11 min read
The Arm of Antietam
My stomach rumbled as we approached the edge of the woods. It was nearly midday, but I hadn’t eaten in hours. Supply troubles and nerves had left me with little food and next to no appetite. A combination that was less than ideal heading into my first taste of combat. Pa always told me war was nothing like the heroic tales I read about when I was young. He had fought in the Battle of Bad Axe back in ’32 and said that he had lost a piece of himself somewhere in those Wisconsin woods. A piece of himself that he knew he would never get back. But despite his many warnings I enlisted in the army anyways. Being the…