The Sword of Antietam

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The first youth rode to the hill's crest, examining the southern landscape through powerful glasses while the other two dismounted and waited. All three were thin, their faces weathered by sun and wind, yet they possessed strong bodies and brave hearts beneath their faded blue uniforms. "What do you see, Dick?" asked Warner, leaning against his horse. "Hills, valleys, mountains, the August heat shimmering over all, but no human being," Dick replied. Young Pennington added, "A fine country, but right now, my Nebraska prairie would be better. We could see Stonewall Jackson's advance before he was upon us." Dick continued to scan the southern landscape, noting its beauty despite the summer heat. He observed lush valleys, tree-dotted hills, and the blue mountains heavily clothed in foliage, all under a dazzling blue and gold sky. The intense light allowed him to distinguish individual trees and rocks on the distant slopes. He spotted an occasional roof but no signs of life. While he understood the reason for this absence, years of experience had dulled the sadness he might have felt. This land had been ravaged by great armies, the tide of battle from a monumental war having surged back and forth, destined to rise again.