Chapter 28: We Few, We Happy Few
Well, after nearly two weeks of being too busy to write anything, I've finally managed to find some down time to get another chapter up. Honest, I've been busy! I put up a couple hundred yards of barbed wire fencing, nearly had my hand taken off trying to corral a stallion, I got a disc plow, and put a new floor in the rec room of my house, not to mention the first reenactment of the season (I got shot three times, yaayyy!), so you see why I haven't been able to write much. But ahhh…farm living is the life for me. Anyway, enjoy the latest chapter!
When Zim arrived among the men of General Armistead's Brigade, he found his new comrades eager for the battle they would soon be embroiled in. Then men, like Zim seemed to be contemplating the work to soon be done. Some read from small bibles underneath trees. Others shared pipes or cigars with each other. A few stood silently meditating, looking toward the hill in the distance. To Zim, they all looked to be grizzled veterans of death and killing. He felt again the consequence of his decision weigh on him. He could be killed in this. He could die in this ancient time, and never get home. What then? What about his mission? Zim looked around at the soldiers readying for the coming fight. This was his mission now, and these were his brothers. And he was willing to die for his mission, and for these men.
"Ah, Zim…am I correct?" Asked a familiar voice. Zim turned to see General Armistead.
"Yes sir." Zim said, saluting. Armistead returned the salute solemnly. "Sir, I requested to take part in the coming battle. General Longstreet gave me permission."
"I see…" The general said, nodding. "You're sure you want to be in this? You're staff, son…you could sit it out and no one would think less of you."
"I think…General Armistead…" Zim replied, "…that I would think less of me, sir."
"That I understand." Armistead replied. He sighed. "I wondered whether I could actually do it…" Zim was looking at him questioningly. Armistead smiled tragically. "Three years ago…when this war first started…God, it feels like an eternity…"
"Yes sir." Zim whispered.
"We were at Winfield's house…Winfield Hancock. It was me, Win…Old Albert Johnston, George Pickett, Dick Garnett… a going away party you see." He sighed. "Friends, all of us, off to fight in this war, some of us on each side." He sighed again. "Sorry, son. I just needed to tell someone this."
"It's okay, my general." Zim said.
"Well…it was…heartbreaking for us, at the end. I took Winfield by the shoulders, and I said to him 'Hancock…goodbye. You have no idea what this has cost me, and I pray that I be struck dead before I ever have to fight you, my old friend.' Those words." Zim could see that he was holding back tears. "That was the last I saw him, and I'd hoped that this war would end before we found ourselves looking at each other across the field. Zim, son?"
"Yes sir?"
"He is right over there." Armistead pointed toward the center of the ridge. "And…well. My apologies."
"It's quite alright, General Armistead." Zim replied.
"You um…you don't seem to have any weapons." Zim realized his folly at having forgotten to ask General Longstreet for a rifle.
"No…I…well…" Zim stammered.
"Hm." Armistead thought. "Lieutenant?" A large, barrel-chested man appeared. "Will you please get my spare pistol from my trunk? Make sure it's loaded, and give it to this young man."
"Yes sir." The man replied, and moved off to fetch the gun.
"Zim? I want you to stay near me when we make the charge."
"Yes sir, I will sir." Zim said. Just then a cannon fired some distance away. Another soon followed, then another and another. General Pickett rode up, and General Armistead walked over to speak with him, leaving Zim standing under the old tree. His mind drifted to Dib and Tak. Is it possible? Could they really be on the other side, waiting for him like Hancock and Armistead?
"So…you begged Old Longstreet into letting you climb the insurmountable hill as well, eh?" A voice called. Zim turned to see a tall, skinny man wearing nothing that resembled a soldier's uniform, but carrying a rifle walking toward him. "I don't blame you, I had to do it too."
"Um…who are you?" Zim asked the stranger.
"Ah." The man said, removing his wide brimmed hat and bowing theatrically. "You may call me Harrison, everyone in the army does, though on the stage, I may be Hamlet." He smiled.
"Um…uh-huh…" Zim said to the strange man. "So, you aren't a soldier?"
"A scout." Harrison replied. "Just a humble actor doing my part for my country."
"If you're a scout, why are you doing this?" Zim asked.
"Well, why are you?" Harrison asked. He stood beside Zim and they looked toward the hill a moment. The sound of Confederate artillery continued to roar as the guns hurtled their fiery innards at the enemy. Then a new sound reached their ears. From across the field, there were several dull thuds, and small puffs of smoke could be seen.
"Hmm. We may want to get behind a tree…" Harrison said calmly. A moment later, a shell exploded somewhere off to the left. Another landed fifty yards behind them. Zim remembered the enemy artillery fire the day before, the Hell of flying steel and fire, and he cringed. Harrison clutched his shoulder, and it felt a little better to have someone near. "We few…we happy few…" The actor/scout muttered.
"Eh?" Zim asked. Harrison smiled defiantly at the puffs of smoke in the distance.
"We few, we happy few, we band of brothers." He said louder. "For any man who sheds his blood with me shall be my brother. "
"Yes." Zim said. A shell exploded nearby, but Harrison didn't stop his recitation.
"If we are marked to die, we're now to do our country loss. But if to live, the fewer men, the greater share of honor!"
"Yes!" Zim said, feeling courage build in him.
"Gentlemen of England now abed shall think themselves accursed they were not here, and hold their manhoods cheap whilst any speaks who fought with us upon Saint Crispin's Day!"
"Mr. Harrison," Zim said. "Let's make the charge, and revel in glorious victory on top of that hill."
"I couldn't have put it any better." Harrison replied. "I must be off now. I will see you on the hill." He bowed again, and walked off amid the smoke and concussion of the shells, and Zim hoped that the strange man would survive the charge. The lieutenant returned with the pistol and handed it to Zim before hurrying off. Zim looked at the weapon. It was a fancy revolver with an engraved cylinder. He imagined that it must have cost a good deal of money.
"You know how to use that?" Armistead asked, rejoining Zim. Zim wondered how people kept sneaking up on him like that.
"I've seen it done. I'm sure I can figure it out." The Irken replied, omitting the fact that he'd previously fired weapons light-years ahead of the black powder firearms that surrounded him. The irony was not lost on him however, that no matter how primitive or advanced a weapon, the end result was the same.
"Well, it's a LeMat, so you have 9 shots in the cylinder, and a spare barrel loaded with shot. I trust you will indeed figure it out. Now I have to form up the men, so come with me." Zim obeyed, walking alongside the general as he passed along the front of the line, where several subordinate officers stood at attention. "Gentlemen, form your battalions and prepare to march!" Armistead ordered. The officers immediately set to bringing the soldiers into formation. Armistead took off his hat and wiped his forehead. Zim looked back toward the enemy.
"We few…" He whispered, "We…happy…few…"
The suspense is building terribly, is it not? I wanted to add Harrison into the story, as he was the scout that told Longstreet that the Union forces were near, and was at least partially responsible for the battle being fought where it was. I'm also supposed to be distantly related to him, so I figured I'd give him a cameo. I will try to keep the chapters coming now at a rate of two a week, and I anticipate that within the next 3-4 weeks, this story shall be at a close. But rest assured that the historical fic gravy train is far from derailed after this! I have a Naruto fic based on "The Last Samurai", An Invader Zim fic styled after "The Patriot", and a reenactment of the gunfight at the OK Corral starring the Invader Zim cast planned for the future. Enough babble though, I must work on more chapters, so stay tuned in, and I'll keep posting.
