Joseph Becker marched silently alongside his comrades, sheltered by the darkness of the tree canopy. His thoughts were strung together, a tangled web the wind had knotted so well. The movement of his feet was automatic, slightly out of step from the rest of his regiment, but there were no officers near to point out such minutiae. They were on a march
to their deaths, though none would admit it. General Ulysses S. Grant had called for reinforcements at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania and President Lincoln had responded by sending Joseph's regiment on their death-walk.
The only sounds ringing in the men's ears now were that of their feet on the forest path. No birds sang; they had been scared off long ago by the guns, but the men could no longer understand their fear...
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