JAMES drove the Ford F150. William sat in the passenger seat, and Crocco sat in the middle. Two farmhands with assault rifles slung over their shoulders rode in the bed of the truck. James rolled down the driver side window and steered the Ford off Tolles Road. He pulled up to a guardhouse at the edge of a parking lot. A guard lifted a window. “Can I help you?” The guard asked. “I’m James Blake. This is Adrian Crocco, and that’s my father, William Blake. We’re you neighbors from over yonder at Blue Hills Orchard. We’re here to see John Ulbrich.” “What’s your business with Mr. Ulbrich?” “We’re building a new warehouse and we’d like to negotiate for some steel,” James said. “Don’t need Mr. Ulbrich for that. I’ll get you one of the foremen.” William …show more content…
American dollars? Oh, wait, that’s right, we’re not supposed to call them that anymore, I meant American gold certificates. Those aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on. The Canadians are paying me with hard currency – Canadian dollars. Now, if you’ve actually got some gold up on that estate of yours that I could exchange for Canadian dollars of Chinese yuan, then we might be able to make a deal.” “I don’t think you understand,” William said, leveling a steely gaze at John Ulbrich. “Your pollution is killing the river and anything that touches the river. I rely on the Housatonic for irrigation, and who knows if that sludge of yours is going to start leaching into the groundwater and contaminating our wells. We won’t know that until people start dropping dead or coming down with some strange new forms of cancer. In my mind, this is literally a matter of life or death.” “I see,” Ulbrich said, leaning back in his chair. “You’re a powerful man, Mr. Blake; not the type of man to back down from a fight, or take no for an answer. I’m also sure that if push came to shove you’ve got the muscle and firepower to come in here blasting. So, in the name of being neighborly, I’m going to let you in on a little secret. You guys,” Ulbrich said, looking over at the foreman and steelworkers. “Get the fuck out of here.” “You sure, boss?” The foreman
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While backing up, the white Ford dragged its side along the corner rear bumper of Mark’s rented U-Haul. The driver of the white Ford pulled along the side of the U-Haul and began cursing at Mark. The driver then pulled out a gun and pointed it at everyone. The white Ford then sped off down Lazy Gator Drive towards Hidden Water Drive East, and swerved towards Angela Story, who was on the phone with the Sheriff’s office standing on the side of Lazy Gator Drive. Mark provided a written
Back in the main level of the factory, Wolf and Fox find Hawk lying on the ground, pale and unresponsive, his bulletproof vest next to him and the edges of a red stain showing around a wad of gauze. A soldier that Fox assumes is N-Unit's medic kneels next to him, along with Snake and Coyote. The three medics are talking frantically among themselves. The rest of N-Unit hovers nervously nearby; the rest of H-Unit is nowhere to be seen. Dust particles dance through the beams of sunlight from the holes where windows used to be, giving the whole scene a strangely dreamy air.
The driver, Cecilia Blair, of vehicle 1 was traveling north through the intersection of N. State St. and Flint St. when she had a collision with vehicle 2. The driver, Jacqueline Muir, of vehicle 2 was heading west on Flint St. when she was struck by vehicle 1.
Hi Mom! Hope you're doing well. I'm sorry that I haven't been writing to you in a while, things have just been pretty hectic here. None of us have been getting any sleep around here because we are all stuck in these trenches and are always on guard. Every morning, we'd get up and look around. We always have to stay in the trenches unless our "leader" yelled "Over the top", which means the call to attack.
Hello, this is Kelsey Maley reporting from a battlefield in France during spring of 1914. As you can most likely hear, the battle is booming behind us. The gunshots and cannon fires can be heard from miles away. From where I am standing one can also hear the cries and screams, and running horse hooves from the war below. Looking down we can see the khaki and grey uniforms either riding horses or hiding in trenches and with guns or swords. It is hard to concentrate on these men in uniforms because of the dirt and smoke covering the air around them. Walking up here is difficult because of the bumps in the ground. One may be able to feel the rumbling and shaking ground every time a cannon is fired. Each side is obeying the screams from their comandor
By March 1915 the influx of refugees from Belgium was almost at an end and Epworth played host to a social reunion consisting of games, dancing, and songs to bring together all those who had been housed in the Isle. Part of the entertainment featured songs from Mrs. W. Hirst and Mrs. R. Stephenson and a pianoforte solo by Mrs. Breeze. The month saw farmers becoming increasingly rueful; the fine weather created ideal growing conditions but a shortage of men and horse hampered progress. Indeed, there was concern that horses in the Isle were being ‘worked to death in order to make up for the lack of numbers.’ Members of the Belton VTC celebrated the opening of their new rifle range where Mr. G. H. Newborn exhorted them to use it well to learn
You have successfully entered enemy territory. You and the other recon soldiers have crossed the distance of open plain, skirted the barbed wire, and are close to the enemy trenches. You all lie on your stomachs in the mud, rifles in hand. So far, the going is good. You don’t seem to have been spotted, and no shouts of alarm split the air.
He saddened every time he thought of his mother and couldn’t bear the consequences of leaving her behind. Luckily, Friederick was always there for him, comforting him along the way.
I write to you today from a hospital bed in France. I know that may sound bad, but truly I am one of the lucky ones. I have lost so many friends in this past battle. I am sure you have probably heard news of this back home in England already. The first day of the battle on the Somme was a dark day indeed. I have heard it word here that it could have been one of the bloodiest battles to date. I do not even know how to begin describing the war, but I have to describe it to someone. I would never want to tell my parents of these horrors I am facing; it would be far too much for them to bear. You are my closest friend back home, and I know if it were not for your health issues, you would be here fighting too, so I feel I can tell you about all this. I know I volunteered for this, but I never in a million years could have predicted what war would truly be like. Looking back on it though, we are truly lucky that Britain is a country that relies on volunteer
It was February 23, 1939 Austria a young adult was taken away from his home and his casual day to day life. The second world war. Was taking place. We were swarmed into the streets and being taken out. People in confusion as to why these German soldiers are constantly yelling at us
After the battle of Somme, I was alone. All the men I had signed up with were gone. There was no time to grieve for them; Our division had to meet up with the others at Vimy Ridge. Immediately, we were handed maps of the Ridge. It was odd. We all had our own map to keep and study and we were explained exactly what to do. We even had to go through a scale model to know the lay of the land. Talk about overkill. It was nerve racking because of our tactic called a Creeping Barrage. After firing shells at the Germans for three weeks straight, we slowly aimed higher and higher while we followed the line of fire slowly. That way, the Germans would not be able to leave the trenches until it was too late. In those days that lead to a victory, Canada
Everyone here sucks. They all do the wrong choices, the wrong stuff, the wrong everything. I’m Mr. Hoo, and Turtle is the dumbest of all. Who puts all of her money in the stock market. Well thats dumb Turtle. She needs to be smarter times like 1,000,000,000(one billion).
in my diary. “ so my mom talked to me yesterday and told me ____ was murdered. Shot. At first I did not know what to feel or even how to, I never got to fully know the kid. I am just angry, sad, and confused, I do not know how to feel. Maybe that's how I grieve… Mom told me not to tell anyone but I told Re before she got the chance. I am so hurt that he is gone and my dad is off his feet, I do not know what to do I'm scared I just hate guns. Re keeps asking me if I'm ok and sometimes I do not even know. He was a good kid he did not deserve for his life to be ripped away from him. So much has happened in these last two years I don't know whether to scream, laugh, or cry. I'm not trying to dramatic I'm just lost I feel lost. Who would do something like that?”
He was standing on a stone walkway by the looks of it, he hadn’t paid much attention to the ground before. Now it was an image, and it was the most important one in the world to him. It was the final clear frame of his life. His shoes were neatly shined, his suit had been pressed that morning. Everything was perfect, right down to the American flag on his lapel. There was of course something wrong with this scene, however, it took the form of the three neat bullet holes in his chest.