Dec 19 , 2025
Robert J. Patterson’s hands trembled for a moment—then gripped the tattered flag tighter. Bullets whipped past like angry hornets, blood soaked the earth at his feet. The regiment’s line broke. Cha...
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Dec 19 , 2025
Robert J. Patterson stood knee-deep in chaos, smoke choking the morning air, the crack of rifles echoing like death’s drum. His regiment was pinned under savage Confederate fire at Fort Fisher, Nor...
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Dec 19 , 2025
The battlefield was a furnace of smoke and blood. Amid the chaos near Fredericksburg’s embattled earthworks, Robert J. Patterson stood unyielding—bullet and bayonet inches away—his regiment falteri...
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Dec 19 , 2025
Blood and smoke choked the air. The line was breaking. Men screamed, rifles cracked, shells tore earth apart. And there he was—Robert J. Patterson—standing tall amid the chaos, the roar of death sp...
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Dec 19 , 2025
Enemies clashed like storms that day. Cannon fire tore the earth. Blood flowed before dawn had even broken. Amidst the chaos, one man stood. Not for glory—but because the line had to hold. Robert J...
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Dec 19 , 2025
Robert J. Patterson stood where angels feared to tread—amidst the withering storm of bullets and death at the Battle of Antietam. The Maryland sun overheated the soil stained with brother’s blood. ...
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