Battle of Petersburg Narrative
The explosion grabs me from my daze-like state, and as the bomb's blast shakes the earth around me I cannot help but think that this fight will be my last. The bomb continues to go off, to mold its own world of rock and stone, and it seems as though the screaming and yelling will never cease. One call rises above the rest and I can tell that it's my commander, ordering us to charge forward into the tendrils of flame and ash. The ringing inside my ears has not yet stopped and it is all I can do to not move with my fellow soldiers, to walk away from the war that has so enticed me. But the people to my back continue to push me ahead, into the hole that looms just in front of where we stand. What was a calm and peaceful forest with birds and tall trees moments ago has changed into the bloodiest war zone my eyes have seen, and yet no shots have been fired. We continue to march, the sun now completely blocked with smoke from the blast.
We enter the narrow tunnel that has taken weeks to dig, and I can barely see the commander in front as I am towards the back of our regiment. It is easy to find us however as all the African fighters were lumped together into just a few regiments, which I'm not sure is a blessing or a curse, us being shoved onto the front lines in the way that we are. We continue to march into the middle of the poorly constructed tunnel, dirt still falling from the ceiling, the walls surrounding the soldiers radiating from the horrific blast. It is quite ominous in fact, the dark, damp tunnel with all of us soldiers, marching straight into enemy fire. We walk, our boots caked with mud, our unwashed and grimy hair slightly damp from the wet tunnel. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, literally. The smoke must have cleared outside of the tunnel, as daylight streams through the newly made hole, lighting up our echoey footsteps as we near the end. I can already hear the gunfire of Confederates, and I ache to turn and run, to return home to my family. Many must still not be able to hear after the blast, as they continue to march without hesitation straight into the onslaught of cannon and gunfire. I shout out to turn around, but I am not heard over the roar of war. I see our commander as the first one walk into the daylight. I watch him look around, shielding his eyes from the light. Why isn't he moving? I think to myself. He should be running! The plan is to exit the crater! We keep marching forward, and I understand the mistake we made is irreversible. I'm not sure what it is, but our commander is a smart man, and he wouldn't stop without reason. A tall soldier moves in front of me and the commander is gone from sight. I jump and catch a glimpse of him as more and more soldiers exit the tunnel into the daylight, but he is clutching at a gunshot wound to the chest. All the new soldiers swarming around him seem to be shot as well. I scream and scream for the march to cease as we had not yet exited the tunnel, but it wasn't enough. The mob just kept moving forwards, pushing me along with them. I dug my heels into the ground, I shoved at the other soldiers, anything to get us to stop our triumphant trod into the impending bloodbath. The light grows stronger with each passing step, striking fear into my heart. By now, I have given up my protest and choose to walk strongly into my death. We finally make it into the crater and I step into the excruciatingly bright light.
The surrounding glow blinds me for a moment and I stumble, trying to regain my vision as guns fire around me. I attempt to run back into the tunnel, but the sheer amount of soldiers pouring out of the tunnel is enough to keep anyone from re-entering the cavern. The brightness fades and I get a good look around me before realizing hundreds of Confederates are trying to shoot my brains out. I realized part of the reason our commander stopped the plan was because it couldn't work; the hole was simply too big. The sides were just too sloped for us to exit, meaning those Johnny's didn't even have to aim to kill one of us. I quickly prepped and loaded my rifle and began to fire; remaining cautious about enemy soldiers firing from all around us. A searing pain hits the back of my leg and I wince, not wanting to look down until the fighting ceases. However knowing this is impossible, I take a quick glance down at my injured shin, just for a moment. That look turns from one second to ten as I realize what used to be my right leg doesn't even look like a leg anymore. The shattered bone lays in chunks on the ground and the maroon hue of blood covers every inch of exposed skin. I quickly have to resume shooting to resist the urge to vomit. The fight remains in the same way for a while, a battle involving us being slaughtered mercilessly until I hear a yell from Grant that is not heard often, a call to retreat. As I hobble back through the tunnel I entered mere hours ago, I think how important that this battle was. It gives the South confidence, and in war confidence can be deadly. At least now, since my leg will most likely need to be amputated, this war is something I don't need to be part of. The fight, while it was a short experience for me, will still have a forever grip on my life. It is something, I can say stumbling off the battlefield (alive no less), that I will never forget. All of the sweat, blood, and tears I have shed; the memories and horrors of war seared into my brain; and the irreversible wounds I have suffered are all things that I will never, ever forget. This battle, as well as this entire war, will remain a part of my life until the end of my days.
We enter the narrow tunnel that has taken weeks to dig, and I can barely see the commander in front as I am towards the back of our regiment. It is easy to find us however as all the African fighters were lumped together into just a few regiments, which I'm not sure is a blessing or a curse, us being shoved onto the front lines in the way that we are. We continue to march into the middle of the poorly constructed tunnel, dirt still falling from the ceiling, the walls surrounding the soldiers radiating from the horrific blast. It is quite ominous in fact, the dark, damp tunnel with all of us soldiers, marching straight into enemy fire. We walk, our boots caked with mud, our unwashed and grimy hair slightly damp from the wet tunnel. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, literally. The smoke must have cleared outside of the tunnel, as daylight streams through the newly made hole, lighting up our echoey footsteps as we near the end. I can already hear the gunfire of Confederates, and I ache to turn and run, to return home to my family. Many must still not be able to hear after the blast, as they continue to march without hesitation straight into the onslaught of cannon and gunfire. I shout out to turn around, but I am not heard over the roar of war. I see our commander as the first one walk into the daylight. I watch him look around, shielding his eyes from the light. Why isn't he moving? I think to myself. He should be running! The plan is to exit the crater! We keep marching forward, and I understand the mistake we made is irreversible. I'm not sure what it is, but our commander is a smart man, and he wouldn't stop without reason. A tall soldier moves in front of me and the commander is gone from sight. I jump and catch a glimpse of him as more and more soldiers exit the tunnel into the daylight, but he is clutching at a gunshot wound to the chest. All the new soldiers swarming around him seem to be shot as well. I scream and scream for the march to cease as we had not yet exited the tunnel, but it wasn't enough. The mob just kept moving forwards, pushing me along with them. I dug my heels into the ground, I shoved at the other soldiers, anything to get us to stop our triumphant trod into the impending bloodbath. The light grows stronger with each passing step, striking fear into my heart. By now, I have given up my protest and choose to walk strongly into my death. We finally make it into the crater and I step into the excruciatingly bright light.
The surrounding glow blinds me for a moment and I stumble, trying to regain my vision as guns fire around me. I attempt to run back into the tunnel, but the sheer amount of soldiers pouring out of the tunnel is enough to keep anyone from re-entering the cavern. The brightness fades and I get a good look around me before realizing hundreds of Confederates are trying to shoot my brains out. I realized part of the reason our commander stopped the plan was because it couldn't work; the hole was simply too big. The sides were just too sloped for us to exit, meaning those Johnny's didn't even have to aim to kill one of us. I quickly prepped and loaded my rifle and began to fire; remaining cautious about enemy soldiers firing from all around us. A searing pain hits the back of my leg and I wince, not wanting to look down until the fighting ceases. However knowing this is impossible, I take a quick glance down at my injured shin, just for a moment. That look turns from one second to ten as I realize what used to be my right leg doesn't even look like a leg anymore. The shattered bone lays in chunks on the ground and the maroon hue of blood covers every inch of exposed skin. I quickly have to resume shooting to resist the urge to vomit. The fight remains in the same way for a while, a battle involving us being slaughtered mercilessly until I hear a yell from Grant that is not heard often, a call to retreat. As I hobble back through the tunnel I entered mere hours ago, I think how important that this battle was. It gives the South confidence, and in war confidence can be deadly. At least now, since my leg will most likely need to be amputated, this war is something I don't need to be part of. The fight, while it was a short experience for me, will still have a forever grip on my life. It is something, I can say stumbling off the battlefield (alive no less), that I will never forget. All of the sweat, blood, and tears I have shed; the memories and horrors of war seared into my brain; and the irreversible wounds I have suffered are all things that I will never, ever forget. This battle, as well as this entire war, will remain a part of my life until the end of my days.