Who are you? This is a question that has no real answer and all together is just that a question. What more can a simple question like that bring with it right? This on its own can be the state of mind of many people, many regardless of the nationality, beliefs or even what they stand for or rather what they believe they stand for. Can anyone really answer when they are asked who they are? Do they really know who they are besides the basic parts of identity regarding name age and nationality but do those things identify you ? Are they what determine who you are? Questions unanswered left lingering that's the way 99% of the world live their lives not knowing who they truly are and by the time they do know it's much too late to make an impact.

This is the story of Michael J. Swatson and his discovery. Michael J. also known as M.J was a short but strange fellow, a relatively lonely man who ran a small independent self sustaining farm. M.j was part of a long family of rich wealthy landowners that occupied a large quantity of land in the southern states. His family on of the top elite among the southern states and was relatively known for having good education and running the family business which consisted in the cultivation of cotton. M.j although part of such a wealthy family believed that money reputation and altogether wealth was only a material thing only valuable in this world. M.J was completely independant from his family's mass riches and just relied on the fat of the land and his own hard working hands. This although strange in those times made him unique made him a self sufficient individual and quit different from the rest of men around that time due to the fact that M.J was isolated in his own peace of earth, just him and the land.

LIttle M.j’s paradise and style of living of the fat of the land ended shortly after the start of the civil war. When a tall white male approached his front entrance with a grey dark suit . As the tall man said.

“my name is george .. george peterson”

M.j was delighted to meet the new strange man but was hesitant to allow him to get info of of him. As M.j and the grey suited man talked on the conversation suddenly changed tone as the man reached the topic of the war. M.J not very informed with the subject was astonished at the amount of information he was being provided by the man. It  was as though he was a General a soldier or rather someone who was very informed on the topic. As if the man was coming to a closing point he asked M.J

“Are you willing to fight for your side…. or not are you a soldier? Who are you”

M.J surprised by the sudden tone the man had taken responded by telling him his true thoughts on the subject. According to M.J The civil war was nothing but a war of fouls and was in reality nothing more than the rise of humanity the rise of African Americans from the ranks of white ignorant men. The tall man listened as if M.j had a long life story to tell and looked straight into M.j’s eyes and asked.

“If a man is not man enough to fight for the land he loves to protect that land with everything he has he is not a man hes just a coward.. nothing but a coward”

The man stood up and started walking towards the exit. As he walked away he heard a voice call from behind.

“Who are you”

  The tall man kept walking as though nothing had been said and M.j looked on. Suddenly the same malevolent voice came across.

“I am in service ..I..I am a  nothing more than a fellow friend you met today nothing more”
M.j was left with that and the memory of the tall man who had appeared and disappeared in less than an hour. M.j living a life alone in the suburbs had no one no family for miles and miles. And when registration came for the civil wars southern states M.j thought about it and the simple fact that in reality no one would notice if he was gone made him want to join his side. After a week or so he decided to go off on the new adventure. He was going as a medical professional although he was a farmer M.j was a graduate in medicine and thought he could at least help the wounded from the south where he was born and raised.

After a few short weeks M.J was diploid in virginia and was forced to leave immediately thus leaving his farm to the care of his friend. As soon as Mj arrived at a stronghold left in Nicholas county virginia He started at first treating the men with small injuries not from war but from the conditions they faced every day. The second day there M.J was forced to proceed with an helping a in the amputation of a young mans arm after being completely detached and deformed is such a way that there was no shape of an arm and instead a shriveled up piece of cloth holding what was left from the blow. M.J was horrified by the things he saw after that children as young as 12 with arms diminished to stumps by canyons blows. Men shot and bone splintered after the splinter of the mighty union musket.

On September 9, 1861, M.js camp was woken by the thunder of horses running back and forth through the tents. M.J suited in the usual medical uniform but was surprised with a different instrument. A rifle and a box of bullets was handed to him as he hurried to the medical tent he encountered a s soldier of higher rank riding a house he looked up and there in those eyes those deep blue eyes who almost appeared gray in the morning sun he saw the same grey suited man calling out orders left to right. The man stopped as the horse rose up on its hind legs.
“Run!” go to the bridge now ! the northern bastards they're taking over !
With that the grey eyes drifted off and M.J was left there waiting for his body to respond to his mind waiting for the shock to stop waiting to be able to run. As soon as M.J felt the ability to move he of to the bridge. As he passed the tents empty now he realized he was the only one left. He rushed to the bridge running with no breath left in him and he heard the first musket fire. Right then left then right again one after the other shots went off and then the loudest sound he had ever heard a great blow was heard across the field and a half second later a tree 20 feet from his position was disintegrated into a million pieces. The shock so profound it flung M.j just enough to make him lose his balance and as he looked forward falling he got the sight of the bridge and behind him 4 to 6 union soldiers. Fallowed by a whole army of blue elegantly dressed men. M.j now so stunted by everything going around him could no longer stand he was not hurt tho he felt he had no more strength he just lay there and looked on to the bridge where the grey man stood on his black horse. M.J saw a grim smile in the man's face as he pulled a knife from his pocket. cutting the main bridge supports off he placed something red a big stick under the side of the side of the bridge where the wood meet the dirt. M.j watched as his last hope of survival was extinguished and as he looked back at the union army he heard a mighty blow and that was it M.j new that was the end. He grabbed his gun and sat back as he saw shots zipping overhead. At that moment he realized who the man in the grey was he was a spy recruiting men to fight in what M.J new was a war for fools. But there he was awaiting the final blow and thinking zoning all the sounds out making them silent thinking who was he. Who was M.J in reality and why why did he choose to listen to allow the man in the grey suit to make him wonder who M.J really was when after all he himself knew inside he was a farmer who stepped up who was tempted and was killed on the battlefield as a confederate hero. That was the answer he was looking for all along.

That ends the story of M.j the man who wondered who he was who asked himself the final question but at his last moments on the land the rich land that gave him his true life farming.