Blood. Death. Screams. I’ve shot many people. I have taken many lives. I don’t know if I even had shot any loyalists on the boats or if my bullets had reached anyone but it I gave it my all and tried really hard to avenge the deaths of the villagers. I haven’t been part of the army for very long and I am beginning to act like I have been trained for years and years. I am now going into a long tunnel of reality, my only companion being my riffle with loads of ammunition and I cannot back out of this tunnel because the only exit has been sealed shut. My way is forward, I don’t have much training but we must win San Ildefonso back from the loyalists. And we must win it back soon. The captain is right. Even though I have a small amount of training that doesn’t matter. What matters is that we get San Ildefonso back and we get it back soon. If we don’t then we loose the war and we gain many, many long years of suffering and many years of death and starvation. Even though I have hardly any training I am ready to start fighting in the war for the good of my people and for the good of the future generations. I am not a babysitter, I can fight I will prove it to Whistler, Juan, Esteban and the others who think I am not capable or worthy of even holding my rifle. I am sure, no; positive that I can fight and that we will win this war.
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