Through the whole time I was away from home my only thought was escape, but I knew that escape was impossible. Looking around the camp, I felt like I didn’t belong here. The experienced boys all had stern, hard looks on their faces; they looked like they hadn’t had any fun in a long time. The boys, Esteban, Juan, and the Whistler, they all seemed to be nasty and heartless; I would have to watch out for them. Then there were new recruits, like me, who were wearing troubled and wondering expressions on their faces, questioning what will happen next. I felt like a foreigner here, I was too afraid to ask anyone anything, and talking to my only friends here, Lolo and Ignacio, was impossible as well. For now I was alone. The Sergeants didn’t seem friendly, no, not at all. They looked like someone to fear and over all, respect if you wanted to live. There were mainly two thoughts shooting through my mind. The first one was, of course, how mother, Concepcion, and the babies would get along without me there to earn money for them. The second thought that was shooting through my mind was how life will be as a soldier in the fortress. How much food? How much sleep? Where will we sleep? Will I be able to talk to anyone? How will I survive? Is there any hope of escape at all? I didn’t know the answers to these questions for a long time. Not until the day, which seemed to be a month, was over. At the end I knew that I had to sleep outside, on a hill, on the floor, that there was not much time to rest, talk, and eat, and that there is absolutely no hope for escape, at least for now. For now I was a child soldier in the revolutionary army.
