"Dear Journal, Everyone here talks about " the cause"ÃÂ. Most say that freeing the slaves is what drives off, others feel we're fighting to preserve the United States. I heard one man to go as far as to say that we were fighting to keep the Brits off this continent. Now I know the British have nothing at all to do with this war, after all that soldier did smell like he took a bath in whiskey, but I am leading many a good soldier to death for a supposed cause that can't even be agreed on. I'm not sure I even know anymore. From when I was growing up back home in New York to my graduation from "The Point"ÃÂ, I was rarely, only once or twice that I can recall, introduced to a negro. I'm fighting for a race that I know essentially nothing about. Regardless of the cause, I'm scared, I'm real scared, all the training in the world could never prepare me for that horrid Rebel yell.
And after last night's defeat, in which I was not even engaged, I sit on top of a hill known as Little Roundtop scared toothless waiting for those Rebs"ÃÂ¦"ÃÂ "Leiutenant Gallagher, sir?"ÃÂ "Yes, Colonial?"ÃÂ Gallagher said sheepishly, while closing his journal. He saved the page with the small piece of charcoal he was writing with, and quickly saluted Colonial Chamberlain.
"Leutenant, they're gonna be coming at us pretty soon. I just want you to make sure your boys stay low and make sure there is never a break in your line. I'm damn glad to fight next to 'ya "ÃÂ Saluting, "Yes, Colonial Chamberlin, the honor is all mine. And may God be with you, sir."ÃÂ Gallagher said feigning confidence "And also with you"ÃÂ¦"ÃÂ Chamberlain said. Saluted, then moved on down the line two-hundred yards or so.
Gallagher's nerves had always effected his decision making in battle. The expectation alone now left his body and cold and shivering. He put his journal in his pack and picked up his revolver and waited, his body shaking. Looking down the hill into the sea of green and brown, he noticed movement.
"They're coming!"ÃÂ one baby-faced soldier yelled reporting the arrival of the enemy.