At Gettysburg, I participated in what would later be known as Pickett’s Charge. I stepped out with those men for the attack but a detonating shell knocked me unconscious.

I awoke in the hazy smoke of battle, watching our battle lines advance upon the Union positions. Rifle fire dropped dozens of men at a time, cannon fire blew gaps into the ranks, and they still advanced. The Union artillery loaded up double canister shot and cut an entire line of men down with one volley.

Many of our wounded were getting back up and stumbling towards the fight. It was horrifying to see men so insane with the fevers of battle. One man was steadily advancing just behind his unit, despite missing an arm. Another man was ripped in two just below the waist, yet crawled forward against the Yankees. The crazed, wounded men reached the front and attacked anyone within reach. It was chaos. Surely a hallucination.

I passed out again, but later realized that those madmen attacking both sides indiscriminately were not illusions.