Edward McVey threw back a swig from his canteen and swooshed it in his mouth. He looked up through a clearing and back down where the sun rays lit up disparate spots on his fellow soldiers and the ground. They enjoyed the shade that all the trees provided on a hill known as Little Round Top. His unit, the 20^th Maine Infantry Regiment, found themselves present on the second day of a great battle near Gettysburg, Pennsylvania during the Civil War.

Most of the men sat as they had marched all night and day to reach their assigned spot. Quite a few consumed their ration of hard tack and salted pork while a few stole a quick nap, and one or two checked and double-checked their ammunition.

Edward saw the old man, as they called him, sitting with his back to a tree and sharpening his bayonet.

“Hey, there, old feller. I never had nobody tell me to sharpen my bayonet.” Edward said. “Just my sergeant saying I’d never need it.”

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