Fight Crew Descriptive Writing

I awoke that day to the sounds of men yelling and whips cracking, people screaming and chains rattling. I had no idea where I was. Though I had a splitting headache, I could tell I was moving, on something like a stretcher. I opened my eyes slightly, and saw that I was being carried by some men who appeared to be Fulani, along some sort of beach. I assumed I was on the coast, for when I glanced toward the sea it appeared to go on until it met the horizon. After understanding where I likely was, I tried to recall where I had last been. Last I could remember, I had been in Gobir, fighting the Fulani warriors…

Our general lead us into the village on the outskirts of Gobir, under cover of darkness. It was disturbing to see the burned out huts and charred foliage lit up only by the moon and the stars. The more we walked, the more we could see the effects of the hard-fought battles. We neared the village center. The well had been leveled. We took our positions in preparation for the expected ambush. We waited for hours. My fellow troops began small conversations to release the tension, trying their best to hide their fear. The more they talked, the lower the moon got, until we were in nearly complete darkness. As I stared out into the night I noticed strange shadows
From the sounds that ensued it seemed that we were leaving the beach. I bent my neck to look around at the other people who were locked up. They seemed to have noticed the movement too, and had started murmuring among each other. I strained my ears to listen to what people had to say. From little bits and pieces I gathered that we were leaving the coast to travel to a mysterious land called “America”. Somebody must have been able to understand the light-skinned men’s language, because whenever somebody murmured a question there was always a quick answer. I decided to find this person’s name by asking the people around