Why I Fight

          Who is it that has never not had an excuse to fight? To plunge headfirst into combat as though dependent on it? Man...man is who. Men fight willingly, killing at will. Why is it so few will ever feel? The date is April 1st 1945, The battle of Okinawa, the bloodiest battle of World War Two. (In order to preserve my identity I will be using fake names but everything else remains the same.) Capt. William Shaft, a tank commander from Iowa, is dispatched in a team of three Sherman Tanks.
          His orders: Rescue the men of Able Company. They were pinned on the beach, the Japanese 32nd Army outnumbering the men two to one. Men were dying, and running out of ammunition. They were mere seconds from a retreat when my Great Grandfather, (remember, fake names) William arrived. He order his three tanks to take position in front, so that they would take the brunt of the barrage of enemy fire. The tanks fired into the wilderness, keeping the enemy subdued.
          Able Company began loading wounded into the tanks, the most seriously wounded were allowed on, the less serious wounded stayed behind. William's tank, after firing multiple rounds into the trees, left the battlefield, over flowing with wounded men. But the enemy hasn't ever given up a fight. They attacked the tank with small arms, luckily only a few rounds penetrated the Sherman's armor. The rest of the way to base, William rode on the back, earning a bronze star.