Title: The calm before the storm
Prompt: Historical AU: Harry Welsh in the American Civil War. Supporting characters and/or pairings are up to you.
Name: Duysterwoud (on LJ)
Recipient's name: skew-whiff
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Harry has a lot of time for reflection on the eve of battle.
List of Characters: Harry-centric, with appearances by Kitty, Lewis Nixon, Richard Winters and Captain Haldane (from The Pacific) (sorry, couldn't resist)
AN: English is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me for any mistakes I may have made. Also, I know next to nothing about the American Civil War, so this fic really doesn't go into details.
Night fell over the encampment, and the sounds of daytime activity were replaced by the hush of yet another night spent under the stars. All around him men were succumbing to slumber. He could hear the soft footsteps of the sentries, guarding the perimeter. He heard men cough, grumble and moan in their sleep. The wounded from last week's skirmish were moaning, and crying out as nightmares gripped them. And not for the first time Harry Welsh wondered what in God's name he'd been thinking when he joined the Union army.
Harry Welsh left his hometown on a fine spring morning. He'd been toying around with the idea for some time, but when the call came for more volunteers he made up his mind. Certain things were worth taking a stand for after all.
His mother was waiting for him in their kitchen. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but she wasn't crying. Harry felt relieved; he didn't think his newfound resolve would survive his mother's tears. He kissed her cheek, and grabbed the duffel bag she'd prepared for him. His father wasn't around. They had spoken the previous night, and Harry knew his father wasn't one for teary goodbyes. He went to the kitchen door, turned around to take one more look at his mother's anxious face, and left the house. As he walked the dusty road that would take him out of Wilkes-Barre and to the local regiment of the Union Army he heard a voice call out his name.
It was his next-door neighbor, Kitty Grogan. He turned around to face her. She was wearing a simple cotton dress, and her hair was unbound.
'So,' she said, 'it's really true then? You're actually leaving?' He simply nodded, not trusting his voice not to tremble. She looked oddly resigned.
'Will you write me?' He nodded again, and suddenly wished he had the courage to tell her all the things he should have said a lot earlier. But she was looking at him with a terrible kind of sadness in her eyes, and he was going to war, and maybe silence was the kindest alternative at this point. He turned away again, and started walking. On the outskirts of town he stopped to turn around and look at his home for what might be the last time. Kitty was still standing where he'd left her, her cotton dress fluttering in the breeze. The sun shone behind her, lighting up her hair like a halo, and Harry knew he'd always remember her looking exactly like she did right now.
Harry was jostled from his memories by one of the camp's aides, who was hopping nervously from foot to foot at his side. His mind was still reeling from his trip down memory lane, and he sluggishly realized that the aide, McConnor or McKinnon or something, was still trying to attract his attention.
'What is it?' Harry questioned, wanting desperately to get some sleep.
'Pardon me sir for waking you, but Captain Winters wants you in the command tent, sir.' Harry grunted, and motioned for the aide to be on his way. Nighttime maneuvers and ambushes had taught him early on to sleep with his boots on, so all he did was shrug on his jacket, and then he took off for the command tent. The camp was crowded, and stepping on someone's hand earned him a few choice words, but he managed to make it to the command tent without too many interruptions.
As he opened the tent flap the fire pit behind him threw the three shapes inside the tint into stark relief. Harry was surprised to recognize one of them as Captain Haldane. Whatever this was, it was something big, because Haldane served in an entirely different regiment. The other two shapes quickly revealed themselves to be Captain Winters and Lieutenant Nixon, the latter sipping from his hipflask as usual.
Lieutenant Nixon and Captain Winters were by far the most unlikely pair of friends Harry had ever encountered, and if he hadn't personally witnessed their friendship in the past few months he would never have believed it. Lewis Nixon hailed from New Jersey, and his family could definitely be classified as 'old money'. He was an unapologetic drinker of whiskey, and cynical to a fault. Richard Winters was as bright as his friend was dark. Like Harry, he too hailed from Pennsylvania. Tall and red-headed, he always seemed to exude an aura of quiet confidence, and his inspiring leadership made Harry inordinately glad to serve in his regiment.
The three men were standing around a table covered in maps of the area, and after snapping a quick salute Harry joined them. Captain Winters looked up briefly and smiled.
'Glad you could join us, Harry.'
'Of course. So, what are we looking at?' Winters looked to Nixon.
'Care to explain the situation to Harry, Lew?' Nixon merely smirked before taking the floor. 'Gentlemen, what you're looking at is a map of the area surrounding Gettysburg. Now, as you all know, General Lee of the Confederate Army has been steadily progressing north. This is very upsetting to the noble leaders of our Union, and Major General Meade has decided to put a stop to the advance of the confederates. He has decided to take a stand at Gettysburg, and this regiment has been tasked with holding the town.' Winters decided to take over at that moment.
'What Nix is saying, is that it's up to us to organize this defense, and it's not going to be easy.' That, Harry secretly thought, was an understatement. The Confederate Army's advance had so far remained unchecked, and Harry wasn't sure how much of a difference their regiment could make. His mind flew back to his memories of Kitty, and how she had stood there, with the sunlight glinting off her hair. He wished more than ever that he'd had the courage to tell her how much he loved her. He focused on Winters' voice again with some effort. This was war. There was no place for thoughts of golden-headed girls here.
