FN Top News｜弗雷德里克斯堡的战场仍在诉说。我祈祷美国能听见自由的回响

我已徒步穿越这个伟大的国家数月之久。步行之美在于——你能留意沿途的细节，与陌生人交谈，有时仅仅是呼吸当地的空气，就能让每个地方鲜活起来。当我进入弗吉尼亚州的弗雷德里克斯堡时，曾迫切想走过美国一些最具历史意义的战场——直到前路变得异常艰难。连续数日无休止的行走后，医生诊断我的脚跟患有化脓性肉芽肿（一种医学上对增生物的称谓）。伤口在流血、在抽痛，但我知道，与这些战场上曾发生的苦难相比，我感受到的短暂疼痛微不足道。

弗雷德里克斯堡曾是南北战争中的血腥屠场，联邦士兵们迎着邦联军队的炮火冲锋，最终献出了生命。斯波特瑟尔韦尼亚、钱瑟勒斯维尔和荒野战场——这里的土地浸透了那些为自由甘愿赴死之人的鲜血。我行走时脚跟隐隐作痛，但与那些士兵——和我一样的普通人——所承受的痛苦与死亡相比，这点疼痛微不足道。正是他们的牺牲，才让后来者能怀着希望而非镣铐的枷锁，行走在这同一条道路上。

我行走不仅是为了自己，更是为了那些仍需要相信机遇值得奋斗的孩子们。他们中的许多人被学校和父母辜负，对自己之前的历史一无所知。

一位叫住我的陌生人指着附近的田野告诉我，逃亡的奴隶们曾秘密跋涉过这些小路，为自由赌上一切。他们常在夜间赤足前行，依靠陌生人的善意庇护。

当我漫步于弗雷德里克斯堡战场遗址，阅读着铭牌文字，瞻仰着纪念碑文，那些为美国而战的勇士们的英勇事迹历历在目。这让我深刻认识到：自由从来都不是免费的馈赠。与先辈们不同，我们无需为自由浴血奋战、赌上性命——正因如此，我们更应审慎行事，竭尽所能捍卫这份自由。绝不能让自由的火炬在我们手中熄灭，我们必须将其代代相传。

我在长椅上坐了几分钟，让脚休息一下。这时一位名叫本（Ben）的男子走了过来。他来自南卡罗来纳州，问我是否听说过新市场高地战役。我表示未曾耳闻。他告诉我，战场位于此处以东约两小时车程的地方——1864年9月29日，由前奴隶组成的美国有色人种部队曾在那里突袭了南部邦联的防御工事。

此次佯攻行动由联邦少将本杰明·F·巴特勒策划，并在尤利西斯·S·格兰特中将的总体指挥下展开，旨在牵制南方联盟军对彼得斯堡围城的增援，并削弱罗伯特·E·李将军在联盟首都周边的防御力量。

本解释道，巴特勒坚信黑人士兵的能力，尤其在那年夏天灾难性的火山口战役后——由于白人指挥官指挥不力导致黑人部队损失惨重——他将这些曾经的奴隶安置在最前线以证明他们的勇气。在进攻前的动人时刻，巴特勒骑马穿行于各团之间，命令士兵们高喊“记住皮洛堡！”发起冲锋，以此唤起1864年田纳西州邦联军队对投降的黑人联邦士兵实施残酷屠杀的记忆。他们面对的是约8700名邦联士兵，包括约翰·格雷格准将麾下经验丰富的得克萨斯旅，这些部队沿着一道曾击退联邦军多次进攻的防线固守。

战斗当天凌晨5点30分，他们迎着猛烈炮火与步枪射击，穿越险峻地形向上冲锋，最初几分钟便伤亡逾200人。随着白人军官相继倒下，黑人士兵接过了指挥权。他们从阵亡者手中抓起团旗，继续冲向火线。最终在上午8时，黑人部队冲上山顶，击溃南方邦联军并占领了制高点。

十四名黑人士兵因在此役中的英勇表现被授予荣誉勋章——这是单场战役中授予黑人军人的最高纪录，也几乎是整个战争期间颁发给黑人部队的全部勋章。本停顿了一下。他说，目睹那片染血的战场，看到昨日还是奴隶的人们如今为自由献出生命，生者无不潸然泪下。

我不得不去想象这样的场景：这些昨日还是奴隶的人，刚刚尝到自由的滋味，就甘愿为之赴死。他们的力量与信念何其伟大？还有什么使命比这更高尚？这些人浴血奋战，为所有人争取自由。

今天我选择步行，因为我目睹了太多人挥霍这份馈赠。我起身与本长久相拥以示感谢。这位陌生人给予了我一份礼物。此前我从未听说过这些士兵的事迹，而今我决心让他们的英勇成为我们所有人的一课。

当我继续前行时，脚跟的疼痛已被抛诸脑后。此刻充盈心间的，唯有自由这份馈赠何其珍贵。

但这并非故事的终结——而是抗争的开端。

在我们这个时代，争取自由的斗争不再依靠滑膛枪或刺刀，而是通过选票、书籍和无畏的信念。敌人不在山脊对面，也不在山丘之上——它就在镜中，存在于那种让学校衰败、家庭破碎、孩子们心中希望消逝的自满情绪里。

我将继续前行，一步一个脚印。不是因为前路平坦，而是因为事业正义。因为每个被遗忘街区的孩子，都应当知道波瓦坦·贝蒂、克里斯蒂安·弗利特伍德和迈尔斯·詹姆斯的名字——这些勇士用勇气、牺牲与信念证明：自由从非恩赐，而是靠夺取。

愿他们在那座山丘上的胜利成为我们今日的誓言：我们绝不会让自由在我们手中消亡。

Ive been walking across this great nation for months now. There is something beautiful about walking you notice details along the road, you have conversations with strangers, and sometimes its just breathing the air that makes each place come alive. As I headed into Fredericksburg, Virginia, I was eager to walk across some of Americas most historic battlefields until the road got a whole lot harder. A doctor diagnosed a pyogenic granuloma a medical term for a growth on my heel after days of endless walking.Its bleeding, its throbbing, but I know the temporary pain I feel is nothing compared to the suffering of the past that has taken place on these battlefields.

Fredericksburg was a slaughter pen during the Civil War, where Union soldiers charged into Confederate fire and paid the ultimate price. Spotsylvania, Chancellorsville and the Wilderness the soil here is soaked with the sacrifice of men who believed freedom was worth dying for. My heel throbs as I walk, and I think of how insignificant it is compared to the pain and death endured by those soldiers -- men like me C so that others could walk these same roads in hope, not in chains.

I'm walking not just for myself, but for a generation of kids who still need to believe that opportunity is worth fighting for. Many of them have been failed by their schools and parents, and they have no idea of the history that came before them.

A stranger who stopped me pointed to nearby fields and told me that runaway slaves trudged through those paths in secret, risking everything for freedom. They traveled by night, often barefoot, and depended on the kindness of strangers.

As I walked through the Fredericksburg Battlefield, I read signs and visited monuments detailing the bravery of those who fought for America. It grounds the reality that freedom is not free. We didnt have to fight and put our lives on the line for freedom as those who came before us did. That is why it is all the more prudent and necessary that we do everything in our power to preserve freedom. We cannot allow freedom to die in our time -- we must pass it along.

I sat on a bench to rest my foot for several minutes. A man named Ben came up to me. He was from South Carolina and asked if Id ever heard of the Battle of New Market Heights. I hadnt. He told me it was a battlefield about two hours east of here where former slaves, now United States Colored Troops, stormed Confederate fortifications on September 29, 1864.

They were part of a diversionary offensive orchestrated by Union Major General Benjamin F. Butler under the broader direction of Lt. Gen. Ulysses S. Grant . The aim was to draw Confederate reinforcements away from the besieged city of Petersburg and weaken General Robert E. Lees defenses around the Confederate capital.

Ben explained that Butler, a staunch believer in the capabilities of the Black soldiers, placed these former slaves at the forefront to prove their mettle especially after the disastrous Crater assault earlier that summer, where Black troops had suffered due to poor White leadership. In a poignant moment before the advance, Butler rode among the regiments and instructed them to charge with the cry "Remember Fort Pillow!" invoking the brutal 1864 massacre of surrendering Black Union soldiers by Confederate forces in Tennessee. Facing them were roughly 8,700 Confederates, including the veteran Texas Brigade under Brig. Gen. John Gregg, entrenched along a line that had repelled previous Union attacks.

On the day of the battle, at 5:30 a.m., they charged uphill through unforgiving terrain into withering artillery and musket fire over 200 casualties in the first minutes. As White officers fell, Black soldiers seized command. They grabbed the regimental colors from the dead and continued the charge into the fire. Finally, at 8 a.m., the Black troops surged over the hill, routing the Confederates and capturing the heights.

Fourteen Black soldiers received the Medal of Honor for their valor in this battle the most ever awarded to Blacks in a single engagement, and nearly all the medals given to Black troops during the entire war. Ben paused. He said the sight of that bloodied field, of men who had been slaves only yesterday now dying for freedom, moved the living to tears.

I had to imagine it. The strength and faith of these men who were slaves only yesterday and were willing to fight to the death for a freedom theyd only just tasted. What higher calling is there? These men fought to bring freedom to us all.

Im walking today because Ive seen far too many who have squandered this gift. I got up and thanked Ben with a long hug. He, a stranger, gave me a gift. I had never heard of these soldiers, and now I am determined to let their heroism be a lesson to us all.

As I resumed my walk, I forgot about the pain in my heel. All I could think of was what a gift freedom truly is.

But this is not the end of the story its the beginning of the fight.

In our time, the battle for freedom is not with muskets or bayonets, but with ballots, books, and bold faith. The enemy is not across a ridge or up a hill its in the mirror, in the complacency that lets schools fail, families fracture, and hope fade in the hearts of our children.

I will keep walking. One step at a time. Not because the road is easy, but because the cause is just. Because every child in every forgotten neighborhood deserves to know the names of Powhatan Beaty, Christian Fleetwood and Miles James men who proved that freedom is not given, it is taken by courage, by sacrifice, by faith.

Let their victory on that hill become our vow today: We will not let freedom die on our watch.