The auctioneer slams his mallet on his podium. “Sold for $350 dollars to the man in the back!” The man stands up as many others around him congratulate him with slaps on the back. My name is Michael Harris, and I have been sold.
It’s March 2nd 1859. A truly terrible day. There are over 400 of us slaves. Our master has lost all of his money gambling, now he had to sell us all to pay for his debt. People with and without families. Most families got all sent to different plantations completely. After watching my new master, who is named Justo Liendo, sign a series of confusing papers that I couldn’t fully understand, I am loaded off and we were being shipped to his plantation which rests near the middle of Texas.
The ride is awful. The white folk got to sit in peace and quiet, while the three slaves he had bought, sat in the back. It’s bumpy, hot, and dry back there. It takes almost three days, and they gave us minimal food and drinks. During the ride I learned a few things about the plantation. It’s called the Liendo Plantation. It was built in 1853, actually built by slaves! It was a amazing 67,000 acres long! By the time we arrived I was so weak. I felt I could barely move. The sun beat down on us, as if we had forsaken it. We were given a small serving of bread and water to replenish our bodies, then we were thrown into work.
*

*

*
A long time passed. I’m not sure how long. It must’ve been at least a year. I didn’t hear much from just working, though there was small talk of a war startin’. The North tryn’ to save the slaves and such. That’d be neat. I’m keeping a journal in my quarters about my life. Like a diary. The work is the hardest I’ve ever had. My back is sore. My hands are callused, and every day when I come home, I find that I can barely move my arms or legs, and that I have acquired even more cuts and bruises.
*

*

*
Somethin’s definitely goin’ on. Talk of a war has escalated.We might be free at last.The South has seceded and war has been declared. Liendo has also been hosting cavalry and infantry training camps for confederate troops.
Master caught wind of my writings, and he beat me for it. he gave me 15 lashes of the whip. That’s what gets me the angriest. This is America isn’t it? The land of the free? The right of free speech and press? I believe the white folk try and raise us without knowledge of these liberties, because if we did we would see, in the utmost purity, how vile, cruel, it is and that slavery is against basically every “right” that all humans should have. Why? America is in the midst of an Industrial Revolution. Makin’ all them fancy machines. I bet they could make a machine that does the same job for cheaper, and better! It is truly outrageous. Taking hundreds of thousands, maybe even millions of HUMAN lives, when it could take just a few.
That’s why I’m leaving. I’m running away to go join the Union (That’s the North). I rest until the moon is high in the sky and there is no light. I wake one of my bunkmates.
“Jeremiah! Jeremiah! Wake up!” I shout in a hushed tone. He sits up quickly and has a look of shock on his face.
“What! What is it!” He shouts as he sits up his eyes wide in shock. I cover his mouth with my hand to quiet him.
“Quiet! Do you wanna get caught up after hours?” I say under my breath.
“No.”
“Good. Then shut it. I’m running away, and there ‘ain't nothin you can say that’ll stop me. I’m going up North to join the army, and you’re coming with me.”
“Are you crazy? If you run away, they’ll catch you. And after what just happened with the writing and all, they’ll give you the beatin’ of a lifetime, they might even sell you! And plus, I don’t think the Union will let blacks join,” he protests.
“I know,” I says. “let’s just say that everything goes perfectly though. Lets just say that I go without getting caught, and they let me join the army. Then I can fight. Fight for me. Fight for all slaves caught in this grueling life of hardship. I’m willing to die to end what has been started, and if death is the way it’s gonna happen, that so be it. We live in the land of the FREE, Jeremiah. Does anything that goes on within the boundaries of this field represent freedom in any way possible?”
“No, but the chance of all that turning out they way you want it is next to none.”
“Well, it’s worth it. I’d rather get beaten every single day until I die if that means that I can have a chance of freedom, over and over. I’m going, with or without you and I’m going now.”
“I can’t go,” he mutters. He sits up on his bed. I can’t tell what he’s feelin’. Weather it it worry, or desperation or despair. “I admire your courage Michael, but I’ll never have it. I can’t go.”
“You’re a coward,” I spat, and snuck out the door.
*

*

*
The day is April 23 1862. I sit in front of the president in Washington D.C.
“Mr. President, it is my pleasure.” I say.
“Thank you Mr. Harris. What have you come to see me for?” He asks.
“Mr. Lincoln, I would like to join the army,” I start.
“Mr. Harris you know I can’t do that.” he says with a light chuckle.
“Then I beg you to make it legal. It only seems fair. For the past year and for many before that I have been worked almost to my death. I have seen first hand the cruelness and injustice in slavery. See, the Northerners fight to free the slaves, but they aren’t the only one’s who want the blacks freed. The blacks want to fight for themselves! If you wish to have them as free men, treat them as so! Let them join the army! We will fight with the ferocity that no white man has seen, because we are fighting for us! The freedom of our people! The white man can’t say that! So, Mr. President, if you truly wish us to be free men, let us fight,”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he mutters. A sense of ease fills my heart as I think that I may be able to represent myself and all other blacks on the battlefield
*

*

*
It is July 1st 1863. I am stationed at Gettysburg. I am part of the army. After I talked to the president he passed a law to let blacks join the army in May of 1862. Since then, I have been in two other battles since then. The battle of Chancellorsville, on May 1st-4st, 1863. There were nearly 24,000 casualties. The Confederates won the battle. I was also in the battle of Stones River. It started on December 31st, 1862 and ended on January 2nd, 1863. The Confederates also won this battle.
We have lost some good battles, and we need this one. Even though with each battle that I run into I risk dying, I will never stop fighting. I will fight for me and my people through thick and thin. Though I am free, I will not stop until everyone is. Until all is that it should be. Then, I shall be content.