When the soldier woke, he knew straight away that he was in deep trouble. He scrambled to his feet, dusting off and straightening his blue uniform and frantically looked around.
He was in the South Carolina wetlands that much was obvious. But the question was; how did he get there? Why was he there and how was he going to find his regiment again?
The soldier stood in silence, trying to recollect his thoughts. Slowly, he was able to piece together what had occurred.
The Confederates had attacked hours before. His Union brothers had fought them off as best as they could but were driven back. Then the soldier must have got hit in the head really hard because he remembered nothing else after that point, it was like someone blown out a candle; so blank was his memory.
What was his name? The soldier looked down at himself. He was a soldier, that much was obvious, so that meant he must have some sort of identification on him. The soldier searched through his pockets and found a photograph of a woman accompanied by a few letters.
The soldier looked over each item carefully. On the back of the photo there were some words written there. They read: Come home soon! We all miss you. Love, Rebecca.
Rebecca? The name rung a bell somewhere in his mind. The soldier read through the letters and found another name which he assumed was his: Michael Kilburn.
So Michael is my name? Suddenly the soldier could remember. Yes, Michael IS my name and Rebecca is my wife! He smiled in triumph but the smile soon vanished when Michael realized that he had a major problem that needed his attention.
He was lost and alone in Johnny Reb's territory. Not only that but Michael was now missing from his regiment for a long time now and most people probably thought he deserted.
Fear began to settle deep within his bones. Michael took several deeps breaths and began to move through the wetland at a cautious pace. He didn't know if any Rebs were around and he didn't want to take any chances.
A flock of birds suddenly rose up out of the undergrowth next to him. Michael instantly spun around to face the birds, expecting a grey soldier to come bursting forth, gun at the ready, teeth bared with a wild look in his eyes.
Michael cursed at his own paranoia and pressed on. He wanted to find some high ground or maybe a tree that was tall enough so he could get the lay of the land and figure out where to go.
He had some rations on him and his sleeping roll and a gun so he could probably last a few days but then what? Any Southerner he encountered wouldn't be friendly towards him. He'd have to steal from them.
Michael felt a pang of guilt at the thought of stealing from civilians then shook the feeling off. Why should he feel bad for them? If the South hadn't seceded from the Union then this war wouldn't have happened! This war is their fault!
He stopped walking and looked around. Michael's heart sank. Where am I? He thought. Now he was truly lost and would probably die from the sheer brunt of nature herself or from a Confederate.
Then he felt a little better when he spotted a house. It was in shambles and Michael doubted someone lived there.
Armed with new found courage, Michael dragged his sorry self along the river that snaked through the land and approached the house with extreme care. He peaked into a window and saw the house was empty.
Michael approached the back of the house and opened the door. Its hinges whined loudly causing Michael to pause and breath in sharply. He prayed no one had heard him. When no one responded to the noise, Michael proceeded indoors.
He inspected the entire house, downstairs and upstairs. There was no one. It was probable the house had been abandoned a long time ago, when the war began more then likely.
Something sharp dug into Michael's back. "Drop it and turn around." A voice hissed.
Michael laid his rifle down on the ground and slowly turned. His heart beat wildly as he saw the familiar grey of the Confederacy on the stranger in front of him. Would this Southerner listen to Michael?
"I'm not looking for trouble." Michael said.
The soldier ignored Michael's words. "You got any other weapons on you that I don't know about?" The soldier's accent was thick and definitely from the South, there was no mistaking the twang in his voice.
"I got nothing else," Michael said. "All I got is that rifle and bayonet."
The grey soldier seemed to be trying to make a decision judging by the way he was biting his lip and shifting from one foot to the other. "I should kill you!" The Confederate snarled.
Michael nearly broke down. "Please don't." He pleaded.
The Confederate laughed. "You Yankees have the audacity to plead for mercy when you destroyed the South? Oh that's rich!"
"I didn't destroy anything."
"Then why should I spare your life? Give me one good reason."
Michael fumbled for words. "I got a wife."
The Confederate frowned. "So do I Yankee and yet you wouldn't spare my life if this were the other way around!"
"What's her name?" Michael asked, trying to distract his foe from killing him.
"Susan. She's pregnant with twins."
Michael could sympathize with the man before him. "My wife's name is Rebecca. She's pregnant with our third child."
"You're just making that up." The Confederate accused.
"No!" Michael cried. "I am not!"
The Confederate relaxed somewhat. "Fine. I'll let you live, for now. But don't think for a second that you can run away."
The soldier picked up Michael's rifle and slung it over his shoulder. He pointed to the door. "Get moving."
ns3.16.215.60da2
然後按「加至主畫面」