I found his body at the foot of an oak tree, his face torn with the agony of being shot twice. He knew it was coming. He told me last night he had a dream. In the dream he was walking back home after the war and his mother was walking beside him with a one of our battle flags. She held the flag up and began to wipe his cheek with it. That’s when he woke up. I guess when it’s your time to die there’s not much you can do.

We had an awful fight today. Most of the men gathered around the fire last night and played cards, smoked what tobacoo they had, and wrote letters for home. We knew it was going to be a bloodbath, but no one left camp. Amazingly we all remained to do our duty today. The cost was enormous, but the General knows what he’s doing.

The sky is beginning to clear, so I guess I’ll get some sleep under these beautiful stars. The fires across the battlefield spread a ways before settling down to just a few embers. But the smoke has just now begun to blow south, toward home. Tomorrow me walk on.