Eulogy For Alaska Tribe

In the mid to late 1800’s brought about the “Treaty of Cession referred to indigenous people of Alaska as "uncivilized tribes." Such designation in legislation and other agreements caused Alaska Natives to be subject to the same regulations and policies as American Indians in the United States” (Benson, 2015). This was also followed up the 1884 First Organic Act, disputing Alaskan Natives any claims for the land they occupied, and the Major Crimes Act of 1885 that would not allow natives to process any criminal acts. This prompted the start of the Alaska Native Brotherhood (ANB), this organization united all the different tribes/clans of Southeast Alaska to bond together to press the US government for equality for all Native Alaskans (Benson, 2015). For several years, the Tlingit people fought politically against the US government for control and rights to the land they inhabited for centuries. Though the Tlingits won small advantages in the battle for ownership, such as the 1935 congressional ruling that allowed both the Tlingits and the Hiada Indians the right to sue the Federal Government for a land dispute. It wasn’t until 1971, when President Nixon signed in action the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act, becoming the largest land claims settlement in United States History. According to the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act,

The history of the Native Americans after the arrival of the Europeans is a history of wars, treaties and agreements, and broken treaties and broken agreements. As late as 1994 the governing bodies of tribal communities have signed treaties and agreements with the U.S. (Niles, 1996). As recently as 1999 the U.S. Supreme Court almost overturned treaty rights of the Chippewa Indians of Minnesota.

It was a warm, breezy summer morning in Tennessee, 1838. Under the cool shade of the trees was a village of a tribe called the Cherokees. Their houses had wooden walls made of cut up logs, their roofs were made of wood bark. Chea Sequa. Chief of the Wolf Clan village, stood tall and strong with long hair as dark as the middle of a sunflower (where the seeds are held through the long summers). His eyes were brown like the rich brown earth (that was used for farming). Amadahy (the Chiefs’ wife) stood confident, she had hair as dark as the midnight sky, and she had the powerful eyes that belonged to a wife and a mother of a young daughter. Adsila the chiefs daughter who is now 8 summers (years) old stood confident like her mother, but had the

Yesterday I was at work from sunrise till it was pitch black dark. Today I am completely wrecked and can’t be bothered doing anything but tomorrow and for however long the war goes for I will be at it again and again day after day. The days that follow after the battle are a thousand times worse than the days of the battle and it’s not the physical pain that hurts the most it is the mental pain that leaves the mark. The dead people look sickening but they don’t suffer any pain, But the poor wounded soldiers that still have their life are suffering both physical and mental pain and are living through what some people would call hell. I pray to God that this ferial event will stop. Our Regiment started this morning for Harpers Ferry. I am told with a few others and the nurses to remain here until the wounded have been removed then to join up with the Regiment again. I am expecting there will be another massive fight at Harpers Ferry again soon. My Dear Wife I dream of the day I pass the Hibbards house and see you and Amy waiting outside our house welcoming me with open arms, I also dream of the day I am lying next to you in front of our open fire with our beautiful daughter. You

I looked down at my yellow tunic and blue pants. Unlike other soldiers around me, I didn’t have armor. Our commander slowly brought us to a stop in front of what appeared to be Constantinople, the city we sought to take over. We had been attacking the city for over a month and still we hadn’t made it past the protective wall. They laid a chain across the mouth of the Golden Horn to stop our ships from approaching the city. “Charge!” Our commander yelled from atop his white horse. I took off running with towards the walls. As we ran I smelled body odor, blood, and death. The sound of heavy breathing, crossbows being fired, swords clashing, and screams of pain filled my ears. Dead bodies littered the ground around us. As I neared the wall I threw the ladder I had in my hands against the wall and started to

I remember the smell, the sounds, the taste of blood. I remember seeing my comrades fall beside me, the sting of the cuts. The numbness as I fell alongside them, the sadness, the tears. The price of war, I believe my father said that to me before he died. I remember being lifted and carried, I remember a laugh. Then I felt my mind slowly becoming numb, and soon my mind was consumed by the darkness. Like a wildfire it spread from the farthest of places, destroying everything in its’ path. It was over, the war was lost, hope gone; at least until today….

We all sleep and rest and eat in the trenches, but it’s not paradise. One night, the sound of loud booms woke us up. We were being attacked by some very dangerous artillery. We could feel every boom and every crack in the dirt above us. Many soldiers were not prepared for this and got sick. The attack come out of nowhere and frightened all of us.

I run away from the ruins, the wind tousling my hair. The tears I had shed, dried away, leaving me with a placid face. I had to make it back to camp before sundown. As I run, scouting for glass that might cut through my threadbare shoes, I pull a small dagger from my dress pocket. Not my weapon of choice, but when you’re living like this, you don’t have much of an option. The sky is filled with dark, hazy clouds, that blot out the sun. Though, they cover things that I am much more worried about.

The sound of screaming and swords clashing outside jolted me awake. I found myself pressed against the wall, sword and shield both in hand. The thane shouted commands to destroy everything in sight. With that, the sound of death was on the other side of the wall. I heard my mother’s screams become instantly silent. An army man shouted, “One down! The other cannot be found, sir.” My stomach became knotted as I thought of my mother, lying on the ground with no hope of waking up. I should have burst through the wooden door, swinging my sword in every direction until I heard the last breath of each Rine there. Instead, I sank to my knees and wept as I listened to the Comitatus invading my home. I waited for the thanes to come here and kill me as they did my mother. My father had managed to escape, but there is no way he could save me. However, I knew he did not care to anyways. The sound of men approaching the door took my breath away. My sobbing became uncontrollable. I heard the wooden door creek open, as I sank deeper and deeper into the dirt beneath me. A feeling of helplessness over took me. My life was over. The Rines had a mission to kill everything they saw, and I knew they saw me. One officer yelled,

"Your life continues because you have been spared the mines. You are given food and shelter in exchange for laurels in the arena. Do not forget that. And do not raise your weapon to any of the men in jest. One day you could be fighting with him at your back, to find your only ally would see you dead just as readily as your opponent," Livia coldly reminded him. Her cheeks were a bit flushed from anger though it could easily be dismissed as the heat of the morning sun, or the honeyed wine she drank from in a polished

After abandoning the camp we stumbled across the country side and found a house. As we sit by the wall, we think about our fellow soldiers now in heaven. I look up to the sky to see shepherds delight or more like the resemblance of the blood of the abandoned. Why everyone was quiet, I don’t know. There probably just tired from the great determination. Many of us seeking an end but will be disappointed and become depressed. Trepidation of death has occurred in several of us.

Blind to the truth of what really happens. It’s times like this where I am forever grateful for the experience I have already been faced with gruesome events. Yet that hateful feeling of dread continues to tower over me each and every day. It’s challenging to recall what it was like for me the first I set foot on the battle field, as it seems like a lifetime ago. I suppose that I have lived a lifetime in these trenches. I wish that with every enemy I shoot it shall not say with me. A constant reminder of our sacrifices, I’m on edge as it feels like a continuous want for death. Bewildered as to when it will strike again shaken by the fact that it could be me carried away, or left in the barbarous

“They died stupid, the five hundred men turned into blood thirsty Lycans, half wolf half man with the eyes of a murderous thirst for your blood.” Jack lunged forward growling at his brother who yelped and when flipping backwards of the bed.

A bitter coldness whips around your face in the harshness of the battered war. A snap of wind turning your already paled and dirt splattered face a frozen, cold red. Battered men bid to live on to the next battle.Vital blood that once was contained in a soldier’s body, now lingers, dryly splattered across your dull green colored uniform. Smiles of your once alive brother drills itself into your head. Their memory hitches onto your brain like a remora catching a ride with a shark.

The universe let Miles meet Alaska through a "great perhaps". I don't know why the universe let me meet her, but she really impacted me as a person. It seems silly to be writing this in remembrance of Alaska. "She's just a character in a book" you might say. It also seems absurd to imagine a grief so real for a person that doesn't exist. I recently got this opportunity to write my book report in any form of writingp; one of the options was a eulogy. Since just experienced a great fictional lost, I thought this topic was truly meant to be. So why not write it about the one and only Alaska Young?