He lay staring up at the sky, though the sun was hidden from his sight by smoke and dust and powder. The mini-ball had shattered his left thigh… he could not stand. The pain was excruciating, his hands were covered in blood from where he attempted to feel his injuries.

He could hear the rifles firing, accompanied by the cannon and rallying cries. What horrified him most… he could hear the crackling of the fire. He knew it was coming closer very fast, fueled by the trees in the Wilderness. A forest was no place for so much weaponry.

He looked one direction, then the other. Dozens of men lay in similar condition to him. Many of them screaming for help that could not come. Closest to him, he saw Tommy. He grew up with Tommy… with all these men. Their regiment all signed up from the same town. Tommy was the strongest of them, always steadfast and quiet.

When the fire reached Tommy, it caught his clothing first, but soon it engulfed him entirely. Tommy’s terrified screams echoed in his ears until Tommy’s powder went up, and Tommy was silent.

He rasped out a plea for help. He tried to crawl. He knew he was going to die. But he had to get away from the fire. He and the others had sewn tags with their names on them to their shirts. If he died in the fire, mama would never know what happened to him. He had to save that tag.

He felt his strength leaving him, and lost consciousness. Maybe he would not feel the flames.

He woke suddenly. They must’ve found him. He lay on his back on a table. Above him stood a man covered in blood and grime. The man spoke to others, “Hold him down.”

Then he felt the saw begin to bite into his flesh, he screamed and mercifully, lost consciousness again.

The leg that wasn’t there anymore hurt all the time, as if it were still present. All these years later, he stood on that damned crutch, looking out on a field full of markers.

He could hear their voices. He could hear their screams and feel their pain. The men that weren’t there anymore, that hurt all the time, as if they were still present.

⁃ Battle of the Wilderness, Civil War, 1864.

————-

She was playing in the street, kicking a ball with her friends. Her momma watched with a smile.

She was 13 that year. Her body was changing, and she noticed the boys looked at her differently. She was filling out, having to become accustomed to full breasts and wide hips, amongst other things. Momma had explained things to her. How someday she would have children of her own.

That was the day the soldiers came.

She wished she could talk to momma now. And papa. It had been months since that long ago day in the street. She knew she would never have her own children. It was all gone. Her womanly features were gone. What little flesh she had left hung from her bones loosely. She looked into the hollow, lost eyes of the people around her and understood she looked the same. Everything hurt. Her joints actually rubbed together.

When the door clanged shut, she looked at the shower heads. A warm shower would be such a relief. It would feel good on her filthy flesh.

She knew in her heart this was not a shower room. She heard the hiss of the gas. That would be a relief too, she thought.

⁃ Nazi concentration camp, 1940’s.

These accounts may be from my imagination, however they are based on actual events. Similar incidents happened many times.

As depressing as these events are, knowing history provides perspective. Knowing so many people never got to live their lives makes you appreciate yours all the more, even when things are bad.