The two lines were close, close enough for Taylor to see the faces of the men as their looks of determination changed to expressions of agony when the minie balls smashed into them whenever they tried to charge up from their positions in the trenches.  If he had ever been able to feel sympathy for them, however, the ability was long dead and buried.  He was clinging to life as dearly as he could, and he was doing what he must do to survive.  Sympathy be damned.

      Finally, after an eternity, the charges stopped.  It seemed ominously quiet to Taylor as the guns fell silent for the first time in so many hours.  Tension hung heavily over the lines, as thick as the smoke from the rifle fire.  John broke the silence.

      “Do you think they've quit?” he asked.

      Taylor looked over at him.  He was dirty.  No, he was more than dirty, Taylor thought.  He was filthy.  Black powder stained his face and hands.  Mud stains covered his clothes from the days of rain they had just endured.  His hair and beard were getting long and scraggly, but his eyes were still clear and bright.  His eyes spoke of an indomitable spirit that was determined to succeed even in the face of these insurmountable odds.

      “No, John,” Taylor answered with a smile, “they'll be back.  They're just catching their breath.”

      Taylor walked over to John and put his hand on his shoulder.

      “Are you okay?” he asked.

      “Me?” said John, shrugging his shoulders, “sure.  This killing gets easier all the time, you know.”

      John's eyes looked sad as he said this, but Taylor knew he was telling the truth.

      “You know, John,” Taylor said quietly, almost sadly.  “If they keep coming at us, there will come a point at which we won't be able to hold this line any longer.  It's inevitable.”

      “You get that feeling too, eh,” John replied seriously.

      “It would take a fool not to see it,” Taylor responded.  “There's too many of them.”

      “So, what then?” John asked, still serious.

      “I don't know.  But I have to wonder if maybe surrender isn't better at a time like this.  I don't mean right now, but if it gets to that point when it's hopeless.”

      John didn't say anything.  Taylor could see he wasn't impressed with the possibility of surrender.  He continued speaking.

      “I have to wonder if it doesn't get to a point where it's really senseless to give your life for a hopeless cause.”

      John stood silently for a moment, then he spoke solemnly.

      “I have always believed, and I still do, that every man who ever lost his life in this war lost it senselessly, hopelessly.  But it has gone beyond the point of trying to be rational about it for me, Taylor.  As long as one man carries a rifle in this Army trying to defend my land, I too will carry one.”

      “I'll be with you,” said Taylor, forcing up a smile as he spoke.

      He turned and started to walk back to his position, but John stopped him.

      “Don't do it for me,” said John.  “That's not a good enough reason.  I'm not that good of a brother-in-law.”

      Taylor turned and smiled at him again.

      “You're wrong, John,” he replied solemnly.  “This war has gone on too long now.  There was meaning in it for me once, but that's gone, or at least it's in its death throes.  I don't know when we'll call it quits and lay down our arms.  Days, weeks, a month at the most, and it will be over.  But for me the battle to preserve the South is already over.  We've lost.  But if you still need to fight, then I'll fight with you.  You're my friend and I'll stand by you until the end.  I've fought all these past years for reasons not nearly as good as that.”