June 29th, 1863
25 miles from Gettysburg, Twentieth Main encampment, under the command of Colonel Joshua Chamberlain
Early morning
Despite the earliness of the morning, the air was still warm and heavy with heat. Margaret, dressed in her dark blue uniform and armed to the teeth, moved through the heavy darkness towards the Twentieth Maine encampment.
Oh, how she longed for the cool summers and frigid cold of Maine. Summers in the south were downright tropical and winter…. well, that was virtually nonexistent.
Her horse's hooves clopped through the grass, going at a semi-relaxed pace. The encampment wasn't too far from where she was and she had been riding for a good three days. Henry was supposed to have already made contact with General Longstreet and his division by now, which meant that if he wasn't executed on the spot, Lord willing, then there was a good chance that he would be able to start his convincing the good general to not go through with the invasion of the north. Margaret would have to convince the Twentieth Maine commanding officer, now Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, to halt the offensive or delay it significantly in order to bring about a temporary peace.
It seemed that Margaret had her work cut out for her.
Wiping the sweat from her brow, Margaret pulled her horse to a stop. In the brightening day, she saw little field mice dart to and fro, as well as hawks and other birds of prey circling overhead. Even with the rapidly growing light of the day, there was still quite a bit of darkness that hung over her. Lowering her eyesight, Margaret dipped into her Eagle Vision and, with relief, spotted the Federal Encampment not a few yards ahead. Reinvigorated, the woman spurred her horse forward, riding as fast a minute ball. She stopped just in front of a few guards, each of them holding up their rifles defensively.
"Hold there stranger." One of the younger looking men declared. "Pass please."
"My name is Margaret Everts. I'm looking for Buster Kilrain."
"Pass please."
"I have a letter." She pulled out the letter from where it rested in her breast pocket. She handed it to the men, who read a couple of sentences in the lowlight. It was a letter from Buster, saying in coded words that she was allowed to come to the encampment to fulfill her mission, as well as where to find it. Margaret knew that the person carrying it was an undercover Assassin, so she took comfort in the fact that it was at least in safe hands during delivery.
The man read it before turning his eyes up to her. Gesturing with his rifle, he ordered, "Dismount please."
Margaret did so. Her pistols were strapped to both sides of her hips, a precaution that her father had drilled into her mind. The soldiers took in the sight before them with apprehension.
"Follow me."
Two men separated from the guard post and guided her into the camp. Margaret flipped her hood over her head as she entered, lowering her head down a bit while her eyes lifted upward. Rows of white canvas tents stood stark against the shining green grass and the pastel blue sky. The sun was now fully in the sky, slowly but steadily climbing as high as it can go. The heat rose with it.
They stopped in front of a tent whose flaps were tied tightly together. They stood there for a moment before a short, slightly stout man walked out the tent, squinting in the sunlight. Margaret brightened up, a smile on her face when the two made eye contact.
"Well, if it ain't lil' Maggie!" Buster Kilrain exclaimed.
"Buster!" Margaret made to move forward, but was halted by the men. She glared at them. Buster sighed.
"'S'alright boys. Lil' Maggie ain't gonna hurt anyone that don't harm her. You can return to your posts."
The men snapped a salute before scuttling off. Margaret relaxed, returning her gaze to her old family friend, the two embracing before too long.
"Argh, it's good to see ya, lass. How's the family?" Buster asked once they separated.
"From what I can tell, they're doing fine as they can be." Margaret's eyes drifted over the sea of tents. The tent flap to the tent they were standing in front of opened once more, to reveal a tall man with a long blonde mustache flapping over his lips. He was in the middle of buttoning up his uniform when he stopped and spotted Margaret standing there with Buster. His eyebrows furrowed together.
"Buster. Who's your friend?"
"Sir, this is Mrs. Margaret Abigail Lealan, an old friend of mine. And Maggie, this is Colonel Chamberlain, of the Twentieth Maine, recently promoted to command."
The two shook hands, with 'pleasure's all mine' being exchanged. Colonel Chamberlain's brow furrowed even more when she spoke.
"Where you hail from, Mrs. Lealan?"
Margaret laughed. "Please, you can call me Margaret. And my family hails from Maine, sir. Much like yourself, it seems. Though my direct family currently lives in Griffin Rock."
"Oh? And, uh, what brings a sensible Maine woman such as yourself all the way out here?"
Her face grew somber as she said, "Colonel, I am intertwined with a group of people that operate from the shadows. While I can't tell you their names, I can tell you that your and troops will be headed towards disaster. My brother is with a Confederate division right now, trying to talk them out of it, but it will also take you refusing to take part to end this."
Both Kilrain and Chamberlain looked at her like she was raving mad. Her cheeks turned red as she sighed.
"Look, I know I sound insane, but this war needs to end. Right here, right now. And the only way that that can happen is if both sides agree to a truce, or at least a ceasefire."
"Well, uh, I apologize but I can't ignore my orders." Someone called the Colonel's name. His eyes flickered over to the man that was approaching him. "If you'll excuse me. Darn it Tom! Don't call me 'Lawrence'!"
Margaret sighed as she was left alone with Buster. "How badly did I mess up?"
"I'll say this, mah dearie: they shoulda sent ya father down."
"That bad huh?" She blew out a puff of air. "I don't get it, Buster. These men have seen so much death. You would think that they would be ready to have it all end."
"Aye, but it's more than a war that we're fightin', Maggie." Kilrain said with a wink. Margaret sighed as she nodded, realizing her mistake. She was about to open her mouth to speak, when a large group moving toward them caught her eye.
"Buster?"
"Oh…. I see them, Maggie." He turned towards her, a twinkle in his eye. "Our guests have finally arrived."
Buster moved off with Margaret in tow. She was curious about what was going on, since she only just arrived at the camp, so she followed. The men that were coming in were filthy, their uniforms ragged. They were clearly Federal troops but the group, a hundred and twenty men or so, was surrounded by armed men. Not one of them, it seemed had a weapon of any sorts.
She caught up to Buster.
"What's going on?"
"Picked a right time to come, dearie. These men, well they're from the Second Maine. You see, when the Second Maine had disbanded, everyone was sent home but these one hundred and twenty men that are comin' down the way. They had foolishly signed on for three years, so they have one year left to go. Only they thought they was singing up to fight with the Second Maine and the Second Maine only. So, they…. quit."
Margaret's eyes went wide at the thought. One hundred and twenty men just up and quit? She couldn't imagine that went well.
"No one knows what to do with these poor fellers. No one wants to send them home, don't know where to put'em. 'Till they thought of us, that is, the only other Maine regiment in the army. And, uh, they've given the Colonel permission to shoot anyone that doesn't listen."
"Shoot them?" Margaret repeated, so aghast at the order that she stopped in her tracks for a moment.
"Aye." Buster confirmed.
"But…." Margaret's brain stopped working.
Shoot them? For God's Sake, bloody shooting these men from Maine, the same place that the Colonel had come from? What in the name of the First Civilization were these folks up in Washington thinking, deciding who lives and who dies because a simple misunderstanding?
A saying that her grandfather used to say flittered into her mind.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph, preserve us, Margaret thought as she caught up with Buster. The Colonel had engaged in a conversation with a captain, who obviously didn't think highly of Maine.
The two of them had just approached within earshot in time to hear the captain declare, loudly, "If you wanna shoot'em, you go right ahead. Won't nobody say nothin'."
Margaret's blood boiled with anger but she shoved it down. Colonel Chamberlain seemed to have everything under control. She didn't hear his reply but the from the way that the captain moved off, glumly and with no small amount of entitlement, he was thoroughly put in his place. He moved forward to the men, talking to them with civility that she guessed they hadn't seen in a while. The Colonel talked to them about getting something to eat, which caught all the attention of all the men. One of them, a scarred looking man, a very tired looking man, stated that the men had grievances and that they had elected him to speak for them.
The colonel gestured for him to follow, while directed everyone else to a tree. Margaret's eyes darting to the brunet man that was standing right behind the Colonel, her eyes drawn to the little markings that dubbed him Lieutenant. It seemed that her presence had gone unaware to him, as he marched past her and Buster toward a communal area that was covered by a tent. Buster said that he was going to go and make sure the men were doing alright before excusing himself. Margaret, without anything else to do, moved to follow the Colonel.
"Gosh, Lawrence," a brunet man was saying. Margaret was a little taken aback by the informality between the two.
"Smile," the Colonel ordered, with forced cheeriness. "Are they moving?"
Margaret threw a glance over her shoulder and answered, just as softly, "Yes sir."
Finally, the brunet noticed her. "Who's this?"
"Margaret Lealan. At your service, Lieutenant."
"Mrs. Lealan, this is my brother Thomas." The colonel reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a booklet and handed it Tom. "Read this. It's Casey's Manual of Infantry Tactics. You may make a soldier one day."
Margaret moved to the outskirts of the common area, following the younger Chamberlain closely, thinking that it would be better for the Colonel and the prisoner to have some privacy. She found him thumbing through a couple of pages of the manual, his eyes scanning at the snatches of words that he could see. She doubted any of them were processing though.
She called his name.
"Ah, Mrs. Lealan." He removed his hat and bowed, a true show of gentleman-ship. Something that always made her smile when Lionel….
The lieutenant was talking. "-an I do for you, ma'am?"
"Oh. I'm looking for someone. My husband. Do you know what unit he's with and where?"
"Mmmm, not sure if I recall someone named Lealan in this division."
"Would you mind asking around? I haven't had word from him in quite a while and I fear the worst has happened."
"Yes ma'am, I'll look into it." Tom said. Margaret smiled her thanks before turning back to face the common area. The Colonel had finished up with his little conversation with the man, and was lingering, hesitating. Buster arrived back, this time with a piece of paper in his hand. The Irishman gave her a small nod before handing the piece of paper to the Colonel, bringing him out of his stupor.
Margaret jerked her head, "Looks like you have your orders."
Tom nodded. "Yes ma'am."
His eyes drifted towards the Maine men who sat in the small glade. Margaret followed his gaze, a weight settling in her chest as she realized what he was so worried about. A lower-level soldier approached them and exchanged some words with Tom, who nodded and made his way towards the tent. Margaret, with nothing else to do and feeling a little uncomfortable, followed behind Thomas, who saluted to his brother.
"The men from the Second Maine are being fed, sir."
"Don't call me sir."
"Well, Lawrence, Great God A-Mighty-"
"You just be careful of that name business in front of the men." Margaret watched as Chamberlain took his brother by the shoulder, so that they were eye to eye. "Listen, we don't want anybody to think there's favoritism."
"But General Meade has his son as his adjutant!"
"That's different. Generals can do anything. Nothing quite like God on earth as a general on the battlefield."
Margaret ducked her head to hide the smirk that threatened her face. Her eyes followed those of the colonel, and it was almost like she could read his thoughts. "What are you going to do, Colonel? With the men?"
"God, Lawrence!" Tom proclaimed. "You shoot them, you can never go back to Maine."
"I know." The Colonel muttered; his eyes still fixed on the men in front of them. "I wonder if they know that. Tom, go ahead and get everyone packing up. We'll be moving out shortly."
The younger man nodded before dashing out of the tent. Margaret eyes went to Buster as, once again, the Colonel walked out of the tent and towards the common area.
"You're gonna want'n' see this." He said knowingly. Margaret sighed as she followed her old friend out. She paused at the edge of the group, her eyes scanning each and every slack face in the crowd. They were tired, on the edge of breaking, but they weren't going to any soon. Buster stopped right next to her; his eyes fixed on the Colonel.
The speech the man gave was moving to say the least. The emotions, the wording, the strength and confidence of his voice…...all stirred feelings inside of her of pride and sense of duty to be done. She glanced at the boys, the same emotions she felt reflecting on their weary faces. When the Colonel was finished, everyone solemnly moved.
"Now there's a man who would be a fine Assassin."
"Oh aye, but I donna think he has a mind for politics."
"Mmmm." Margaret hummed. "So…. Mind if I ride along?"
"Not'ta'all lass. Always could use the extra company." Buster glanced around, then, leaning forward, whispered conspiratorially, "Do you think you could get the Colonel to ride his horse?"
"I'm…sorry?
Buster sighed, "Well, the Colonel's been down with the heat. And it's gonna be a hot day. He needs to ride the horse, that the Good Lord provided, and that Colonel is as stubborn as an ass."
"I'll see what I can do." Margaret chuckled. She nodded to her friend before scuttling off to find her horse. The Union army had quickly taken down a good bit of their camp, and by the time she found her mare, almost half of the soldiers were lining up in their companies. Margaret mounted her horse and rode to the front of the line, where Colonel Chamberlain was.
"Mrs. Lealan, this is Captain Ellis Spears." The colonel introduced. Margaret nodded her head in greeting, while the bearded captain gave her a salute with his pipe. "Ellis, are we ready?"
"All ready, sir." The man answered.
"Then take us forward."
Situated right by Ellis Spears, Margaret watched the captain turn around and shout in a loud voice, "READY?"
A very weak echo of, "READY" bounced back.
"FORWARD!" Ellis removed his sword.
Another echo of "FORWARD" bounced back.
There was a pause. Margaret held her breath.
"MARCH!"
With the start of a drum beat and the perky sound of a fife, the unit moved forward in a synchronized action.
We're on the warpath now, Margaret thought as she nudged her horse forward with the army. Let's just hope that it we can stop the bloodshed before it comes down on us.