The sun was high in the sky.
beating down hot rays on the gathered army,
lined in droves by the glistening waters
of the Bull Run;
waiting, impatience rising,
for the coming battle.

The wind was dry,
buffeting the soldiers as they staggered
from place to place, eyes on the horizon beyond,
searching out the city of Manassas;
thirsty, hot, guns cocked,
hoping for a swift win.

The dust was rising,
Whirling and twirling, blown into their faces,
As bandanas were tugged up to protect
already dry mouths from the onslaught;
annoyed, irritated,
men stamped their feet.

The bugle was sounding,
Loud and urgent, the drums answering
As the soldiers readied themselves, lining up
Guns hoisted, bandanas pulled down to reveal
Toothy grins and lazy smiles
As the enemy crested the hillside.

The initial gunfire was deafening,
Load and reload, men falling one by one
As Confederate grey met Union blue
On the fields above the city, screaming loud,
Duck and run; with nowhere to hide
As the shots brought them to their knees.

The silence, after, lingered,
Men in quiet rows two by two, side by side,
Murmuring quiet “he shouldn’t have died; no, not him”
As the men slumbered,
Stretched out together in a final act of camaraderie,
Awaiting burial.