Wednesday, September 8, 2010


There was a war going on. We were pinned down by enemy fire, we charged the building the enemy held and i was hit in the arm by a sniper on the roof. We took the building but a yell came from upstairs, "the general is dead!" The men gathered round and looked wearily at the dead general and amongst themselves. That is when they asked me to be general. I took command and with anger over the good generals death we rallied to fight the enemy. Tank reinforcements came, but between us was a long uphill avenue swarming with snipers and machine gun nest. We rolled on in all i can say was a bloody trip up the avenue as i toted a shotgun in my good arm. At last we reached the top of the hill, where a large estate once stood proud, now punctured with gaping wholes from artillery fire. It was the last stand of the enemy, a we walked in we knew they were vanquished, we had won the war. The men weary from battle, sat down on what was left of the fine furnishings in the house as i wandered over to a large oval mirror. I looked upon myself in the mirror with my generals cap, wounded arm, with a cigarette in my mouth, "i have won the war." I walked outside with my men behind me and upon opening the doors of the mansion found a frenzy of photographers and reports surrounding me all asking, "how did you win the war?"

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