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Scribe
Join Date: Mar 2004
Posts: 72
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Two semi interesting essays I wrote for school
Wrote this one to answer this question, even though my answer isn't totaly accurate: What was it like to be a black in the Union Army during the Civil War?
Here he was, standing painfuly erect in the most honorable place he could ever imagine, but what did that truely mean? He was a very low ranking soldier in the Union Army, fighting for the right to live, to be recognized as a life. He was on top of the world, for the first time in his life being recognized as a life. He was around people who truely knew what living meant, surrounded by people who always hold a sub-concious curtesy to people, no matter what color their skin may be. Most treated him equal, because they had come close enough to dying enough times, had been at the point of Adrenalin high that they were able to respect life for the gift it was. But with the respect came the smiteful arm of the Union Army, willing to take back the gift from those who abused it by the oppression of others. That, was what John Flynt, ex slave from a liberated territory (He had not been educated as to where he came from, or where he was, and hardly bothered to ask) fought to end.
This would be his first battle, maybe his last, he didn't know and found himself hardly caring. His only longing at this point would be that he knew as he faded away, what he died for was the good of the world about him. So for the last few seconds of his life, he would be free, without guilt, without chains. It is a patheticly rightious thought he once pondered, that the happiest thing he could think of is dying to end that which had held him down his whole life.
John had always held a fondness with the lieutenant leading his platoon, a mutual fondness. He held an undying respect for the casualy dressed man. The only time the lieutenant had ever yelled at him was when "Massah" slipped out of his mouth while addressing him.
"Keep your wits about you, John, I am not your Master and no one ever will be again, you left that a long time ago, I am here as your director and friend, never Master"
Even with that, there was a kindness in his tone. He came to become quite fond of his name among the platoon of blacks, since they could not ever, no matter how hard he tried to teach them, say his name correctly, he came to be known as "Loot-nit Aye-ron." For a reason unknown to him, he always found himself tongueing those words in his mouth after hearing them, he liked the feel.
Now battle was in the air, the dominant feeling of anticipation running rampant through all the thousands of troops around him. He could see the Confederate flags coming up the hill in the distance, he knew what that meant. It would be time soon. There was an intense calm among the army, expect of course for the drummers raising men's spirits.
A cannon blasted to his right. It was on. Commands rang out through the fields, the front line ran in. Seconds past and the field was filled with smoke, fire and most apparently... death. He stared as line after line advanced through the field up the hill towards Confederate lines, some were slaughtered, others survived to shoot a few rounds off. Lieutenant Aaron shouted from in front of his platoon:
"Ready!" Guns slapped the hands of the black soldiers as they were brought down from shoulders to hands in a more lethal position. John looked at his musket incredulously, he had gotten it from a white soldier who said he looted it from a Confederate corpse. The trigger mechanism seemed to be rusted on the inside, how bad he did not realize.
"Go!" Aaron screamed, he started forth, with a wave of his pistol motioning his platoon to follow. A lesser man would not have, but John did, eager to prove his race, himself.
During that advance, An endless supply of bullets flew by, none seemed to hit a single man. Untill the thirty-foot mark. Man after man, on both sides was slaughtered where they stood, screams mixed with the smoke and fire forming a brutal reality.
John felt himself choking, he was unable to pull the trigger, he just stared into the smoke, not believing.
"Now!" Aaron commanded as the confederate line dissipated. Man after man rushed at the soldiers left, on the field, they were goign toe to toe now. John followed, he no longer felt afraid, or confined. He ran a soldier through, and started behind the general front lines to get to a more favorable position.
That's when he saw it, out of the corner of his eye, through the smoke, he saw a lone Confederate soldier, afraid and far away from the crowd, with his musket raised..John brought his musket up, and aimed. The Confederate soldier was scared he knew, fighting with himself to pull the trigger. John did first, he squezed hard on the handle. Nothing happened. He found himself unable to pull the trigger, it was rusted too tight to move.
"No." he said in disbelief as the bullet came in, enveloping him, he no longer felt glory in dying for this cause, he felt shame. Instead of fading while knowing it was for the good of a nation, he died seeing the one curse that had held him back all his life, the thing he hated. Black.
I wrote this one to answer: What lesson have you learned during these three years of middle school?
Assumptions, Actions and Reactions Ned M.
A lesson I have learned? Or rather what lesson have I not learned. In these three most delicate, painful years of my life I learned a rediculous amount of lessons through my transition from a boy to a man. I learned what people are truely like. With billions of people on earth, each looking out for him or herself, how do we survive, flourishing? One's gain is another's gain is another's gain and so on, then their gain in distributed slowly, evenly to those who didn't gain. I learned how people expect me to fit to their emotions, and let their actions be countered with a predictably proportional reaction. I am not rambling on about a "Cookie Cutter Society" because though I have learned that about people, I do not oppose the idea. I am molded to be like the rest, allowing myself to look somewhat presentable to those around me, I fear venturing deeper into these thoughts, because I do not hate the system.
Now, I have learned these lessons through experience. Lessons that hit home, very hard. Two years ago, I was accused of bringing a gun to school. This accusation, along with the whole story everyone was afraid of, was unknown to me untill the morning of the accusation itself, because I hadn't said anything about the topic at all, knowing how timid it was. It was a 'Friend' of mine, who was 'Joking', using my name, getting me in trouble. While I sat there, being interrogated, searched and such, the one who actualy said it stayed in class, because I didn't know he even said it I couldn't get him in trouble as he did me. Two hours in and I still didn't quite understand what I had done, to this day I don't totaly understand what nothing is. Blinded by thoughts of my own innocence, I am angered by the parents in town who felt the need to teach an eleven year old child, what it truely meant to be thought of as crazy, dangerous and other such names. The week I was suspected of a potential gun threat, I got some of the most respect ever from my peers, though.
People get to the nice town by being rediculously ruthless, or rather, by realizing that in the end, you only have one partner left, yourself. I cannot say I blame them, but as I cope with their actions-that I may or may not like-I find them unable to cope with mine, which I must cope with, because nothing can save me from the smiteful arm of technicalities. But alas, break the will of individuality by thinking me what i'm not, the tough-guy macho-man angry outside, protecting the inside from being shown anything that doesn't want to be seen. Now that I have learned this lesson about everyone around me, I think it time for them to learn a lesson about me. So at ease, adults, I am not the demorilization, I am not the gun threat, I am not the one who beat up your child (Disreguarding self-defense), there are far worse threats to you out there than I could ever conciously be.
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I want you to hit me as hard as you can.
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