Injured with a bloodied aching jaw, broken right arm, and fatigued head, I found a nearby tree, leaned against it, musket readied. Quenched for water, I used my good arm, pulled out the canteen and drank until emptied, then threw it to the ground. With the back of my bloodied hands, I wiped my face, then reached in my pocket for Mary’s picture. Her vibrant smile and bright blue eyes had made me forget the vociferous surroundings.
I had told her I would be home again, and we would have a happy life.
Footsteps approached and I dropped the photo.
I had told her I would be home again, and we would have a happy life.
Footsteps approached and I dropped the photo.
