Dec 30 , 2025
Alfred B. Hilton gripped the flagstaff like it was the last anchor to his soul. Bullets ripped through the air, Confederate fire blazing from Fort Wagner’s ramparts. Blood oozed from a mortal wound...
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Dec 30 , 2025
Blood burns in his hands. The banner slips but doesn’t fall. Alfred B. Hilton, flag bearer of the 4th U.S. Colored Infantry, grips that star-spangled standard like it carried the weight of every br...
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Dec 30 , 2025
Alfred B. Hilton gripped the flagpole with a dying strength that defied fate. Around him, chaos churned, fires roared, and brother soldiers faltered. The enemy pressed hard, carving through Union r...
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Dec 30 , 2025
Alfred B. Hilton gripped the colors like a man possessed. The roar of Fort Wagner was hellfire around him. His hands slick with sweat and blood, his chest pierced—but he did not drop the flag. Ever...
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Dec 30 , 2025
Alfred B. Hilton gripped the colors with a soldier’s final breath, blood spilling onto sacred cloth. His body shattered, but his resolve unyielding. Around him, chaos tore the air—cannon fire, scre...
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Dec 30 , 2025
Alfred B. Hilton bore the colors forward with his dying breath. The roar of cannon fire, the crack of rifles, and the screams of men swirling into a chaotic tide—yet there he stood, flag in hand, w...
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