The Soldier Time Forgot

Prologue

Hi! It's been a while since I started a new story but I'm very excited about this one. I'm co- writing this with a good and even better writer​ GoTfan25966. Go check out his page and his other books if you like this one. 😀.

For my Auschwitz readers, worry not I am still working very hard on it. And a new chapter will be up soon, I promise. I hope you all will give this one the love you've given it.

So without further Ado...

The Soldier Time Forgot

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Prologue:

July 1st, 1863

Gettysburg, Pennsylvania

Thomas Elliott leveled his musket and fired again. Christ, the damn Rebs just kept coming. Why were there so many of them? They bred like damn flies!

Tom was fighting his first battle for the Union, and it wasn't going that well at the moment. The Union lines around this small town were being broken, and now Tom found himself in the fight of his life. He ducked down behind a stack of barrels just as more shots flew past him. As he reloaded, another blue-clad Union soldier dived behind the barrels with him. It was his Cherokee friend, Mohe.

"Not exactly what you thought war was like, eh Tom?" Mohe laughed, firing his own musket. The Cherokee man had been fighting this war for nearly a year now, and had befriended Tom quickly.

"No, definitely not, Mohe!" Tom replied, ramming the bullet down the barrel of his weapon.

"Standard order just came through. Reynolds is dead. Buford gave orders for us to retreat to the high ground." Mohe said.

"What!? We can't just abandon this town; they'll be right on our asses if we do!" Tom protested. Mohe sighed, he knew the young man was right. With the Union forces in disarray, no one was available to cover the retreat, and with no one to cover the retreat, the entire 56th Pennsylvania Regiment-their regiment-would be slaughtered.

"There's no one ready to protect our rear, Tom. We just have to hope for the best!" The Cherokee shouted as his friend aimed and fired. As Tom duced down again, he realized that hoping for the best wasn't going to work out for them. The Confederate troops would pursue them all the way back to the high ground outside of town. He sighed to himself, ready to accept his fate. If he was not to survive his first battle, so be it. He reloaded.

Get out of here, Mohe. Make sure our regiment fights tomorrow." He said quietly. Mohe just looked at him in shock.

"Tom, I'm not just letting you die here. You've got to go back to Mary one day!" Mohe shouted.

"I said, get out! Get out of here while you still can, and make these bastards pay for what they're doing to our state."

He faltered only slightly before saying.

"Mary will understand. She has to."

"I outrank you, Tom."

"Just get out, God damn it! GO!" Tom shouted. Mohe was somewhat disturbed that Tom would give his life so willingly, but one look at his friend's face told him that there would be no changing his mind. He handed Tom two of his ammunition pouches.

"Good luck, my friend." Mohe said, before running off. Tom aimed and fired, trying to keep Confederate attention away from his friend. He then reloaded, aimed and fired again.

This went on for hours, as this one 18 year old Private in his first battle held off an entire Confederate regiment. He would reload, aim and fire, sending down accurate shots at the bewildered Southerners.

It would not last though.

Tom soon found himself out of ammunition, and soon the Confederates realized it too. They came charging in; just a handful at first, and Tom proved their equal. He drew the long, bone-handled knife that Mohe had gifted him upon completing his training, knocked aside the bayonet of one Confederate and shoving the blade in him. He tripped another, before pushing the blade into him, too.

The remaining Confederates charged forward. Tom held them off for a few more seconds, but he was surrounded. Soon, he felt a blinding pain in his stomach. He looked down to see the tip of a bayonet protruding from his torso. He fell to the ground, feeling darkness envelop him. He desperately tried to stay awake; for his mother, father and sister; for his sweetheart Mary Redmond; for the child she bore. He still had so much life to live.

Then his strength abandoned him. The darkness was far more pronounced now as it began to engulf his entire being. He started to feel cold; as though he had no strength left.

Then his eyes closed.

That night, up on the hills outside of the town, where the Union forces were fortifying themselves, Mohe said a prayer to the Great Spirit to preserve his friend's life; to salvage whatever may be left of his being.

Gettysburg was to be a victory for the North, as two days later, Robert E. Lee at the Army of Northern Virginia retreated from Gettysburg. Two days later, as the 56th Pennsylvania was combing through the town, Mohe came across his friend's body. A grievous bayonet wound had pierced his stomach, but strangely, no maggots had infested his wound. His wound was not infected, and his body had not yet become stiff with rigor mortis, nor was he pale; he still had that same skin tone as he did when he was alive.

Mohe picked up his friend's body and took him to the Colonel. He asked for permission to bury Tom himself. The Colonel agreed, telling Mohe to find a quiet spot to bury the man who saved the regiment. After retrieving his friend's musket and a shovel, he went in search of a private spot, eventually finding a small cave in the hills near the Union defenses. He dug a small grave; he was too tired to dig the full 6 feet. He placed his friend's body inside, laying his musket and bayonet aside him. After another brief prayer to the Great Spirit, he covered his friend's body in dirt, before returning to his regiment.

Over time, Tom's actions would become known to legend as the Last Stand of Thomas Elliott. He was lionized in war stories, passed down through the generations. A stone tablet was erected where he made his last stand.

Nine months later, Mary Redmond, Tom's sweetheart and fiance, gave birth to Thomas Redmond. However, she sunk into a deep depression, and was never quite the same after Tom's death, eventually passing on herself in 1893.

However, myth says that his body was preserved through something not entirely earthly. This story is particularly popular in Native American folklore, yet most have dismissed it as mere stories.

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This one was all GoTfan25966.

So please tell us what you thought. It's only the beginning 😁

- Beth