I am known for many things, as a leader of brave soldiers, trainer of the most efficient killers of men, war hero, fear of the enemy, writer of the 'Manual on the Practice, Deployment and Use of the Modern Infantry Weapon' and contributor to the regular military bulletin of similar name, and politician.

However, this is not a story about the famous Mississippi Rifles which created a more perfect union by means of arming its defenders like so many blades of grass. Or about the intimidating Parrott Rifled Guns, which heralded the lasting peace by delivering the good tidings from our rear straight into the enemy camps.

This is about the ones who, on the many battlefields, filled the bellies of carrion and scavengers. Whose final memories returned to the earth being interred in undignified mass graves. The desire for first a union and then a separation that caused them to allow themselves to be led as sacrifices to satisfy the demands of the savior and then builder of our most serene empire.

It was perhaps in a moment of inspiration that as it reported on the formal outbreak of war on 15 April 1861, that an unknown writer of the Grand Herald captioned an image of a unit of our state militia with the words 'The demon of war has awoken!'. However, this statement was late by at least six weeks, as I will now explain.

Let us go back to 3 March 1861. Our government had passed what would later be simply referred to as 'Militia Act I'. To quote the Grand Herald's explanation of this momentous event:

"The Confederate Congress has provided for a Confederate army patterned after the United States Army. It consists of a large provisional force that will exist only in times of war and a small permanent regular army. The provisional volunteer army was established by an act of the Provisional Confederate Congress on February 28, 1861.

The President of the Confederate States, Jefferson Davis, was given the authority to form the provisional army. Today, Davis has used that authority and has called for 100,000 volunteers.

The actual number the states can muster and arm at this point may remain much lower, as the military organization is not prepared for such large scale-recruitment. Volunteers are flocking to city and town halls to join the militias being formed in the Confederate states. Some state governors are reluctant to let their militias be placed under centralized command. This lack of unity and organization in the young Confederate Army is further fueled by protests from advocates of states' rights."

I was one of those volunteers, and in fact ended up as the leader of a group numbering a mere 375 souls aspiring to become warriors. In the weeks leading up 15 April, the volunteer pool of all the Confederate States was entirely signed up into such units, which proceeded to do basically nothing other than exist and perhaps do a little training with what rifles were available.

When news of the outbreak of war arrived, in that moment I recalled the many misgivings we all held about an overt confrontation. "We shall have to make them bleed bleed for it before they will reconsider their president's cause," I told the men before instructing them to quickly return to their families and handle their personal affairs speedily. We all expected to be called up swiftly in such a contingency.

My confidence before the young men aside, when I returned to my own lodgings, in a most conventionally human moment I wondered if we would be the ones made to bleed instead. Alexander Stephens, our Vice President of the Confederate States had warned, "This step, secession, once taken, can never be recalled. We and our posterity shall see our lovely South desolated by the demon of war."

Part of the impetus behind the Milita Act were credible rumors of the federal forces already being prepared to take the Confederate capital, marching straight on from their own capital. Lincoln had called for 75,000 volunteers on three-month contracts, doubtless expecting a quick victory... As I closed the door behind me, deep in such dark thoughts, I heard derisive laughter mocking these doubts of our "just and holy" cause.

"What are you doing here?" I brandished my rolled-up newspaper at the girl sitting on my desk as though waiting for me. "You don't belong here."

"I was waiting for you," she gestured to my Grand Herald print, which you may recall was the famous 15 April one. "And I certainly do belong."

l

Notes:

This is based on a game you might have heard of, "Grand Tactician: The Civil War (1861-1865)", more specifically a campaign which I kept documentation of. However, this is not primarily about the specifics of that, it's a story about the person writing their memoirs having to deal with being involved in it. If you've seen some of my stories elsewhere with similar context (the Total War Center stories), that means some very hilarious things will happen since as is common in such situations. The moment the player picks a side/faction/nation etc it all goes off the rails.

By the way, other than the event newspapers in the game (like the one quoted above), and the quote from the vice-president (which is used as part of the game's introductory cutscene), the campaign breaks up some aspects of progression by time, specifically four "chapters". The pre-war chapter 1 is titled "A House Divided" and chapter 2 which starts with the war is titled "Demon of War".