Hey, This story might seem familiar to some of you. That is because I decided to rewrite my old story Battle Cry of Freedom. I did this for many reasons, mainly because I was dissatisfied with how I wrote it and where it was going. I plan to keep the same characters, but I will make general changes. Like for example, Seeley's regiment is now the 94th Colored Infantry Regiment instead of the 11th New York Regiment. I'm sorry if you liked Battle Cry of Freedom, but I promise this story will be better.
WARNING: There will be language that can be seen as offensive. Specifically, derogatory terms against African-Americans.
Gate is not owned by me, but I did create the OC's that are present in the story. Their personal beliefs do not represent my own.
The year was 1865, Colonel John Seeley was encamped in the Shenandoah Valley; specifically, in the sleepy town of Maresfield.
He was sat upon a small riverbank, his feet narrowly missing the water. In his hands was a small letter. He had a warm smile plastered on his face as his eyes scanned the words. The calm current of the water, and the small breeze that caused the leaves to fall, was soothing to Seeley. A nice moment of respite.
He neatly folded the letter and tucked it into a small side pocket, as he gazed over the river at the trees on the other side. Their gentle sways bringing back nice memories of his childhood. It was hypnotizing.
He was broken from his trance when he heard footsteps crunching the grass behind him. He looked behind to see Major Jesse Hackley, a good friend and third in command of the regiment. Hackley was an average looking white man, with a groomed mustache and swept-back hair.
"What are ya up to Johnny?" Hackley asked, stepping next to Seeley and taking a seat.
"Just admiring the view. Never been to Virginia before, so I figured I'd do some sightseeing," Seeley replied, looking back to the trees.
"Glad you're getting some rest," Hackley said with a small chuckle. "I just had to stop Graham from pounding some poor man into the ground."
Seeley perked up slightly. "What happened?"
"Well, some dumb bastard was harassing one of our guys cause he's a darkey. Graham overheard this and threatened to jail him for interfering in federal business. it just went downhill from there," Hackley replied, laughing a small bit at the thought. "I love the man, I really do, but all these fights with the locals is only gonna make them hate us more."
"Funny, I didn't think that was possible," Seeley remarked, causing the two to share a laugh. It was true that the townspeople disliked the soldiers stationed there. However, Seeley didn't know if it was because they were Union soldiers, or if it was because a majority of them were black. It was also possible that both were true.
The two soldiers sat in silence, allowing the sounds of nature to come back. It wasn't until Seeley decided to stand up, brushing his pants as he did so, that the silence was broken.
"I suppose I should be heading back to town. You staying here?" Seeley asked.
"I think a few more minutes wouldn't hurt," Hackley responded. Seeley gave a quick nod before walking towards town.
It wasn't a long walk to the town. He just had to go past one of the many large farms that littered the surrounding area. The first place he had to go was the post office.
Seeley stood outside the small post office. On the outside, it looked rather unassuming. However, it was the lifeblood of the town. Not only was it where all the letters went to, but it was also the only place Seeley could communicate with the rest of the Union army, along with the fellow garrisons throughout the valley.
The door creaked open, as Seeley made his presence known with a gentle knock. "Hello? Are you there Mr. Williamson?" Seeley asked as he noticed the postmaster wasn't in his usual spot behind the desk.
"I'll be out front in a moment," a man shouted from the backroom. Seeley waited patiently until an older gentleman with glasses came through a doorway that led to the backroom. "Ah, Mr. Seeley, How may I help you?"
"Just wanted to see if I got any telegraphs or mail," Seeley said. Williamson may have lived in a southern town, but he was friendly to almost anyone who met him, even if they were a black man. This made a close bond between him and the Union soldiers. Plus, no-one wanted to get on the bad side of the man who delivered their mail.
"I ain't got anything yet. However, I sent a telegraph to Fairview a few hours ago, and they still haven't responded," Williamson said, scratching his head in confusion. "An animal must've cut the telegraph wires."
Seeley nodded as Williamson spoke. Fairview was an even smaller town deeper in the valley. The garrison there was only about 500 men strong. That might seem small compared to the 1,000 men in Seeley's regiment, but the only real threat in the valley was the occasional small Confederate raid, and they only came in groups no larger than 100. There was also the chance a disgruntled southerner would get drunk and do something stupid, but with the war essentially over most people knew that the Confederacy was a lost cause.
"Very well, if anything changes you let me, Graham, or Hackley know, got it?"
"I believe so, Mr. Seeley,"
The two men exchanged farewells and Seeley left the post office. The hot Virginia sun and the cool breeze returned. The sun stood directly overhead, making it about midday. He stood in the town square. Seeley was still for a minute, taking in the fresh air. He looked around at the various soldiers of his regiment that stood guard. He couldn't help but feel some sort of pride in them.
The 94th Colored Infantry Regiment was made up of all colored folk, except for himself, Hackley, and Graham. There were even some escaped slaves among them, which most certainly humbled Seeley whenever he thought he had it rough. It was impossible to not respect a man trying to make his own path in life, although some Confederates would beg to differ.
The great thing was that almost everyone would make it home. The regiment was never fully committed to any battles, and they were instead relegated to garrison duty. Not that Seeley cared, it just meant that he'd go home with a relatively uneventful military career.
The peace was shattered, as shouts filled the air. Seeley quickly made his way to investigate. After making a brisk walk out of the town square, he saw a large crowd of people surrounding a man on a horse. It wasn't until Seeley got to the back of the crowd when he understood what the man was yelling.
"Help! Someone Help!" the man screamed, as he barely clung to the horse. He wore basic farmer's clothes, but they were torn and bloodied. His eyes were wild and his hair unkempt.
The small crowd of curious onlookers began to grow around the poor man, as he fell off the horse and onto the road with a thud. Seeley rushed through the crowd, nearly knocking people to the ground. Some Union soldiers did their best to keep the crowd back, as Seeley knelt beside him.
"Are you okay?" Seeley asked with urgency.
The man looked at Seeley and grabbed his blue coat, yanking Seeley closer to him. "Fairview is gone! And you're next if you don't run!"
Seeley pulled himself away from the man, as murmurs began to fill the surrounding crowd.
"What's going on here?" a deep voice yelled. Lieutenant Colonel Arthur Graham moved through the crowd, no more graceful than how Seeley did. Behind him was Major Hackley, who could easily slide through the crowd due to his smaller frame.
Graham was a bear of a man. More than six feet tall and almost 200 pounds with a huge beard. He was Born on the Frontier where he fought against the Natives with a militia.
"Sounds like the Rebs are -" Seeley began to speak but was cut off by the crazed man.
"It ain't the Confederates! I'm telling you it ain't them!" The man began to break down. "It's someone far worse. I don't know who they were, but they just appeared from nowhere. They began to round everybody up and… I think I'm the only one alive," The wounded survivor was now inconsolable, as everyone around stood in shocked silence.
Seeley turned to Hackley "Major Hackley, escort this man to our camp and have him patched up," Hackley recognized the order and quickly helped the survivor up. Seeley then turned to Graham. "Graham, I need you to get everyone gathered at the town hall in an hour. You also need to alert the rest of our regiment," Graham said nothing as he went to do his task.
Seeley looked around at the gathered crowd. "Everyone disperse. I'll figure out what's going, but I need you to return to homes or duties until I call for you!"
The crowd listened, and it slowly withered away until everyone went back to business, with the occasional whisper. Seeley didn't care though, he needed to alert the other garrisons nearby.
Seeley practically burst through the post office door, startling poor Mr. Williamson. Before Williamson could even speak, Seeley blurted out "Mr. Williamson, I have urgent news for the other garrisons. I need you to send a telegraph to all neighboring towns."
Williamson composed himself and replied, "Very well, what would you have me say?"
"Tell them that an unknown enemy has attacked Fairview, and to fortify their towns as soon as possible," Seeley replied.
"I shall get right to it," Williamson said, recognizing the severity of the situation. He swiftly made his way to the backroom, where the only telegraph machine in the town was stored. Seeley waited until he got confirmation from other towns that they got the message. After nearly 20 minutes, all towns reported back, allowing Seeley to finally head to camp to question the survivor.
Hackley stood outside the tent that held the lone survivor. The sobbing that once came from the man went quiet, now reduced to slightly audible sniffling. He was never good in these kinds of situations, so he decided to let the man cry it out; he did lose his family and friends after all.
In the distance, he could see Seeley walking at a brisk pace towards him. He gave a quick thanks to God for getting him away from this awkward situation, and he waited for Seeley to get closer before telling him all he knew, which wasn't much.
"Alright Jesse, did he tell you anything?" Seeley asked.
"The only thing he told me was that whoever attacked the town didn't have any rifles. It seems they used swords and bows." Hackley replied, causing Seeley to grow confused. Who the hell used swords and bows still? The Natives weren't that backward; even they used rifles occasionally, never just bows.
"Alright, I'll see if I can get anything else out of him," Seeley said, preparing himself for a difficult conversation.
Seeley opened the tent flap and saw the lone survivor laying down in a cot. His torn shirt was removed and replaced with a messy combination of bandages and cloth. There was still dried blood on his torso and arms.
Seeley stood to his side, the man looking up at him with puffy cheeks. "I understand you've been through a lot, but I need you to answer some questions for me to assess the situation. Do you understand?" Seeley did his best to speak softly.
"I… I understand," the man replied shakily.
"Great, this won't be long. First things first, how many people were part of this raiding party?" Seeley asked, watching the survivor's face for any sign of discomfort. He didn't want to push the man too far.
"I-I don't know… There must have been nearly 1,000 of them. There was no warning; they just appeared from the forest and went on a rampage," the man's breathing began to grow heavier. Seeley put his hand on the man's shoulder.
"It's okay. We'll keep you safe, but I need to know more," Seeley hated this. The man was distraught, but he'd rather one man be uncomfortable than a whole town be razed.
The man seemed to calm down a little bit, allowing Seeley to continue. "Did these men have anything that stood out, like a specific symbol or clothing style?"
"Yes, they did. They wore metal armor and had a purple flag with a dragon on it," the man replied. This piqued Seeley's curiosity.
"Did they give any hints as to why they attacked?" Seeley asked
"No, I couldn't understand what they were saying," The man replied, picking his brain for more information. "Latin… I think they spoke in Latin."
"Thank you, and I'm sorry for all that you have lost. I'll ensure that justice is brought to these men," Seeley said, taking a mental note of everything he'd just learned. As he went to exit the tent, the survivor spoke up one last time.
"Please… make those bastards pay,"
A large crowd stood out in front of the Town Hall. Almost the whole town attended the emergency address by Seeley. He stood on a raised platform that allowed everyone in attendance to see him. Graham and Hackley stood to the side.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I am declaring a lockdown of the town. Please do not leave your homes until further notice. It is for your safety." Seeley exclaimed to the large crowd.
Whispers and chatter began to flare up and the inevitable questions began to be asked.
"What's it for?" a farmer yelled in a thick southern accent.
"The town of Fairview has been raided, and this town might be next."
A mix of gasps and shocked faces filled the crowd. Then, all of the sudden, a flurry of questions began to be shouted.
"Are we safe?" one lady shouted.
"Can we trust a group of Darkeys to protect us?" an older man yelled.
Seeley's heart began to race. "Everyone please remain calm. I ask that you have faith in me and my men. We shall see to it that no one is harmed."
This did little to appease the crowd. It began to grow more rambunctious, with more yelling and shouting. Seeley simply stood there stressed and confused on what to say to the crowd. He began to lock up, his mind racing with ways to appease them. He started to think he was overreacting; that he was becoming tyrannical for no reason. Eventually, soldiers had to break up the crowd and force everyone to go home for the day.
Seeley sighed as he stood on the stage in a now-empty town square. "I really messed that one up."
"I recommend that we fortify the surrounding farmlands," Graham said, pointing to areas on a map of the town.
"The river acts as a natural defense to North, any attack across there would be suicide," Hackley pointed out.
The three leaders of the 94th stood in a tent and around a table. On the table was a map of the town of Maresfield and the surrounding farmland. It had been only 30 minutes since the town was placed under lockdown, and they had no time to spare.
"That leaves the South, East, and West as places to fortify. But we don't know where they'll show up," Seeley pointed out.
"I have an idea. How about we station a soldier in the church's belltower. That thing is so tall whoever is in it would be able to give an early warning by ringing the bell, Once for the East, Twice for South, thrice for the West, and four times for the North" Graham said.
Seeley and Hackley both agreed to the plan. All three of the officers agreed to oversee the construction of basic fortifications. Seeley would oversee the West, Graham would oversee the South, and Hackley would oversee the East. As soon as the bells went off each officer would rush their troops to the direction indicated. The officers divided their army into four groups, one small group of 100 men to watch the river to the North and the other 900 men evenly divided amongst the other three sides.
Once everything was settled, the regiment was put to work. Soldiers rushed through the town, hurrying to their assigned posts. Seeley, Graham, and Hackley all kept their ears open for the bell, as they began to tell soldiers what and where to fortify.
Time ticked by. The sun began to set behind the mountains of the valley, causing the temperature to slowly drop. The soldiers and officers began to grow tenser; the enemy could attack at any moment. An eerie silence filled the air as darkness began to fill the valley, leaving only strands of sunlight to flicker through the trees. Soldiers stared at the treelines, inspecting every moving bush and every suspected twig snap.
Then the Church bells knelled.
Ding
One ring
Ding
Two rings
Ding
Three rings, then silence.
Seeley couldn't see anything, but he knew the enemy was coming. He held his revolver with a near white knuckle grip. His other hand rested on his officer's sword that was sheathed on his hip.
Suddenly a horn of war sounded and a battle cry thundered as armored soldiers rushed forth in a frenzy. Seeley was taken aback, not only because of the surprise but also because of their archaic appearance. True to the survivor's word, the enemy carried swords and wore heavy armor similar to what the Romans wore. The Union soldiers were caught off guard but quickly recovered.
"Take aim!" Seeley yelled to his soldiers, preparing them to fire a volley at the oncoming horde.
"Fire!" The crackle of gunpowder ripped through the air as hundreds of rifles fired in near-perfect unison.
The first rank of the enemy charge was shattered as limp bodies fell to the ground. Some of them shouted in pain while they instinctively tried to put pressure on their wounds. However, the rest of the enemies remained confident. Their cries of war still filled the air, as they rushed across open ground. The Union soldiers began to reload their rifles.
"Take Aim!" The Union soldiers raised their loaded rifles, prepared for another volley.
"Fire!" Another cacophony of rifles firing and shouts filled the air, as another line of enemies collapsed.
Some Romans slowed in their charge, but the rest continue in an angered blood rush.
Fix bayonets!" Seeley yelled as the Romans came too close to fire another volley. The order then made its way down the line of soldiers. The sound of the bayonets clicking into place filled the air, only drowned out by the heavy footsteps and yells of the enemy charge.
It wasn't long until the Romans reached Seeley and his troops. The fence that was supposed to break the charge, only acted as a small barrier before being knocked down by the weight of the enemy. Now, the enemy was in their comfort zone, being able to slash and dice the Union soldiers with their swords.
The heavy armor of the Romans made stabbing them with a bayonet difficult. Especially when they also had large shields. Now, the screams and shouts came from both sides, as Union men were hacked to death and Romans were pierced.
Seeley shot all six of his revolver bullets before holstering it and switching to his sword. One Roman, in particular, targeted him, assuming he was an officer because of his unique weapons.
The Roman brought down his sword, trying to split Seeley's head into two. Seeley clumsily moved to the side and deflected the blow with his sword; Seeley's inexperience began to show. Seeley tried to make a jab at one of the openings in the Roman's armor, but it was blocked by the man's shield, causing Seeley's blow to glance to the side. The Roman used this as an opportunity to bash him with his shield, knocking him on his back and sending his sword out of reach.
Seeley began to crawl backwards in an attempt to get away from the enemy soldier, but he wasn't fast enough. The enemy raised his sword in preparation for the finishing blow. Seeley closed his eyes and began to pray in his head. Suddenly, Seeley heard the enemy soldier jolt, as he began to choke. Seeley opened his eyes and saw Hackley impaling the Roman with his sword.
"Get up Johnny! You ain't dying on me yet!" Hackley yelled, kicking over Seeley's sword and running to engage another Roman soldier.
Seeley grabbed his sword and got up. He noticed Graham and Hackley's troops had reinforced his lines, turning the tide battle back into their favor. Soon, the Romans began to waver and fall back, falling back became a full-blown retreat, and retreat quickly became a rout.
The Union men let out a hearty cheer as the enemy ran back to the treeline, scurrying like rats. A field of corpses littered the field, with some mortally wounded mixed in. Seeley ordered his troops to bring him any survivors.
"Sir, I got a live one over here!" A black man yelled to Seeley, pointing his bayonet at a man on the ground.
Seeley rushed over to see someone who was no older than 19 on the ground, blood pouring from a bullet hole in his armor. He bore a terrified expression on his face, as he looked up at Seeley. He then began to plead in Latin for mercy.
It was at this moment that Seeley was thankful for his education that taught him Latin.
"Please! Don't kill me. I'll do anything just please let me live!" the young soldier, yelled. Little did he know that being shot in the torso was guaranteed death. No doctor would waste his time trying to dig the Minie ball out; they'd just let infection or blood loss kill them.
"Who are you people and where do you come from?" Seeley asked firmly. His Latin was unrefined but coherent enough to understand.
"I'm from Italica, a city in the Saderan Empire. My name is Lanius," The boy replied, started to cough, a sign that his wounds were mortal.
Seeley was confused. He'd never heard of a place called Italica or the Saderab Empire. Perhaps it was European? "Where is the Saderan Empire?" Seeley asked trying to keep authority in his voice.
"It's across the Gate deeper in the valley," Lanius responded, his face beginning to grow pale. Seeley knew Lanius's time was running short.
"Gate? What do you mean 'the Gate'?" Seeley asked, hoping to get just a little more information.
"A portal between our worlds," the boy's cough grew worse as his body began to shut down. "That's how our army got here."
Seeley couldn't begin to comprehend what he heard. What did he mean by "our worlds?" More importantly, what did he mean by "army?"
As Seeley contemplated these new revelations, he gave one final question. "How many people are in your army?"
"100,000," Lanius replied curtly, as his eyes grew heavier. It was his fingers that went limp first, then his arms, and eventually his heavy breathing slowed to a halt.
Seeley stood there panic-stricken. An army larger than the size of the Army of The Potomac is nearby, and he's just hearing about it now?
"They could be marching towards us right now," Seeley said to himself, starting to run to alert Graham and Hackley. It didn't take long to find them, as they were organizing the clean up of the bodies.
"Graham! Hackley!" Seeley shouted as he ran towards them, causing them to turn around. Seeley stopped in front of them, starting to pant due to exhaustion.
"What is it?" Graham asked, shooting Hackley a confused look.
"We gotta get out of here. There's an army, 100,000 strong, deeper in the valley, and I think they're coming our way," Seeley said between breaths.
"Christ, that means we have to evacuate the town," Hackley thought out loud.
"How hell does an army of that size get into the middle of Virginia?" Graham asked, dumbfounded about the situation.
"I don't know how, okay. But I gotta go tell the other garrisons to evacuate. You guys get started on organizing the retreat," Seeley replied, running off towards the post office before anyone could reply.
He was sprinting full speed, every second counted. As far as he knew, the army could 1 mile away or 40 miles away. It wasn't long until he reached the post office, his legs starting to hurt from exertion and sweat causing his skin to gleam. However, he didn't care, too many lives were on the line.
The door to the Post Office was locked. Seeley tried to look for any sort of hidden key but couldn't find anything. "God dammit," he muttered under his breath, as he steeled himself for a painful entry.
The door was nearly broken off its hinges, as Seeley busted it down with his shoulder. He nearly fell to the ground, but he recovered and ran to the backroom which held the telegraph machine. Soon, the message was sent.
Enemy army in Shenandoah Valley, 100,000 men strong. All garrisons fall back to Winchester in the North.
Brigadier General Kirkland awoke to find himself in an empty and black void. It was devoid of any wind, and it was neither hot nor cold.
"Where the hell am I?" He said to himself, as he looked around.
In front of him was a long and narrow pathway that led up to a doorway connected to nothing. With one last look around he began to walk forward. He began to notice his footsteps made no sound as if they were absorbed directly into the void.
Once he made it about halfway, loud noises of cannons going off filled the air. Soon, images of a younger Kirkland commanding an artillery battery filled the space on each side of the pathway. Images of Mexicans rushing his position only to be blasted by canister shot, the sight of Kirkland taking cover as enemy artillery counter fired, and the one image that stood out the most was was an image of him having a medal pinned to his chest.
Kirkland stood in front of the door now. His inner curiosity fighting against his self-preservation, as he debated whether or not to open it. Eventually, curiosity won, and he opened the door only to be blinded by a bright light.