• John Williams had just turned 18. He knew what he was going to do with his life. He would serve in the army. He promised himself when he was little that as soon as he turned 18, he would go and register. So, that’s what he did. He went to the nearest recruiting station and signed up. They gave him a packet and told him that he would be leaving in two weeks. There would be an orientation in 3 days. He looked at them. They were all battle hardened veterans of some other war, still serving their country. He turned to walk home.

    That is who he wanted to be someday . . . if he lived. He wondered how those men were still alive. How could they be? They were veterans. They had probably been in the front lines. How could they have lived then? It was most probable that they had been injured and were shipped back home. They could have also hid during the battle. They could be cowards. They could have run away from the fight. That is what John thought had happened. If you were fighting, truly fighting, you would die in the combat. Not because of recklessness, or stupidity, but because you fought until you were forced to die. All those that were dead now from combat were like this. They had lived and died for their country.

    When John got home, his mother was waiting for him. “Where have you been?!” she asked him. She knew where he had been. He had gone to enroll to fight in the Civil War. “Why did you have to?”

    “Because,” he replied, “I won’t be an American until I do.” He walked to his room to pack. On the way, he saw his little brother in the hall, listening to their mother and John’s conversation.

    “Do you have to go?” he asked John.

    “Yes. I do.” At this, Mark’s, John’s little brother, face hardened with resolve.

    “I want to go with you.” The look on Mark’s face, and the seriousness of the words made John laugh.

    “You won’t have to go to war. You will be smart! You will be able to do anything you want when you get older.” Mark’s words had hurt John, though. Mark always wanted to do something just like his older brother. He wasn’t able to though. He was born with a sickness that slowed his muscle growth. Mark would never fully develop.

    “What if I want to go to war when I’m older? Besides, you are smart and you’re following big brother James into the war. It’s not fair!” At this, Mark folded his hands and sat down, right in the middle of the hallway. John looked away. Mark didn’t understand yet. James had gone to war to fight against the north. He was fighting against his family’s beliefs. Whether it was to prove himself, or to rebel against his parents, John didn’t know. All he knew was that now he had to do what was right for the country and the future.

    “You won’t want to go to war,” John replied, then started to walk to his room again. He felt a tug on his leg, then looked down to see his little brother clinging to his leg. “What?”

    “Will you come play with me?” Mark asked quietly.

    “No. Not this time. I have to go pack.” With that, John pulled his leg out of Mark’s grip and shut the door to his room. With that, he started packing.

    Two weeks later, John was marching toward Gettysburg, where he would be part of a huge number of reinforcements that were massing there. There was a sound that came some distance off. It was a horn! It was playing the enemy’s battle march. The enemy was coming closer. The commanding officer had just given instructions on laying an ambush for the southern soldiers when they were caught in an ambush. The enemy had a horn player play a distance off while scouts went ahead. If they found an enemy, they returned, and fighting soldiers set up an attack.

    The battle ensued. It was an almost even fight, with the north having a slight advantage of numbers, when the main force of southern soldiers arrived. There were over a hundred more southern soldiers than northern ones now. The north had no chance. As they were picked off and slaughtered one by one, John lost his gun. He drew his sword. He had never used it before. They hadn’t had time for training before they got the message from Gettysburg. He slashed and stabbed at enemy soldiers until he saw the next opponent. It was James with his sword drawn. “This is it brother,” James said. John didn’t stand a chance. James was far more skilled. And he was ruthless. There was nothing John could have done to survive. The killing blow was swift. James stabbed his sword into his brother’s stomach up to the hilt. John’s legs gave out. He pitched forward onto his brother.

    “How can you be so cruel?” John asked.

    “Because I must,” James replied as he pushed John off the sword. As he walked away, he heard his brother say: “I am an American.”

    When he looked back, John was dead.