Elliot must have been thinking the same thing, because I saw his hands ball into fists as he watched men fall around us. Gritting my teeth, I willed myself to focus. I was here for one thing, and one thing only. I began looking from face to face, skipping over the ones that were obviously wounded beyond hope. Those men were not my Butterfly. Grabbing Elliot’s hand, I began a painstakingly slow creep down the line of soldiers. We crawled through dirt and blood and who knew what else, each of us taking care not to get in anyone’s way. I didn’t know a lot about the Battle of Gettysburg, but I did know that accidentally getting a soldier killed who was supposed to survive or saving a soldier who wasn’t supposed to be saved could alter the future irreparably. We made our way down the battle line, but it was slow going, and at times the gunfire was so loud and so constant it felt like my brain was going to implode.

“Here comes the fourth charge,” someone called, and what was left of the men behind the wall staggered to their feet.

“They won’t withstand a fourth charge,” I said, and I was almost right. The Union soldiers were outnumbered, and within moments the Confederates were close enough that the men gave up on their guns and clubbed at one another with bloody fists and bayonets. It was impossible to stay out of the fray, and I gasped as someone’s foot connected hard with my ribs. Elliot yanked me sideways before I could accidentally trip anyone, and we huddled next to what was left of the stone wall as things went from bad to worse. I screamed as one of the men took a gunshot directly to his stomach and fell backward. He lay in front of us for a moment, and I felt my own stomach roll. But before I could throw up, the man blinked and rolled over; glancing down, he removed a smashed bullet from the front of his metal belt buckle, discarded it, and quickly rejoined the fight.

“That’s unbelievable,” I said, turning to see Elliot’s reaction, but instead of looking amazed, his eyes were narrowed as he watched the man throw a punch. I wanted to ask Elliot why he was so worried about the miracle man, but we had to jump apart a second later to avoid getting trampled.

The fourth charge went on for what felt like forever, and it was impossible to tell who was winning. I thought for a second that this was it, that the Confederates had finally succeeded when they retreated back down the hill. As the Union soldiers attempted to regroup, I ventured up to my knees to peer over the wall and watched as Confederate reinforcements arrived.