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Rated: E · Short Story · History · #1756303
Fictional story about the Battle of Gettysburg
It was the third day, he was exhausted from the previous two. With his rifle and bible in hand he formed up. The whistle blew and he marched on.

He passed the cannon line while it barraged. They fired everything they had, trying to give the attackers a fool's hope. He marched on.

The enemy fired back taking away the man's dearest friends. The ground was turning more and more red as the seconds passed. Limbs soaring in the air as cannons continued to shred the line. He marched on.

They were losing leaders and the men began to panic. Some retreated, others pressed onward. He marched on.

He reached the fence, others dropped all around him. He climbed over and marched on.

The remaining men fought to "the angle" which was the South's high water mark, as was his own.
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