“It was early spring in 1864. The weather was cold, and a misting rain was falling. I was huddled around a small campfire with eighteen other soldiers. It was suppertime, and we were eating our beans and hardtack. We heard a low boom of cannon, and seconds later, a canister round hit right in the campfire, exploding and spewing deadly fragments everywhere.” “Oh, that’s positively awful, Luke. Did it kill anyone?” Josh asked, aghast. “Yes. It killed everyone. Or so they thought,” Luke spoke slowly, and Josh became puzzled. “What do you mean by that, Luke? I don‘t understand,” Josh…
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