I forced my eyes open. My whole body stung, and as I looked over my grey uniform, I realized why. Most of it was a dark red color.

I tried to move my arms, but only the left one budged. Then I tried my legs. For some reason, I felt sort of incomplete when I did that. Lifting my head from the damp ground, I was able to look at the lower half of my body. When I realized that I was missing half a leg, I didn't really seem bothered. The other half was just a twisted hunk of charred flesh. Seeing that made me feel nauseous.

Trying to get my mind off of my mangled body, I glanced around. The ground around me was littered with bodies, all of them in grey uniform, and none of them moving. The one next to me looked familiar, but my memories were very jumbled. I could tell he was an officer by his uniform, but his name kept slipping my mind.

Bee! That was his name. It came to me suddenly, and other memories followed. He was in charge of my unit, wasn't he? I had been standing next to his horse, while he had been letting loose a few select phrases, just before a Union bullet had sent him to the ground. Then a cannon had erupted, and that was all I could remember.

I reached to my belt, hoping to find my flask. I found it after a minute or two, unscrewed the cap, and tipped it over my open mouth. Nothing came out. I tipped it further, but still got nothing. Then it hit me. General Jackson had hunted down every bit of liquor and dumped it onto the ground. How I wished he hadn't done that! I desperately needed a slug of whiskey.

Jackson was an odd one, I thought. He always prayed at the strangest of times. I had caught him doing it once or twice while riding his horse. He was forever sucking on a lemon, too. And it was thanks to him that I was lying where I was. If he had come to help General Bee and the rest of us instead of sitting like a wall on that hill, half of my unit wouldn't be cold and motionless.

I wondered whether or not we had won. Somehow, I doubted it. We were being licked when I fell. And the fact that all of the bodies I could see were Confederates like myself wasn't exactly a heartening thought.

But I knew we would win the war. It would be a glorious victory for Jefferson Davis and the rest of us. There was no chance those Yankee dogs could beat our armies, especially since England would take our side. The Confederate States of America would rise up and look down upon our northern enemies, and joy would be in all of our hearts.

What was I saying? Us? I'd never live to see the day we'd be free of our northern oppressors. I chuckled. I'd be lucky If I saw the sunset tonight, and that was probably only a matter of hours away.

My breathing came less easily. If I had been a religious man, I probably would have commended my soul to God then and there. But I wasn't, so I just closed my eyes and wished that Jackson hadn't dumped out my flask.