Good Ol'South

            The orange flames licked at the wood in the fire pit. The cold outside was almost unbearable. With the sky shining and flickering white stars visible; it was a beautiful sight. There was no chance of standing next to the fire with the others any longer than I already had. Captain Ashley of the third infantry will certainly trot over and give me a lecture of being warm for too long. He had done it before, just came out of no where and told me that just because I was new to the war, and young, didn’t give me any right to enjoy the warmth of the blazing fire longer than any of the other soldiers spread out across the Arkansan fields. The fact that I am young was a reason that I should be able to stay away from the fire pit longer, or at least that is what he thinks.

           “Awh, wha’d he know?” asked my buddy from Hot Springs, “I’d bet that’d he’d never been fer from an fire in ‘is intire life!”  Caleb had been born and raised in the good old south. His southern accent was beyond me. I couldn’t understand how one person could draw out words the way Caleb could. Though I have lived around southerners my entire life, my father and mother were more educated than most. And because of that blessing, I had good schooling, learned more than just how to ride a horse, shoot a gun, hunt, fish, and plow the Arkansas soil. Acquiring a country accent is not hard at all to do, but mine happens not to be the strongest out of all the men in my group.

           “I don’t know Caleb. He seems to know what he’s doin' and sayin’. And, I don’t think the commanders of this blasted war would put in charge a dumb-in-the-head person,” I told him.

           “You’re exactly right Footman William,” boomed Captain Ashley, “I ain’t some dumb idjit happenin' to chance 'pon bein' a capt'n. An’ you two can go catch a few more minutes by the fire if'n you want to.” The captain slowly walked away from Caleb and I.

           “I ‘ate it when ‘e do that! He just show up whenever ‘e wants to! Don’t give no second thought that we migh’of shot ‘em, thinking he were a yank,” Caleb grumbled on our way back to the fire.

           “At least he let us go back to the pit, even though he overheard what we were complainin' ‘bout,” I quickly said, thinking that Captain Ashley could still be listening. I wanted him to know that I was grateful to be near the wonderful heat again. My eyes looked around just in case I would catch a glimpse of the captain walking away.

           The next couple of days, the freezing weather I had once loathed, became something I wanted again. The heat that now cloaked us with sweat, and feeling as if we were being suffocated by the humidity, was now one of the  smaller enemies to us soldiers. Lice and ticks were another of which we fought not only daily, but every second. It seemed like they attacked us, not just from the front, or the back, but all over our infested bodies. Taking a bath in the river would not be a question I was about to ask the Captain. And to wash our cloths so close to a soon-to-be battle field, none of us wanted to take a chance in being shot by a traveling Yankee brigade. Especially the brigade we are traveling to attack near a town called Batesville.  

           The thudding sound of  marching soldiers cannot not be mistaken as something else. My heart is pounding like a rabbit jumping into it’s hole.

‘This is it,’ I tell myself, ‘This is where my life may end. Where my freedom may be taken away. But if I live, I know I will keep on fighting for my country. I will rage on... There we go! That’s the way to think! I’m gonna to make it! I’m gonna to make it! I know I will.’

           “Thomas! Get yerself right over ‘ere! Now!” shouted Caleb. His voice was obviously strained. He was just as scared as I, and there was no doubt about it. The thumping was getting louder, I could hear the horses of the Yankees neighing, the opposing side captain’s shouts were clear now. They were getting closer and closer, and I knew that the time had come.

           Everyone now was in formation, all our rifles in aim of someone’s head. Those in the front line I commend greatly, most of us knew they would be the first to die. With a shout from our captains, bullets started to fly here and there. Men on the battlefield were yelling their hearts out. Screams were spewing from many mouths, bloody wounds showing up on our bodies. At a glance, a man in blue fell to his knees howling with excruciating pain. He had been shot in the head, but still moving and thinking, but most of all, still aware of what was happening to him. The Confederate who had  pulled the trigger, finished the man off by gutting out his heart.

Some of us soldiers carried a rifle with a spear at the tip, and if one of us were close enough to dig into a body, and kill a fighter, we would. It was not for the enjoyment of ripping into a man’s chest, and yanking out his soul, it was the wanting to stay alive. If I was not the one to take the life in front of me, then, surely he would take mine.

           Running down the hill now, I see hundreds of bodies scattered across the ground. Some were of the Yankees, most were of my fellow men. The crimson colour of blood could be seen all over the soil, on and around lifeless beings. I aim for a Yankee’s heart, pull the trigger. POW! He falls to the ground, his body making a lump. Spit mixed with the red blood gushed out of the screaming mouth. His body started to shake, but not for long. Out of no where, I hear Captain Ashley calling out, “Fall back! Fall Back!”

           The urgency was strong, I was glad to obey. Anything to get away from this horror-stricken land. I quickly make my way back up the steep hill from hence I came. I saw only a few of my fellow southerners going the same direction as I. A sadness immediately gripped my heart. I knew for a fact, there were not many of my regiment left. My pace became quicker and quicker, because I heard the thumping of soldiers’ boots behind me, and there were still the sound of guns growing in tempo, and they were getting closer.

           With a shock, I gasped for a breath, as a terrifying pain shot threw my body. I know I mustn’t stop running, but the pain is too tremendous. All of a sudden, I stumble to the earth, and fall flat upon my face. Before the sounds of shouting, the smell of gun powder and blood, and the sight of the dead grass below me disappeared, I felt myself being pulled across the ground by strong hands to safety.