behind me and knocked me out. They took everything and left me with nothing but the cloths on my back. I woke up in a field about one hundred yards off I-75 with the sun in my face. I don’t know how long but at best guess it was at least three days. There must have still been people in Chattanooga; I underestimated them, my closeness to the town and danger. There is no way I can go back and recover my rifle or anything else; I would not know were to begin. The rifle had a lot of sentimental value to me; it is one of the few ties to my family, my brother that I had left. My walking stick was the same, it has been in my hand as I walked through out the years with my family; I need it now most of all to steady me these last miles home. If I make it.I had about 70 miles left on my journey home. I have walked the past few days at a very slow pace, looking for enough supplies to get me home. My head is still bleeding and the beating I took left me limping. I don’t know what satisfaction they got from beating up on an old man, but it has left me very sore. How I survived, I don’t understand. With all that I have been through I should have been dead long ago. It is like a cruel joke; how could an old man out live all his family and be left complete
ly alone? My family; I let my son’s down, I let my wife down…..maybe a knock in the head is what I deserve for writing down all those buried memories.Here I sit in another old abandon store, I should be gathering up supplies, but instead I am writing on this old spiral noteboo
k like I’m writing a letter to someone. I started out writing all this to my past self. I have left these notes all over the country like bread crumbs of my past life. I can’t explain why, I can’t see what good it does, but yet I keep on writing. Am I insane, or have I been dead these last three years and this is my hell. I’m tired of all these questions, I will sleep now and tomorrow I will walk some more what other choice do I have….Go to Day 1110
