Bob
At the beginning, that is, when the introduction of hypnosis was successful and I stood on the land of Louisiana, the name came to my mind.
At first I was wondering if my name was Bob.
But, I was very worried about Bob.
Bob is a real younger brother in this my life.
His eyes is same.
A little time has passed,
We are militias. I needed a cane, but it seems I didn’t have to cut off my legs.
I am a sniper corps.
I’m worried about him. Bob.
Because I have a bad feeling.
Becoming a militia was not our first battle.
But this attack was that fated day.
We launch a surprise attack.
The Union Army is in a be taken aback with our surprise attack.
Their counterattack will be delayed.
Our attacks are overwhelmingly dominant.
Enemies attack with roaring, sour smoke, and purple smoke crevices.
bellow of attack my ears
The enemies rush towards us at once.
The sound of a bullet that cuts through meat. Allies are also killed, and every time a gunshot is heard, the entire body of surrounding enemies and friendly soldiers is blown away.
The sound of heavy boots running up the ground.
Every time I run, I hear a metal ringing sound.
It is the sound of a bullet hitting the pouch attached to the waist.
I can’t breathing.
My heart is about to pop out.
Bob also volunteered to be my subordinate.
White subordinates bully him. But Bob says it can’t be helped and he puts my worries elsewhere. They follow my superior servant, but they really hate black people.
Bob fights to protect me, not to his homeland. I can see that.
He will never let me die. I’m worried about him.
When running up the hill
Bob, who was at the forefront of the battle, was shot!
He blows back like slow motion.
Oh!
Bobby!
Bob’s blood is warm, and his warm soul is steadily escaping through the gap between my fingers and the palm of my hand.
do not stop!
Blood doesn’t stop!
Oh!
Bobby.
Blood doesn’t stop!
Please. Please!
Bobby
What a hell!
Oh.
God!
!!
What will happen like this!
When he touches my cheek with his blood, mud and sweaty right hand, his teary eyes open wide and say something, and his hand collapses.
This battle was a victory for our military.
But our war will be defeated after a while.
It leaves only great sacrifices and scars.
The corpse cannot be taken home. The body is thrown away.
But I want to somehow get his body back home. I wanted to bury his body in his homeland. In that soil soaked with their blood.
but, the villagers say they will not allow him to be buried in the village graveyard. He died to protect the country, they was terrible.
Absolutely nay! (Or Ney! I hear the pronunciation of the negative words.)
Because he is a slave nigger.
What a hell!
What a terrible guys!
I yell at they.
But I also feel that doing that doesn’t help.
I apologize to Bob.
Forgive me.
I hope you can only do this.
I will take you back to the mansion and bury it at the base of the tree on the site.
It is a mourning without a proper gravestone.
I’m sorry.
I couldn’t even bury it properly.
I’m helpless.
I was just getting save from you
Even the last life end is like.
Forgive me.
Poor Bob. Forgive me.
My sister, Cathy, gently says to me that I’m kneeling in front of his grave, and Grieving.
“It’s okay. He’s not a grudge. You knows well? Anyway, we must get in home. We can’t help staying here. Let’s go in and have a cup of tea.”
I don’t feel like that.
but, when I drink a cup of tea made by my little sister who was still forced, I felt calm.
It was my sister Cathy who supported me as I survived the war.