Chapter 30: Zim's Finest Hour
After a bit of a hiatus, I'm finally back. Sorry about the long wait my friends, but it's that time of the year when farm duties call that must be answered. I've been terribly busy with the first spring mowing of 3 acres (and you thought mowing the front yard was bad), and the planting of potatoes, tomatoes, onions, peppers , radishes, watermelon, and sweet delicious corn. Then there was the fiasco of the Battle of Hager's Farm, a Civil War reenactment that made me want to shoot a few people out of a siege mortar. For God's sake, it's a reenactment of a Civil War battle, a living history, not some damned dog and pony show, or a blasted popularity contest. God, it was worse than high school. I, the Indian Scout Corporal of the 10th Ky. Artillery personally led a squad that captured a yankee cannon. Of that I am proud. The men from the 13th Va. Were awesome. The rest of the battle was sub-par. But nonetheless, here I am, the farmer, living historian, and author you waited patiently for, and I will not deny you the rest of this story any longer. So here is the next chapter. Please review.
…A few minutes earlier…
Zim stood beside General Armistead as the bearded commander looked upward at the sapphire blue sky. He closed his eyes and moved his lips as if speaking silently. Zim recognized the gesture…a prayer. He'd seen General Lee do it many times. It was the way humans spoke to or pleaded with their diety. 'God watches over this army.' Lee had said to Zim. In the short, impromptu spiritual moment, amid the noise and the tension of the battle that now threatened like a speeding cannonball, Zim looked up at the sky a moment and wondered if this God of the humans could watch over him too.
"General Armistead!" Came a call. Armistead and Zim turned as General Pickett rode up on his lean, excited horse. Armistead saluted, and Pickett saluted back. He looked down at Zim and nodded approvingly. "Men! Men, let no one forget today that you are Virginians!" He called to the large body of soldiers. He nodded to Armistead and rode off. Armistead faced his officers.
"Gentlemen!" He ordered. "Form your regiments!" He turned away and looked back toward the hill they would soon be charging up. "I'm sorry, Win." He said, almost in a whisper.
"I hope you see your friend up there." Zim finally said.
"I hope you see yours as well." Armistead said without even looking at Zim. "They're up there, son. Let us go to them."
"Let's go together." Zim said. "Sir." Armistead nodded and placed a hand on Zim's shoulder.
"Whatever happens son," He said. "Stay close to me."
"Yes sir." Zim replied. Armistead turned once more to his brigade of Lee's Army. He inhaled deeply, and drew his sword from its scabbard.
"Men of Virginia!" He called loudly, addressing the soldiers. "Remember, you fight for your homes! You fight for your country! For your families! Virginians…forward…MARCH!" Drummers beat out the tempo of a military march, and the brigade, with Armistead in front marched neatly forward. The beating of the drums resounded in Zim's head as he marched beside his commander, and he felt like he was part of something huge, possibly the biggest thing in the history of the planet. As they reached the tree line and stepped out onto the field, the rest of the army came into view, the regiments, the brigades, all marching in formation beside Armistead's brigade. Two brigades were in front of Armistead's men, and Zim could see the forms of the quiet General Garnett atop a dark colored horse ahead of one of the brigades. The large General Kemper atop another horse rode in front of the brigade directly in front. For the first time, Zim could see the army in all its might and glory. There were thousands of men here. Indeed, it seemed that the entire south had come here to fight this battle.
As they approached the line of cannons, the enormous guns fired a volley toward the hill. Every cannon fired, issuing forth a roar that shook the ground. Through the smoke they marched, with the cannoneers cheering them on. Past the guns, and onto the open field they continued, toward their destination. Zim was scared and elated at the same moment. This was it. It felt now like his entire life had been in preparation for this battle, for this very second of his existence. A whistling sound filled the air, and a shell exploded. Another. Then another. The enemy cannon had opened up, and Zim cringed as one exploded behind him. The screams, the horrible screaming of dying men…the acrid smell of smoke and dirt. Zim kept his eyes on the hill, drawing nearer with each step. The cannonballs and shells continued to land all around, some overshooting the army, some exploding in front, many finding targets for their destructive power. Through it all, Zim noticed the rock-solid expression of determination on Armistead's face as he walked in front of his men, his sword held out in front of him as if he alone were walking up the hill to face the enemy.
Zim had it all figured out. He was going up the hill with Armistead, and he was going to empty the pistol the general had given him, hopefully using each shot with effect. Then, he was going to pick up the first rifle he could find with bayonet fixed, and…that was as far as he could plan now, but hopefully it would work. A fence lie ahead, a simple fence made of split trees stacked into a short wall. It was a primitive barrier, but each second now was costly as the Yankee shells kept landing with fierce regularity. The men from Kemper and Garnett's brigades were already taking down rails, or scrambling over the wooden barricade. Shells blew out entire sections of the fence, carrying with them the lives of any nearby men. Then, in the eternity of a couple minutes, the brigades were past the fence, and it was their turn.
"Over the fence!" Armistead yelled. "Come on men, over the fence!" He himself climbed up on top of the rails for a moment and waved his sword in defiance of the enemy, and leapt down on the other side. Zim climbed the obstacle as fast as he could. Men were dying all around, but he tried not to think about that. They continued on, reforming the brigade as they made it over. Zim looked back. They were halfway across. Halfway to the hill.