Let's Kill John York Pyramid Image.

Mike West
© Copyright 1999 by Mike West

Early morning Sun light began coming through a tree line on the East side of the battlefield. As the light became brighter I could see that a misty haze was clinging to the ground. I hoped the morning would soon bring a breeze to blow the haze clear of the field. If the haze was not blown away, the Yanks would use it for cover on their attack.

There was a deafening quiet with the exception of one loud voice. This grotesque voice was almost oozing from the tree line the Yanks were amassing behind in preparation of their attack. What I heard made no sense the man had shrieked my name not once, but three times. How, could the Yank know my name? I even heard him yell in a ghoulish tone, "LETS KILL JOHN YORK."

The Yanks stepped from behind their shroud of trees. They marched with a delayed cadence, like Id never seen the enemy do before. Bayonets were fixed to their rifles catching the Sun with gleaming reflections. With every foot fall the ground beneath them rose in a cloud of dust and flame. They were wearing the black forage caps of the feared 34th Massachusetts Infantry. The 34th were famed for the tenacity, and aggression. I knew that these men wouldnt be easily stopped.

There were a thousand men making the attack on our portion of the defensive line. I could hear all of them shouting in a mono toned voice, "LETS KILL JOHN YORK."

I turned to make sure our troops were primed to defend against the onslaught. What I saw horrified me, all my friends and comrades were lying on the ground dead.

The Yanks raised their rifles pointing only at me. They all had a sadistic sneer as they marched toward our lines, or what was now my line. I aimed my rifle at one of the officer leading the charge, and I fired. My mini ball hit him square in the chest. My shot went through his uniform jacket, but no blood showed from the wound. I looked at his face for a reaction of being shot. He looked at me and smiling, then he said laughing, "LETS KILL JOHN YORK."

He raised his pistol pointing at me he then fired. The shot hit men in the arm knocking my rifle to the ground. I bent down to pick it up and one of my dead friends lying at my feet opened his eyes and said, "LETS KILL JOHN YORK." The young dead man then closed his eyes with a demonic grin. I looked at my arm to see how bad I was hurt it was gone.

I quickly looked at the battlefield to see how close the Yanks were. They had stopped the attack and were sitting around campfires eating, and drinking coffee. They gazed at me again and all with a sadistic grin. I looked closer at what they were eating and was terrified. The officer Id shot raised a bloody arm and asked, "Want a piece of your arm John York?"

I heard a scream coming from behind me. I turned to search for the source of the crazed howling. Standing a hundred feet away was something that just couldnt be. It was I screaming, and saying in a hollow voice, "LETS KILL JOHN YORK."

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