The heat of the ululating fire reached me as I walked father up the shore. The roar of the fire and the ship mixed made it hard to hear my own thoughts. Where were the people? Are they dangerous? I heard a running noise coming from the jungle and held my gun out in front of me, unsure of what was on it's way to the beach. A boy, who was visually unappealing came stumbling out. He collapsed in the sand and didn't notice me at first. When he did, he cowered so I put my gun down. He was covered in deep wounds and dirt. His hair was almost in dreadlocks and you could hardly tell the true color of his skin through the grime. A large group of other boys came weezing out of the burning jungle. The first thought than ran through my head was if there were any adults with them. I was surprised to hear there wasn't. All of the other boys were holding spears, and seemed less cut up then the first boy.
" Are you having some kind of war?" I asked.
"Yes." The first boy answered.
I was surprised to hear this because they were so young. I could tell they had been on the Island for a long time. But for such young British boys to have a war, and burn the entire island, seemed insane. All of a sudden the first boy began to cry. His cry became contagious, and soon all the other boys were weeping as well. I wanted to hug all of them so badly, and tell them it was going to be okay. But instead I turned away, because I wasn't sure that everything was going to be okay after all.
Once they were done, we heaved ourselves on to the ship. I could visualize what the other soldiers would think when they saw this group of messy boys. I would need the leader to elaborate on his story of what happened, so I could tell the other men.
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