It's a spring morning in 1860 on the island of Sicily.

On a vine-strewn hillside, an army of 1,000 rebels stands in preparation for a battle.

Leading them is an Italian revolutionary named Giuseppe Garibaldi.

Garibaldi shields his eyes from the blistering sun and peers out across the valley.

In the distance, some 3,000 Neapolitan soldiers marched through the haze, their military coats gray against the yellow hillside.

Garibaldi gives the signal to his troops.

The rebels send a volley of gunfire into the oncoming soldiers.

There's a brief moment as the Neapolitans prepare their artillery.

And then, cannibals thud into the hillsides around Garibaldi and his men,

followed by the crackle and blast of musket fire, echoing throughout the sun-bleached valley.

As the Neapolitans unleashed the full strength of their arsenal, Garibaldi orders his men to hold the line and stand firm.

But they don't listen.

They charge down the hill toward the enemy, their bayonets gleaming,

their red uniforms bright and bold. This was not the plan. Garibaldi orders a trumpet blast

to call the troops back, but his band of rebels again don't listen. These men are volunteers,

not trained soldiers, and they're fighting for something they believe in,

something they believe is worth dying for. As Garibaldi watches them crash into the enemy lines,

he feels equally inspired. So he slings his musket across his chest and unsheaths his sword

and follows his enthusiastic compatriots into battle. The fighting is dogged and fierce.

But despite being outgunned and outmaned,

Garibaldi's red-shirted rebels push the Neopolitan's back to their original position.

But then, the enemy regroups and takes aim.

...