Feb 06 , 2026
Alfred B. Hilton gripped the colors in his fading hands, the fabric soaked with the blood of fallen brothers. Around him, chaos spun—a wall of smoke, screams, and death. Each faltering step forward...
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Feb 06 , 2026
Alfred B. Hilton gripped the tattered American colors with shaking hands—blood seeping through the white cloth, crimson mixing with sweat. Bullets hammered the air, screams filled the sultry Charle...
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Feb 06 , 2026
The flag slips from dying hands. Alfred B. Hilton lunges forward, searing smoke choking lungs, the roar of Fort Wagner’s guns in his ears. His uniform soaked in blood—his own, his comrades’. Still,...
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Feb 05 , 2026
Robert J. Patterson stood alone amid the crack and roar—bullets ripping the thinning air, men falling like wheat before the scythe. The regimental colors wavered, nearly lost beneath a hailstorm of...
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Feb 05 , 2026
Bullets tore through the Virginia air like hell’s own rain. Smoke choked the fields around Petersburg, and men screamed through grit and fire. Amidst that chaos, one man stood unbroken. Robert J. P...
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Jan 17 , 2026
Smoke choked the air. Cannon roared like the very gates of hell opening. Amid the chaos, Alfred B. Hilton gripped the colors tight — the ragged stars and stripes, crimson-stained but unyielding. Bu...
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