A bullet ripped through the man, his rifle musket falling uselessly to the ground as he collapsed to the already blood soaked earth. It wasn't long before he died but before that even happened another hesitantly stepped forward to take his place, preparing for the next volley.
Everything was bloody, the officers, the soldiers, the guns, the cartridges. The earth its self looked to be bleeding, long gouges of cannon fire were scattered all around, the body count uncountable and the screams of dying men blotting out everything except for the sounds of the cannon and gun that dominated the battle. However, among the first row of the firing line a boy hardly sixteen years of age fired off round after round the mini balls missing him be mere inches. He would have looked very heroic if he wasn't caked in the blood of his comrades and opposition, with the kind of anger only the young can have stuck to his face and the rage in his eyes he looked more terrifying than heroic. But perhaps that's just what a war like this needs.
"Fire," shouted the sergeant, his well trained voice cutting distinctly through the chaos. At the sound of his voice twenty muskets fired, pitifully weak compared to their firepower just a half an hour ago.
"Reload," he bellowed again, his soldiers already moving as quick as they can. Before a bullet seemed to come out of nowhere a hit the sergeant in the side of the head, killing him instantly. Before the soldiers had time to recuperate however, a force of Confederates came charging through the smoke and into the unit.
The area immediately became a mass of bodies, cries, and more blood. A thrust forward, a jump to the side, a knee to the nearest face the boy was fighting like a madman. Grabbing a weapon of the ground after losing his rifle in the guts of a Confederate, noting it was the sergeants sword, and swung at the nearest opponent. The ground became a little more bloody, somehow managing a parry he lunged forward into a rebel taking them both down but managing to cut open the other mans throat while on the ground. As the boy stood up quickly, he heard a click of a hammer, he turned to see a Confederate officer with his handgun, and the pop of a revolver was all he could hear. The bullet cut cleanly through his shoulder, sending the boy to the ground with a cry of pain though still managing to retain the saber somehow.
The boy began to have trouble breathing and his body began to feel numb. No... can't die... not...yet, his thoughts became unclear as well. He was dying and the boy knew it, but still tried to cling on to the life he still had. It's funny how the world almost never gives you what you want, but their are times were you feel like the world listens, and answers.
In the chaos of battle, nobody would likely notice a body disappearing.
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