Foreword: This story is seperated into chapters and divided among my blog posts. It is set in 1911 during the time of Red Dead Redemption, set during a (fictional) heated war with Mexico. John is the protagonist, but he is serving as a soldier in the U.S. Army rather than as an outlaw. The Mexican people in general have come to despise America, all it stands for, and all of its' soldiers. This story is written in journal format, e.g First Person from John's perspective.

It was April 2nd of 1911 when I enlisted in the Army, and by April 6th, I was on the frontlines risking my life. The first memory of combat that I have was when our train parked at that training camp just over the Mexican border. We were all ushered out of the cramped, humid metal coffin by a big, burly man who went by the name of Jan Paul. The first thing I remember him saying to me personally was that beyond the base's fence, every living thing around me would want me dead. That was also the last thing I heard him say.

On April 7th, we rolled into a small Mexican village. It looked peaceful enough - kids playing soccer, mothers washing clothes in the river. Then, in the blink of an eye, the shutters on the second story of a tan house opened up to reveal a Maxim machinegun. I dove behind a nearby stone fountain and looked back just in time to see Jan get torn to shreds by a barrage of machinegun fire. He fell to the ground, his chest littered with blood and bullet wounds. Another officer in the squad rushed over to drag him behind cover, but before he could get the chance, a sniper round from a Winchester Rolling Block blazed it's way through his tan cavalry hat and out the other side of his skull. One of my squadmates, a small, skinny man with skin as pale as a lily, tossed a stick of dynamite through the shutters. We heard the imminent doom of the machinegunner as the fuse slowly burned down. After what seemed like hours, we finally heard a deafening explosion and saw a hail of wood, plaster and body parts flying over the makeshift battlefield.

The rest of the squad didn't need a commanding officer to know what to do next. We all stood up, grabbed our rifles and rucksacks, and ran down the path the same way we came. The last thing I remember hearing or seeing was a black object with a red-orange tail that seemed to be getting closer to me. The whistling grew louder and louder, then there was an explosion, and everything was dark.

-End of Chapter 1

"...Since when do snipers have wings?!" Gamer.Matt 14:50, March 30, 2012 (UTC)

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