Buffalo Soldiers

May 13, 2010
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All the Negroes. Buffalo soldiers we call ourselves. I rub the stolen bust. Holding ground waiting to fire. A Nazi truck approaches with a big intercom on it. A sweet voice plays. A lady that sounds beautiful is trying to persuade us to get on her side. All the candy yams and rice she says she will give us if we become a turn coat. The talking stops and the Lieutenant gives orders to to move out and cross the river I rub the bust one last time Bullets rang as the Germans attack us Negros. A person gets shot i think his name is Tommy a great officer he was the blood splashes all over my face. All the bullets are fired but neither one hits me. A grenade is then thrown by my ally to ensure safety. I make it to the other side and Butler gives the General our coordinates. He sends an artillery strike to clear our position but the missiles fire at our position. All of us run to duck for cover. This strike has killed many soldiers. The strike stops and I use Butler's sweat rag to clear all my face off blood. My fear has become real and I must fight as a strong Buffalo Soldier. I think I will always keep the bust even though is ways me down because I will always need luck.

I approach the shade as my ally takes cover behind a tree. A big shack that is old, dusty and made of rusted metal. I walk in the door hiding behind things. I am afraid and I rub the bust again. As I take cover someone walks in screaming “Arturo, Arturo,” is sounds like a little boy and I think he is speaking a language called Italian. I peek my head out from behind the pile of scrap metal and see the boy looking around as if he lost someone. The little Italian boy then walks under a cloud of light as soon as he steps in to a grenade explodes on top of the roof. The boy gets stuck under the trapped wood. I then her someone who I think who speaks German.He fluently says something but I don't understand. I peek out again and he sees me and shoots but he misses and Ishoot him. I know that I am safe for now and I rub the bust again. I try with all my strength to help move the wood but it is too heavy. I rub the bust for the last time to see if it will give me anymore luck. I pick up the wood that is about 6 feet and three inches. The boy is no longer stuck. I tap his face to se if he will wake up and he does. He then starts to speak Italian. I don't know what he is saying but he keeps using the words "Chocalate, and Arturo."

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