Gettysburg was a blood bath. Hollow corpses that used to hold a life as delicate as a flower, lay everywhere covered in crimson. I'm not sure if freedom was worth all of these lives, but maybe it is. I don't think the loss of a battle is worth this many lives though. I'm lucky to have lived through it with two of my colleagues, Andrew, and Robert.
We patrol across the field examining the bodies to make sure none of them are still alive. I'm hoping I'll find my brother, Peter, but they don't know that. I don't want them to know that I am willing to carry my brother several miles back to camp. They wouldn't understand or allow it.
I hear a groan and look down at the pale fragile body closest to me. It's only a boy about fourteen years old with dark brown hair and dusty face. "Hey! Get over here I think we have a live one!" I yelled. They come running and skid to a stop.
"Do you recognize this boy?" Andrew asked hopefully.
"No," I sighed thankfully. Robert crouched down and peered down at the boy's face.
"Should we help him?" Robert inquired. That was the question everyone was wondering. Was it worth carrying a broken body all the way back to camp? I studied the boy's uniform. Confederate. The boy is a Confederate. I should ment- "No. He is a Confederate soldier," Andrew broke my thought.
"He's just a boy Andrew," I argued.
"No. I will not allow it Thomas. He is the enemy and we must kill him." Andrew snapped.
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I hope you guys like it so far. I decided to change it up and make more than just one chapter. Thanks for reading!