FADE IN: EXT. CAMP SUMTER, SECTION SEVEN FORMATION GROUND, GEORGIA, 5:04 AM August, 1864. The last heat of summer pressing down before sunrise. A Confederate corporal with a ledger book stands at the head of a column that extends past the edge of the frame. He reads names. After each name, a hand goes up. The corporal marks the ledger. CORPORAL HADLEY Alderman. A hand. Mark. CORPORAL HADLEY (CONT'D) Bard. A hand. Mark. CORPORAL HADLEY (CONT'D) Basset. A hand. Mark. The column of men extends back three hundred yards. The corporal has been reading since four forty two AM. He will read until the column is exhausted. Three names per minute. The camera moves along the column. Faces, worn fabric, ribs visible through open shirts. Every man present. Every hand accounts for itself. At the center of the column: SERGEANT JONAH PIKE (31). Lean, Ohio farm lean rather than starvation lean, though the distinction is narrowing. His jacket has been repaired along both sleeves with dark thread that does not match the fabric. His eyes track the corporal with a specific attention: not the attention of a man listening for his name, but the attention of a man counting something the ledger does not account for. CORPORAL HADLEY Crum. A hand. Mark. Jonah does not look at Crum. He notes the hand. He looks at the dead space between Crum and the next man where a hand should have been yesterday and is not today. 1