Chapter 26: Zim's Devotion
After this chapter, I want you my readers to search your own hearts and ask yourself what you would do in the positions of Zim, Dib and Tak. Would you be willing to fight and die for a cause greater than yourself? I think that is why we're drawn to the Civil War. The men who died did so for something more than their own reasons (usually), and in doing elevated themselves unknowingly to the height of what it is to be an American, to be a true hero. Read on, and please review.
Longstreet seemed a little more quiet and somber than usual on the ride back to headquarters. Zim wondered if the broody general still believed that the attack would fail. There were so many cannons, and the men looked so eager to fight. Their fortitude and willingness to fight and die for their leader elevated them in Zim's mind far above any humans he had known before this adventure. They weren't that much different from Zim's race. He looked up at Lee, the tired, kind old man who was a god of war in living flesh and grey wool. No, these were not creatures like Irkens. Irkens fought, but only for more land, for more power. They fought for the expansion of their race's influence. What these men fought for with the same tenacity was something greater, something Zim had never even contemplated before. These were no Irkens, and Zim felt humbled just to be in their presence. He was one of them now, and he knew that if he must, he would die for his fellow soldiers, for his country, for General Lee.
"Then I leave it to you, sir." The old man spoke. Zim looked up as Longstreet nodded. "I believe this battle will determine the course of the war." Again, Longstreet nodded lightly.
"Whatever happens, sir…" Longstreet replied, "…it will determine the course of history." This time, it was Lee who nodded solemnly. Zim felt it too. This battle would be one for the books. It seemed that both armies were here, and this may be the final clash of a great war that Zim had missed out on up to now.
"Sir," General Lee finally said. "God's grace be upon you." With that, he saluted. Longstreet returned the salute, a gesture that was almost a physical seal between the two great commanders that today a great battle would be fought.
"General Lee, sir?" Zim asked.
"Yes, young sir?" He replied.
"My general…" Zim didn't know what to say. He felt choked up. He had to be in the attack, and he didn't know why. "Sir, I ask permission to take part in this attack." There, he'd said it. He wanted a chance to fight with the brave confederate soldiers for his brothers in arms and his adopted country. Admitting it felt like he was now truly one of them. It felt good, better than Zim had ever felt in his life.
"I would prefer you not endanger yourself…" Lee began.
"Sir, please." Zim interrupted. Lee patiently let him talk. "I never knew…I mean…" He sighed. "I would not be able to stand back and watch them fight, sir. This war, this country…it all means so much to me now. I must help them win. If we take that hill, I want to be there, waving your flag on top of it, and if we lose…" He looked at Longstreet a second, and again, the disturbing thought of failure was there. "…then I will go down as a soldier."
"If that is the measure of your conviction," Lee said with a slight but proud smile that made Zim feel even better inside. "Then I cannot deny you your honor." Zim smiled with pleasure. "You may accompany General Longstreet, who will place you in the brigade and regiment where he feels you may serve the best."
"Thank you, my general!" Zim beamed, saluting. "I won't let you down, sir." Lee saluted back.
"I never had that doubt." With that, the general rode off toward the cozy little house. Longstreet watched him leave, then took out a cigar. He bit down on it and lit it with a match. Drawing in a mouthful of smoke, he looked lost in thought for a few moments. He blew out the blue-grey smoke and turned to Zim.
"You really want to fight, son?" He asked.
"Yes sir." Zim replied. Longstreet made a small grunt.
"Come on, I must talk with Colonel Alexander."
"Yes sir." Zim said again. He walked beside Longstreet, who kept his horse at a slow gait, probably for Zim's benefit. They were again among the many big cannons that sat in a long line, deadly metal Cyclops, glowering imposingly across the field. A younger man with a dark brown beard rode up on horseback, and saluted General Longstreet with a grin.
"Hot day, isn't it sir?" The man asked. Zim noticed that his collar was red with three stars upon it, and his grey coat was trimmed in red piping. His cap was also red and grey. Zim deduced that red was the color of artillery.
"Almost like Mexico." Longstreet replied.
"Ah." The man said. "I wasn't there, general, but I will take your word on it."
"You probably were too young to do us any benefit anyhow." Longstreet said with a slight grin.
"Fortunately experience is the real teacher of men and not age, sir." The officer said with a smile. Zim presumed they were making quips about the artillery officer's age. He looked quite a bit younger than Longstreet, who was still young compared to Lee. He was perhaps 25…30?
"I do hope you have plenty of ammunition, colonel." General Longstreet said. So this was Colonel Alexander, the commander of the army's artillery. To be a colonel at his age, he must be good, Zim thought.
"I do, sir. Enough for a sizable offensive, but not much more."
"Well, son…" Longstreet continued. "On my order, I want you to direct your guns there on that ridge. I want every gun here to fire on their positions, and try to remove their artillery from the crest of those hills."
"Yes sir…" Alexander said.
"Then the men will move out of the trees in formation. I want you to keep the enemy suppressed, and give my men time to move across the field…as much time as possible, understood?"
"Yes sir." Alexander replied, looking across the field as if trying to comprehend the scope of the plan.
"Now Porter," Longstreet added. Colonel Alexander looked back at the general, then to his cannons and back to the enemy positions. To Zim, Alexander's eyes seemed to be glowing with a dark fire, and they moved about as if he were taking in everything, the field, the air, even the number of nails in each cannon. "I don't think I have to tell you how important your job is to this attempt."
"No sir, I understand completely." Colonel Alexander replied. "I will try my damndest to move every single enemy gun off of that hill, sir."
"Good. Any questions?"
"No sir." Alexander said. They saluted, and Longstreet rode off, with Zim close beside his commander. They moved back into the shade of the trees, and Longstreet dismounted, handing the reins of his horse to Major Sorrel, who had just ridden up.
"You really want to be in this attack?" Longstreet asked Zim again.
"Yes sir, my general…why?"
"You see that field out there?" Longstreet asked.
"Yes." Zim said.
"In a couple hours, that field is going to be filled with 15,000 men…all moving in perfect formation toward the center of that ridge there." He sighed. "Of course our artillery will be firing as fast as possible, but so will theirs. 15,000 men across nearly a mile of open field, toward cannons, toward probably 5 corps of men with muskets on high ground. It's so clear…painfully, like a nightmare I can't wake up from. "
"Sir?" Zim whispered. Longstreet looked at Zim, and in his eyes was sadness.
"Zim…son, I think this attack is going to fail. And that means that many…too many of the men who will make this charge…won't be coming back."
"I…I know…sir." Zim whispered.
"And you still want to make that charge." It was more of a statement than a question.
"I do." There was a silence.
"Then I will place you with General Armistead. You've met General Armistead."
"Yes sir, I have." Zim replied. "He is the one with the friend on the enemy side, I think."
"Mm." Longstreet answered. "You will be in his brigade."
"Thank you." Zim said. "May I find the general?" Longstreet gave a nod, before turning back toward the hills in the distance. Zim watched him for a moment, then turned and began to walk to where he knew General Pickett's division was positioned. There was a heaviness, an oppressive feeling in the air, and Zim felt it and knew that before this day was out, he would be on that hill, victorious or dead.
Now a word from the author: Hello my loyal readers. The build up is getting intense, is it not? And my inability to post more than once every week or two must be killing you as readers. Those of you who know the real history know exactly what is to be, and that must be like seeing a huge gift under the old Christmas tree, knowing what's probably inside, and not being able to open it for a week or two, eh? Well, I'll do my best to get the next chapters up soon. I have to post at the local library (not very local, it's like 30 minutes away), and planting time is almost here. So somewhere between my Indian crafts business, my livestock, planting my gardens, and the two upcoming reenactments (I just made corporal, company quartermaster, and I'm teaching all the officers and NCO's proper drill, so I'm apparently the D.I. too), I will be writing more of the story you've all come to love. After the completion of this fic, I will be beginning work on my first real published work, a diary-like novel about life as a hardcore Civil War reenactor. Anyway, I've taken up enough of your time, so until next chapter, please stay tuned. Cheerio, my friends. -Doc