The Surrender

Soldiers from both opposing forces, for the first time since the was began, stood side-by-side to each other. Although, they were no standing there as brothers just yet. They were standing outside of the McLean house, where the two illustrious Generals from the North and South were about to come to terms with a surrender.

The faces of the Union soldiers, showed pride and joy that this day had finally come, while the Southerners had no mutual feelings. This was shameful to them, but many were grateful for the end of this long and tedious war. Some of them feared that they would be arrested and punished for treason after this. They didn't want to be locked away for fighting for what they believed in; it wouldn't be right.

On the front porch of the McLean house, General Robert E. Lee stood there, arms folded behind his back and chin held high, despite what was about to happen. His uniform was in an immaculate condition, without even so much as a speck of mud or dirt on him; Lee had wanted to look formal and presentable for his final defeat.

Surrender had been something that Lee hadn't wanted to do, but on this day, the Union proved to be more than he could handle. All odds were against him, and everything that could have gone wrong did go wrong, and then some. Suddenly, the crowd of soldiers parted, revealing General Ulysses S. Grant.

Unlike Lee, Grant's uniform was anything but immaculate. It was tattered and splattered with mud; a night and day contrast between the two men. But Grant hadn't come to this event to look spick and span. He came to get the job done and put and end to Lee's army.

As far as he was concerned, it wasn't a formal event. There was nothing formal about it. It was the end of a bloody war, so why should the end be any more civilized than what led up to it? The two Generals stood in their places, staring the other down.

A deathly still silence hung in the air, and some soldiers were convinced that even the birds and the rest of nature had silenced herself to watch the stand-off. Grant solemnly closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, began to walk up to the McLean house.

He walked up the steps, one at a time, until he reached where Lee stood on the porch. The two exchanged a look to one another, that many soldiers couldn't determine as whether it was a look of superiority, hatred, or recognition. After another moment of standing there in silence, the two Generals nodded and stepped inside of the house, no longer visible to their soldiers.

The house was nice. There wasn't a spot of dirt or dust anywhere to be found, and everything was organized in a neat fashion. The main living room would be where the agreement would take place. Grant and Lee stepped into the room and took their seats across from each other, only a coffee table separating them.

Grant's expression turned from blank, to one overcome with sadness. "It's been a long time, Robert….How long do you think? Over twenty years?" Grant asked solemnly. General Lee adverted his gaze from his old adversary and said, "I believe so, Ulysses." Unbeknownst to many people, Lee and Grant knew each other.

Many years prior to the Civil War, long before such a thing was even considered, they used to be comrades. The two fought side-by-side in the Mexican-American War. Grant smiled sadly and said with a chuckle, "It's a shame that we have to meet again under such conditions, isn't it, Lee?"

The Confederate General said nothing in response to Grant's rhetorical question. This was the first time since that War then the two had seen the other's face, and neither one of them were sure if time had aged the other, or if it had been the war. Grant then brought up their only encounter in the Mexican-American War and began to reminisce on that time that was so long ago.

Lee, wishing for nothing else but to get this humiliation over with, brought the matter at hand back to attention. He said to Grant, "We have something that needs to be taken care of. Old wartime stories can wait till later." Grant nodded in agreement and handed over a list with his terms of surrender.

Lee looked over them, finding that many of them hadn't changed from when they were exchanging words over letters. The terms were very generous, more generous than the Confederate General could have hoped for. None of his men would be imprisoned or prosecuted for treason against the Union, which was more than acceptable on Lee's part.

He knew that the last thing those soldiers out there wanted, was to finally be freed from the war and be unable to go back to their families that they had left behind. Grant then told Lee, "They will also be able to take home their horses, and we'll supply them with enough rations to get them where they need to go."

Lee was overcome with how generous Grant was being. The Union General could have just as easily gone and said that all of the Confederate soldiers in his army would be thrown in prison or left out here to starve, but no. Grant was showing mercy that on any other day, Lee would have taken as an insult.

But he was grateful for the kindness that was being shown from his old adversary. "So, do you agree to my terms, Robert?" Grant asked while extending out his hand for Lee to shake. Lee, without much hesitation, shook Grant's hand and said, "Gladly, Ulysses."

Papers were signed to record what happened there that day. Once all was said and done, Lee stepped out of the house, finding soldiers' eyes from both sides locked on him. He turned to his own troops, and told them, "Pack your things and go home." A flood of relief washed over them when they realized that they would not be arrested for taking part in the war.

Lee walked down the steps and over to his own horse, climbed up on the saddle, and rode off, following behind his troops as they returned to their camp to gather their belongings. From the porch, Grant watched Lee ride off in defeat, and the Union General sighed with a heavy heart.

He hated to think that the war had turned he and Lee against each other, when they used to be allies not too long ago. As the last Confederate soldier walked away from the McLean house, the Union soldiers began to cheer and celebrate right there. But their celebration was cut short by Grant.

"Stop! There will be no celebrating now. You can wait till later, but not now. This is not the time for such actions," the General said sternly. His men quieted down, returning to a state of professionalism. As Grant stood at the base of the stairs of the McLean house, General Meade joined his side.

He remarked that, "It's finally over, huh, sir?" Grant replied to Meade, "It appears that way, but there are more Confederate forces scattered about in the South. It's true that none of them are as threatening or as challenging as Lee's army was, and I have a feeling that they will slowly begin to crumble away when word of Lee's defeat reaches them."

And Grant couldn't be more right. It wouldn't take more than a month for nearly all of the smaller and weaker Confederate armies to disperse when they realized that the Confederacy's power was fading.

Grant then turned to his remaining troops and told them, "As far as I'm concerned, this war is over for you all. You can all begin to pack your things and return home, or you can choose to join another General's command and carry on throughout what little is left of the war."

Soldiers, elated to hear the words that finally set them free, hurried back to the camp and began to gather their things, more than happy to leave their hardships behind forever.

Shun

Since I had been missing in action for several months, I had no belongings in the camp; anything that was mine, had been lost a long time ago. But regardless, I returned back into the camp, leading my horse by its reigns. Soldiers all around me were cheering and laughing as they stuffed their belongings into their duffle bags.

It was quite obvious that they were more than glad to be leaving now. As I navigated my way through the maze of tents, I accidentally stumbled upon Dan's tent. He had just stepped out of the canvas structure, duffle bag thrown over his shoulder. His eyes glanced in my direction, then locked onto me when his mind registered who I was.

Dan then ran towards me, stopping just in time before he would have flattened me on the ground where I stood. He smiled widely and shook his head. "I still can't believe you're alive, buddy. I was seriously starting to give up and think you were dead. Thank God you didn't though. I don't think I could stand knowing that my best friend died."

I thought I saw a small tear try and work its way out of Dan's eye, but he must have blinked it away before it had the chance to escape. I smiled back and said to him, "Trust me, you're not the only one who's happy that I didn't die. I'm pretty glad about it myself."

Dan laughed then asked me, "So, what exactly happened to you? I could only guess and assume what really was going on." I thought back to the last time that I had seen Dan so I would where to begin. When I remembered, I told him, "I was taken as a prisoner after the Overland Campaign, but shortly after arriving at that hellhole of a Prison Camp, me and another person escaped….Although, I was the only one that got away, but that's beside the point. After that, I wandered around for several months till I found that I had stumbled back into Alice's hometown, where her friends helped get me back to health. Without them, I'm sure I would have died in the woods somewhere."

Dan stared at me in disbelief and said, "Man, if I had been in that situation, I don't think I would have had in me to keep going, much less return to the battlefield. That's real bravery there." I chuckled and told him, "Bravery had nothing to do with it. It was all determination to live and keep a promise."

The two of us began walking around the camp, catching up on what had happened in my absence. At one point, I asked Dan, "So, anything interesting happen that I missed?" Dan scratched the back of his head and thought for a moment. "Nah, not really. Just blew up a couple of Confederate forts and failed miserable several times. You know, the same old stuff." I stared at him for a moment.

"Do I want to know?" I asked, unsure if I wanted to hear the details about when they blew up a fort. Dan laughed nervously and said, "Probably not." As we continued on our walk, I remembered something. I said to Dan, "Oh, yeah. You remember that blue-haired girl that was a friend of Alice's?"

Dan raised one of his eyebrows and said, "Yeah, the one that's really stubborn, right? What about her?" I grinned mischievously and told him, "When I woke up after they found me, she asked a lot of questions about you. She seemed really worried and curious to know whether or not you were okay." Dan tilted his head to the side. "Really?" he said with a bit of eagerness in his voice.

He must have realized this, for he shook his head and tried to play it off. "Yeah, right. I'm starting to think that you might be a compulsive liar," he said with a slight blush showing through his face. I rolled my eyes and told him, "Even I could see that she fancies you. Why, I have no idea."

Dan narrowed his eyes and me and jumped in front of me. "And what do you know about what girls are thinking? You probably still can't tell what they're think, even if they told you," he said and poked my chest with his finger for emphasis. I chuckled and walked around him, waving my hand nonchalantly.

"Maybe I picked up a few more skills while I was away," I said with a grin, knowing that what I said would only rile Dan up more. I continued on walking down the rows of tents, leaving Dan standing back where I left him.

I could hear him ranting and shouting, "You? Skills with women? Don't make me laugh!" He then proceeded to execute a sarcastic laugh for emphasis, but all I did was grin, knowing that my friend was in denial over the truth.

Alice

Something about that morning felt different. There wasn't a heavy air that lingered about, or somber feelings that seemed to permeate through the buildings and reach the people inside. For some reason, everything felt like light and joyous.

I climbed out of my bed and walked over to my room's window, seeing people out in the streets, smiles on their faces. They were embracing total strangers in hugs, and this strange behavior had me confused. What was going on that had brought all of these people together?

I quickly slipped into my dress and hurried downstairs to see if I could find out the source of all of the commotion. I ran out into the streets, watching as people cheered and laughed. I flagged down a little boy that might have been a couple years younger than me.

"Excuse me, but what's going on here?" I asked, pointing to the celebrating people. The young boy's smile grew a bit wider. He told me, "They're all celebrating the fact that General Lee surrendered to General Grant, and that the war is finally coming to an end! Now, my brother will come home soon!"

The boy then ran off, shouting happily, which brought a warmhearted smile to my face. It then occurred to me that if the boy's brother would be coming home from Grant's army soon, then Shun would probably be as well. My eyes widened with this realization and I ran back into my room at the local inn, gathering up my belongings.

Shun had told me that he'd find me after the war, but I didn't want to wait to see him again. If the war really was ending, then I wanted to see him as soon as possible to really be sure that it was all over. Shun, a long time ago when we first met, mentioned that he lived in New York.

So, odds were, that he'd eventually make his way back there, right? I ran back downstairs and told the innkeeper that I was now leaving. She waved goodbye to me as I left. I ran outside into the streets, making my way past still-celebrating people, and hurried to the nearest train station. When I reached my destination, I told the train conductor that I'd like the next ride to New York.

Assassination

The theater was packed with spectators, but none was more profound a one that the President himself; Abraham Lincoln. He was there in one of the top balconies of Ford's Theater, waiting to take in the play called My American Cousin. It had gotten many positive reviews, and the President was a rather die-hard fan of the theatrical performances put on at this theater.

But sadly, this wouldn't be a normal play, for it would be Lincoln's last. A shady man, whose one goal was to cause harm that night, snuck in through the theater without being detected. He should have run into some resistance as he snaked his way up to Lincoln's balcony, but by a sick twist of fate, the guard had stepped out to get a better view of the play, leaving the President unguarded and wide open.

This man, John Wilkes Booth, knew every square inch of Ford's Theater, for he had spent quite some time there as well taking in plays and sometimes even performing in them. He had a home field advantage. Booth finally came upon the door to Lincoln's balcony, knowing that his target was on the other side.

He took in several deep breaths, knowing that he was about to go down in the history books in bloody infamy. But he was doing this in the name of the great Confederacy that was beginning to fall, and there was no turning back. He grabbed onto the doorknob and flung the door open.

Lincoln and his wife, Mary Todd, jumped up as the slamming of the door startled them. Booth, acting quickly, put a bullet into the President's chest, then jumped off the balcony, grabbing onto the decorative drapes as he fell down to the stage, where he injured his ankle.

He winced in pain, but fought through it and ran off. The people in the audience first thought that this was part of the play's theatrics, so nobody immediately began to panic. But upon hearing Mary Todd's frantic cries for help and wails of sadness, people began to look up and saw that their President had been shot.

People began to flood out of the theater in fear of their owns lives, screaming that Lincoln had been assassinated, which spread the panic far and wide. Security quickly stepped in and hurried Lincoln to receive medical help, for he hadn't succumbed to his wounds.

Once Lincoln was taken to a hospital, surgery immediately went into play to try and remove the bullet, which had been a bad idea. Doctors were sticking their hands into the wound, desperately searching for the bullet, and only caused more damage as their unclean appendages allowed infection to build up in the President's body.

As Lincoln lay there, slowly dying at the hands of the best that medicine could offer him, Mary Todd was by his bedside, crying and praying for her husband's survival, which would never happen. Lincoln died, becoming the first president to be assassinated, and left a country shaken to its core with fear and grief, for their leader had been killed.


i just realized some really bad irony. i just wrote about the assassination of a president while Obama was being inaugurated. o.o -laughs nervously- that was not intended at all. read, review, and other things. ~Copperpelt~