosity of an old Tibetan nomad who, years after we first met, still offered us a place to rest on his land," said Solano, who is also part of the group on this trip. But apparently, we underestimated just how cold it would be to camp next to Qinghai Lake in late March. It was deathly freezing. In preparation for the trip, we had ordered two tent kits and eight sleeping bags. However, when the temperature eventually dropped to — 10 C, all of us piled into the cars and turned the heaters on. So much for camping. From Qinghai Lake, we drove to Lanzhou, where we visited many food markets and tried every type of noodle on offer. Since we are college students, we rented a gaming hotel room — something I've only ever seen in China. At night, instead of attending local parties as we had before, we stayed in the hotel and gamed late into the morning. For me, the trip was as much about the journey as it was about the destinations. Driving through Northwest China gave us a unique perspective on the region's natural beauty and its people. At gas stations, shopkeepers greeted us with curiosity and kindness, often offering recommendations for nearby attractions. At roadside carts, we sampled local specialties, grabbing a quick skewer and a mango for the road. And at every stop, we were touched by the warmth and hospitality that make traveling in China so rewarding. As an American who has lived in China for several years, I'm often asked about my experiences here. Trips like this one remind me of the similarities between the two countries, despite their differences. Just as road trips are a quintessential part of American culture, they've become my favorite way to explore China. Whether it's driving through the rolling hills of South Dakota or the deserts of Ningxia, there's something universal about the freedom and camaraderie that come with having complete control over where you end up. Written by Charlie Howes, a 22-year-old American who has lived in China since 2019. He completed his final year of high school at Beijing No 80 High School and is currently studying at New York University Shanghai. He has founded a company in China focused on facilitating US-China trade and plans to continue living in Shanghai long term. He enjoys road trips, cycling around the world, learning languages, and meeting new people.

From both side of me i heard a gradual crescendo of excitement and laughter rippling along the trenches, interspersed with barked orders that everyone was to keep their heads down and no one was to shoot. From my vantage point on the mound I could see only an occasional glimpse of a steel helmet, my only evidence that the voices I was hearing did indeed belong to real people. There was the sweet smell of cooking food wafting towards me and I lifted my nose to savour it. It was sweeter than the sweetest bran-mash I had ever tasted and it had a tinge of salt about it. I was drawn first one way and then the other by this promise of warm food, but each time I neared the trenches on either side I met an impenetrable barrier of loosely coiled barbed wire. The soldiers cheered me on as I came closer, showing their heads fully now over the trenches and beckoning me towards them; and when I had to turn back at the wire and crossed no man’s land to the other side, I was welcomed again there by a chorus of whistling and clapping, but again I could find no way through the wire. I must have criss-crossed no man’s land for much of that morning, and found at long last in the middle of this blasted wilderness a small patch of coarse, dank grass growing on the lip of an old crater. I was busying myself at tearing the last of this away when I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a man in a grey uniform clamber up out of the trenches, waving a white flag above his head. I looked up as he began to clip his way methodically through the wire and then pull it aside. All this time there was much argument and noisy consternation from the other side; and soon a small, helmeted figure in a flapping khaki greatcoat climbed up into no man’s land. He too held up a white handkerchief in one hand and began also to work his way through the wire towards me.

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