The Battle of Liberty (Confederate Victory)
The date was September 17, 1861. I remember only because I wrote a letter home that very morning. I could tell early that day that things were brewing, all the men could. Myself and the others sat in a circle around the remnants of the fire waiting for orders to move, like a pack of dogs lingering over the remnants of a meal. I didn’t know much about where we were, just that we were in the South. The air was brisk and seemed to match my mood as I waited impatiently for the impending battle orders.
Now, as I marched to meet my foe- one small soldier amidst an ocean of the anxious fervor of battle- I prepared myself for what was to come. My regiment was now a veteran force, all but immune to the effects …show more content…
As close as we were I could barely make out his form as I got the upper hand and smashed my musket into his head. I vaguely recall noting the grey of his uniform and fairly sighed with relief that we were not on the same side. Piteous cries reached my ears as more and more fell around me. The sides were locked in an epic battle. We raged valiantly on, a fine machine of war, for what could have been a year or a minute. Time was standing still for the soldiers that day. Finally I felt the body heat behind me wane. The canons boomed less frequently and I could hear the hurried sound of feet on hard-packed ground. I realized we were being pushed back and briefly thought about running, preserving my own skin. But no, I could not do …show more content…
I fired and reloaded my weapon again and again, no longer aware of anything but the intense rage I was feeling. They would not drive me back! Suddenly, through my anger, I felt a sharp sting in my chest. The smoke had lessened and I looked down to see a crimson stain marring my blue uniform. I had a fleeting thought of the letter I had written that morning, of how my family would be receiving mail from a dead man. Strange what a man thinks about in his last moments when his vision blurs and goes dark and he feels like he’s a million miles from where he is. I shut my eyes and let the cold embrace of eternal sleep wash over me as I thought about what a funny thing pride was and how at least I gave ‘em a good
The date was September 17, 1861. I remember only because I wrote a letter home that very morning. I could tell early that day that things were brewing, all the men could. Myself and the others sat in a circle around the remnants of the fire waiting for orders to move, like a pack of dogs lingering over the remnants of a meal. I didn’t know much about where we were, just that we were in the South. The air was brisk and seemed to match my mood as I waited impatiently for the impending battle orders.
Now, as I marched to meet my foe- one small soldier amidst an ocean of the anxious fervor of battle- I prepared myself for what was to come. My regiment was now a veteran force, all but immune to the effects …show more content…
As close as we were I could barely make out his form as I got the upper hand and smashed my musket into his head. I vaguely recall noting the grey of his uniform and fairly sighed with relief that we were not on the same side. Piteous cries reached my ears as more and more fell around me. The sides were locked in an epic battle. We raged valiantly on, a fine machine of war, for what could have been a year or a minute. Time was standing still for the soldiers that day. Finally I felt the body heat behind me wane. The canons boomed less frequently and I could hear the hurried sound of feet on hard-packed ground. I realized we were being pushed back and briefly thought about running, preserving my own skin. But no, I could not do …show more content…
I fired and reloaded my weapon again and again, no longer aware of anything but the intense rage I was feeling. They would not drive me back! Suddenly, through my anger, I felt a sharp sting in my chest. The smoke had lessened and I looked down to see a crimson stain marring my blue uniform. I had a fleeting thought of the letter I had written that morning, of how my family would be receiving mail from a dead man. Strange what a man thinks about in his last moments when his vision blurs and goes dark and he feels like he’s a million miles from where he is. I shut my eyes and let the cold embrace of eternal sleep wash over me as I thought about what a funny thing pride was and how at least I gave ‘em a good