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"Why does everything have to happen so damn early?" Confederate muttered, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to better wake up. Men were scurrying about around him, preparing for the attack on Fort Sumter. Confederate himself had chosen to come here to help his people; after his short speech to Davis, how could he just stay at home and relax?

Really, though...it was early. Confederate valued his sleep and...well, he wasn't getting it.

Beauregard calmly walked past the busy soldiers and stood in front of Confederate, a smile on his face. "Ready, sir?"

Confederate eyed him coolly. He wasn't certain if this man knew exactly who he was. He was almost certain his brigadier general did, but, then again, maybe he was just calling him 'sir' out of respect.

Eh. It didn't matter much to him anyway.

The young nation straightened himself, trying desperately not to look as sleepy as he felt. "Uh, y-yes. Let's commence the attack!"

Well, that had been the wrong thing to say. Beauregard blinked at him, a blank expression etched upon his face. "Actually, we won't be attacking for another half-hour, sir. And, to top that, I certainly didn't receive the memo where you were going to give orders."

Confederate winced, mentally cursing himself for such an idiotic move. Why, oh why couldn't this be easier? He felt bitter jealousy toward Union. He must have this whole thing down. If we weren't enemies, I really do wish he could give me some pointers on it. Quickly thinking, he gave an apologetic smile to the man. "Sorry. I'm just-"

"Tired, yes, I know," Beauregard cut him off with a wave of his hand. "But, so are we all. Just make sure you remember your place, sir. President Davis told me you were important to the Confederacy, but that does not mean you're allowed to act high and mighty." With one last glare, the general walked off, ordering his men to do whatever it was they were doing. Preparing for the battle or something. Confederate yawned. Geez, he really needed to wake up. It wasn't good to just piss off the brigadier general like he did.

But, still, a little part of him was angry. He felt that he was more important then the rest of the men, that he was allowed to feel high and mighty. He tried brushing these feelings aside, but found himself holding onto them, instead. It's Beauregard's fault, he thought. His question was confusing and then he goes off and snaps at me like that. Of course I have a right to be angry!

He continued standing there for a few more minutes, just content to watch the hustle and bustle around him. Finally, though, he realized, Maybe...I should be helping? Yeah, then these guys will stop giving me such weird looks.

And, so, he joined in with his people in setting up the gun arrangements, trying not to trip over every possible thing. In his defense, it was dark. Again, he found himself cursing whoever gave the orders to wake up at such an hour.

Oh, right. Beauregard.

He could already tell that he was going to have some trouble with that man in the near future.

"How many men do we have?" Confederate asked Beauregard, as the brigadier general still ran about, making sure there were no mistakes. "Do we outnumber them, because if we don't, they might be able to do something and kill us."

Beauregard sighed, obviously irritated by these questions. "We have around five-hundred-"

"Around?"

Confederate's comment went ignored. "And they have far less. Plus, that fort isn't well-equipped. They have little food and little weapons." He sent a smirk over his shoulder. "We've already won this battle of the war."

"There...there really isn't a war, yet," Confederate pointed out.

"Don't kid yourself. There's a war. There's been a war. Maybe it hasn't been officially declared as of yet, but...I believe the war between the North and the South has been going on since Washington first took the presidency."

Confederate sighed. He really didn't like Beauregard's smug nature. "Aren't you going to order the firing?"

Beauregard scoffed at him. "Giving me orders again, are we? Like I told you, I'm the only leading this fight, so just stay the hell out of my business, got it?"

He really didn't like Beauregard.

When firing began at 4:30 that morning, Confederate was ready for it. Mainly because Beauregard approached him and said something along the lines of, "We're actually firing now, if you're interested in getting off your lazy ass and helping us."

Truth be told, though, it didn't look as if the man needed any help. They seemed to know what they were doing as they bombarded the fort. Confederate watched with curiosity. The Union soldiers weren't even trying to fire back. Huh. Guess Beauregard was right about something- they really don't have much ammo.

Discovering this made him wince. He just hoped they didn't kill anyone. Sure, it was war and they were the enemy...but, they weren't fighting back. "Hey, Beauregard?"

The brigadier general standing next to him shouted some more orders than sighed. "Please refer to me by my proper title."

Oh, if this war doesn't kill him, I certainly will! Swallowing his pride, Confederate tried again. "Brigadier General Beauregard?"

"Yes?"

"Please make sure that your men don't kill anyone."

Beauregard shot him a strange look. "Haven't you ever been to war before, kid?" he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the noise of the canons.

Confederate shrugged. "Uh, w-well, I..." Honestly, he didn't know. Was it him or was it Union? He supposed it would have to be the latter, since he still took the name United States of America.

Again, Beauregard managed to make him angry by yelling, "Then please refrain from ordering me around!"

Keeping his anger down, Confederate instead turned back to the fort, the dark sky now lit up from the fires that were beginning to spring up upon the fort.

The next day was just the exact same as the 12th- fire some more. This time, though, Confederate hadn't received a wink of sleep, for he wanted to stay up and make sure his men were alright. He had even managed to get over his uselessness, and was now actually working the guns with his people. This gave him a proud feeling and it ensured that he wasn't forced to stand around with Beauregard.

And, just when he was getting into the hang of things, he saw the white flag being raised at the fort. "Already?" he whispered to himself as the men cheered. It didn't seem like that long of a time to him. If he had to be truthful to himself, he'd say that he was expecting it to go on much longer than it actually did.

With a sigh of relief, though, he began congratulating his people. And, all he could think was- At least no one died. They did very well in the bombardment...I know we can get through this war. Even if Beauregard is leading. He's still an ass, though.

Ugh, I don't even know what I just put up here. Really, I'm no good with describing battles and whatnot. I should probably work on it more.

Historical notes, anyone? It'll be short since I'm just...tired. Yeah, let's go with tired.

The firing upon Fort Sumter lasted from April 12- April 14, though the Union did finally surrender the fort on the 13th. Bombardment started at 4:30 am on the 12th. I may not think Lincoln is the best president ever [in my little book, it's Washington], but this was a brilliant move he made- he let the Confederacy fire first. He knew war was coming and he thought that, should the Confederacy make the first move, others would be more willing to join the Union. THAT, my friends, was a good move on his part.

There's really not much to tell about Fort Sumter...the general of the Union at the time, Robert Anderson, refused to leave the fort as the South Carolina governor demanded him to, and, so, the Confederacy made the first move.

Beauregard was part French. He didn't learn English until he was 12. So, his way of speech in my story is probably inaccurate- I actually read he was quite charismatic. Was he as big of a dick as I made him seem? I dunno. When researching figures of history, you just get their BIOGRAPHY. You don't get their personality. So, in my fic, he sounds Southern and is a complete jerk. In real life, eh...probably not.

Worst historical notes ever? Why, yes indeed. Oh, also check out my review page- not for a review, but to read what Howl's Owls wrote. She corrected me from the historical notes in my first chapter, and for that, I thank her. Indeed, I love it when people correct me- it means you guys are actually reading my crap! Ahem, if you wanna review while you're on the review page, go ahead and do so. Otherwise, sorry for the wait and the chapter that may/may not be awful. I haven't decided whether or not I like it...