Chapter 6: The Horrors of War
Well readers, Christmas time is over, and I hope you all a good one. I got swords, socks, salt and pepper shakers, and best of all, two wheels for my cannon. Now I can command my own gun at the reenactments…and shoot golf balls 300 yards. Anyway, I thought I'd stop arsing around, and write a new chapter, so here it is, submitted for your approval.
From his seat on the 'mule', as General Heath had called the animal, which was a comfortable bit smaller than one of the confederate horses, Zim watched the commanders conduct the battle from the rear of the action. He looked on as they sat atop their horses, sending orders with this lieutenant, dispatches with that sergeant, receiving messages from soldiers of different rank, on horseback and on foot. Zim had no doubts why these men were generals. He could hardy keep up with the coming and going of orders and news, and these two inferior humans seemed to go at it as calmly and easily as playing a war-game simulator at the Irken Academy. He admired these two commanders, despite the fact that they were humans.
"What say you, Zim?" General Heath asked, wheeling his horse around slowly. "It appears that despite the confusion, we may yet take the field today.
"That's great, Heath-General." Zim commented. "How bad are we defeating the Yankee stinks?" General Hill raised his eyebrow and shook his head with a slight smile on his bearded face.
"Well son, it's a hard fight, and they're putting up one Hell of a resistance," Heath replied. "…but I think if we keep pushing them, we'll take the town."
"General Heath," General Hill said. "Let's ride up to the top of this hill, and see to the battle." He looked at Zim. "You may accompany us if you wish." Zim looked to Gir, who was tied to a tree, and busy licking himself.
"Yes, I'd love to see the battle." Zim said. "We'll destroy those Yankees, and I want to be there to see…it."
"We've got to get this young man a uniform." General Hill said to Heath with a chuckle. "Or give him a commission." Heath smiled, and the three, followed by a cadre of mounted officers, Hill and Heath's retinue, lead their mounts up a rise.
Below was an expanse of flatter land, with a dirt road leading past a large building off in the distance, with a few houses dotting the landscape. Past the large building, perhaps a couple miles from the spot where the men (and alien, respectively) watched, was a small town. It was not the mere picturesque panorama of a small farming town that caught Zim's eye though. It was the Hell that raged on the fields below him.
Even Zim cringed as he beheld the dozens of dead soldiers laying in sometimes impossible positions. Horses lay in bloody pools, often with their former masters nearby. The roar of battle was near deafening as cannon, muskets and pistols fired, and men screamed in anger, defiance and pain. Shells blew holes in the earth, sending men, sometimes four at a time into the air. Zim turned as a young officer, his uniform dusty, and face covered in blood, rode up on a brown horse. A shallow gash, probably a near miss from a musket, ran along its right rear hip, and blood streamed down the animal's leg, just as it did from the cut on the mans forehead. Somehow, both beast and man were still alive.
"Sir," The officer said, sounding out of breath, and saluting with a shaking hand. "We're pushing the Federals back, but they're beginning to get reinforcements…there." He motioned toward a wooded hill in the distance. "The black hats…the Iron Brigade, I believe. What are the orders, sir?"
"Tell Archer to keep pushing toward that ridge. You understand, lieutenant?" Heath replied. "By God, we got to push them off that ridge, and get the high ground."
"Yes sir, the high ground, understood sir." The officer said, saluted, then rode back down the hill.
Zim had never seen anything like this before. It was nothing like the battles he'd seen. It was no surgical strike, no vaporization of an enemy. This was…slaughter. It was loud, gruesome, bloody. It was violent. Zim began to shake a little, and he didn't understand why. General Hill noticed Zim's expression.
"It's something, isn't it, son?" Hill said unemotionally.
"Yes…" Zim replied in a detached tone. He tried to speak, but all that came out was "Why?"
"Because we have to." Hill answered. "And there's really no other reason." He looked out over the battle. "You still want to be part of it? You still want to be here, and watch all of this?" Zim thought about it for a few seconds.
"Zim is no coward." He whispered. He looked at the commander. "I must see the Confederacy win."
"Then I suppose you're here for the same reason we all are." Heath commented. "When all this is over, maybe we can all go home, and not have to see this anymore."
"I'd like to go home." Zim whispered as he watched the men fall on the fields below.
A short chapter, I know, but it's meant to be merely the observations of Zim, and to present a more two-sided view of how intense the fighting was. I want to give the story of both sides, and show the humanity of the Civil War, not just the facts. Oh, and I KNOW that A.P. Hill was actually in Cashtown sick on the first day, but I needed him up front for the last couple scenes, so lay off. Please send me your reviews, or I'll send Jeb Stuart's cavalry corps to your house to eat all of your ramen! Until next chapter, cheerio.