It was officially the second day of the battle. The Cannon fire lit up the night sky, as they fired into the trees trying to get a lucky hit on a sleeping enemy soldier. The men were patching their wounds and eating their rations. They knew that this calm was a god send and that they should make whatever peace they can out of it. They cleaned their rifles and checked their ammo and got a three hour rest before the next morning.
The calvary men came riding in from the northeast side of Gettysburg. One of them had a patch over his eye, while the other was holding a letter.
“Is there a Cpt. Jones here? A Cpt. Frederic Jones?.
One of the medics shifted his head to the tent and nodded. The two Calvary men rode to the tent. As they entered they saw a tall, muscular, black haired man standing over his bed and analyzing his rifle and Colt pistol. He turned to show his green eyes, and his trimmed face. It was as though the man was born to be a soldier.
The tent was humid and the smell of half eaten meat had filled the room from the night before, this was because Cpt. Jones listened to the battle during the morning. The calvary men entered and were going to give him the letter, but were interrupted before they could speak.
“Let me guess, we lost the fight over on the Northeast side?”, said Jones.
“Yes, we tried to hold them off, but two large confederate corps came from the north and northwest and over powered us.”, said the soldier with the patch over his eye.
“Howard was unsuccessful in the defense I see. What of Reynolds?”
The two soldiers cringed. “General Reynolds is dead sir. He was killed, shot off his horse.”, said the soldier. “Doubleday had taken command sir, but was still driven back .”
“Why wasn’t I contacted sooner and where are the Generals now?”, demanded Jones.
“Sir, We were to busy fighting. Sorry to tell you, but we are the last ones sir. General Doubleday and Howard are on their way here right now. The Confederates are right behind us.”, said the two soldiers.
Jones grabbed his locket containing the picture of his wife. “Oh Emily, what shall I do?”, thought Jones. Jones looked at the soldiers, “How long?”.
“Half-hour at least. They are well armed and still hungry for a fight.’, said the wounded soldier.
“Well, might as well get ready.”, said Jones.
Cpt. Frederick Jones graduated from West point Military academy. His wife Emily Jones and him married in 1858 and have been in love since.
Jones was in the campaigns since the breakout of the war. He established himself a soldier who fought stern but fair. He let the young live, as long as they had no intention of fighting, and the wounded leave. When in full out battle, he would fight till every last soldier was dead. He never surrendered and would gladly give his life for anyone of his soldiers under his command.
He was a true patriot, a man who believed in pride before fall and that death on the battle field was the greatest glory a soldier could ever have. That was something no enemy could of taken from him.
Jones sat on top of one of the cannons. His Colt was firmly in his hand as he saw Howard come riding in. Howard looked directly into Jones’s eye and ordered, “Where in gods name is your commander!?”.
“He died when he was shot in the head sir.”, said Jones calmly.
“I see, you were under Reynolds command?”, asked Howard.
“Yes sir. I wasn’t called in though. If I had gotten the message sooner, it probably wouldn’t of made a difference.”
“Indeed, you could of died if you had went.”, said Howard.
Jones laughed at Howard. “That’s real funny sir. Reynolds still may have died, but I assure you that the battle would of turned out differently.”, said Jones charmingly.
“Don’t use that sort of talk soldier. Your arrogance and ignorance will kill you someday. I command you to give me your name!”, ordered Howard firmly.
“My name is Cpt. Frederick Jones. I ‘ve fought in more battles then you’ve taken breaths. I’ve killed more confederates then any slave that had been punished by those monsters. I could kill a man a hundred feet away just by looking at him. I may be Cocky, but that’s what makes me the best. Sir.”, said Jones.
“Good. I need more men like you then. Now, how many men do you have?, asked Howard.
“Enough. My men have been trained to fight against superior force. I can assure you, that my 1,200 men can hold off Lee’s entire Army. “
“Now you’re just being stupid. Look, Meade has a full-proof plan to destroy Lee’s army. You will be given command of the X corps. Your job will be, Special. You and your men will move behind enemy lines and their flanks strait to Robert E. Lee. When you get there capture him and bring him north to Virginia. Understood?”
Jones grabbed his locket around his neck. He thought of Emily, her smile, her eyes that poisoned his soul. Her words gave him power, confidence and a reason to fight. Jones opened his green eyes and looked into the General’s. “No problem.”
The sunset covered Jones’s men. He rode his horse behind the hills and headed north. He saw smoke up ahead, the smell of gun-powder and the voices of men. Jones dismounted his horse and with the two calvary men that had visited him that morning, climbed the hill and peaked over. He saw the camp. He counted 50, all of them holding their rifles close by. Going in shooting would be suicidal, but if anything fun. He knew though that he had a responsibility, and had to complete his mission. He looked behind to his small group of men. They were all ready to give their lives for their Cpt. They knew that he would willingly die for one of them, and for that, they would do the same for him. Jones climbed back down the hill and grabbed his rifle. He then remounted his horse and looked into the setting sun, with the orange hills in th horizon, the wet grass below him, he pondered on how such a beautiful day, was about to turn bloody.
Jones and his men rode down the hill firing their rifles. Jones was successful at taking the enemy by surprise, but now he had to fight the entire camp with only half the men. He fired at a blinks notice, each shot had one with the precision of a sketch artist. Each bullet ripped through the enemy, killing them instantly. Fire erupted as one of his soldiers threw a grenade into one of the Ammo stocks at the camp. Jones looked at the flames with delight. He knew what this night would result in, and for that he yelled, “NO YANKEE WILL BE KILLED TONIGHT!”
With that, the Union soldiers fought harder. Jones felt a jerk beneath him and he fell off his horse, landing on his side. He looked to his horse that had a hole in its head. Jones frowned and drew his pistol. He leapt to his feet and started to fire at the nearby confederates with lighting speed. He reloaded his pistol, and drew his sword. He ran into a group of soldiers trying to reload their guns and began his slaughter. He killed two with the single swing of his sword and at point blank range, shot one in the heart. Then silence filled the camp.
The sound of hard breathing and cheering men filled the plain. One thing still didn’t feel right, or sounded right at that matter.
Jones looked to his left to see a young boy. He had on a confederate uniform and held a drum in his hand. The boy started to cry as Jones came closer. Jones knelt to the boy and looked into his eyes. “Go home. Go home and free your slaves. Go home and marry a young girl. Go home and never show your face on my battlefield again. War is no place for a young man. I will not live with burden of knowing that I had to kill a boy in combat. Do you understand?”
The boy nodded his head. He removed his uniform, put on his sacks, and ran up the hill through the horror of the dead.
“Why let the boy live sir? What if he tells of our position? What if he decides to spy on us?, asked one of the Yankees.
“Because I’m a soldier, not a murderer.
“So were to?”, asked another soldier.
Jones looked at him and smiled. “The first thing that We’ll do is find me a new horse.”
The third day had come. Jones and his men stood on top of Wolfs Hill as they watched the horror to the east. Meade, Howard, Hancock, Slocum, all these generals where now fighting for their lives. Jones resisted the urge to lead his men right into Ewell’s flank and giving the men at least a little bit of a chance to advance down the field, but he knew that if he decided to wait and go after Lee, that he would be given the honor of capturing the confederate leader himself, and a chance to bring him to justice. Jones looked to the rising sun. He knew that today would make him, or kill him. Either way, he would get to kill more confederates.
Jones and his 25 men sat behind Chambersburg Pike. He reloaded his ammo and checked his men. He came to the two calvary men and nodded. Each soldier sat in silence, for Lee was only meters away. Jones sent 5 men to each corner of the Hill where Lee was over looking the battle. The Yankees hid in the grass and stayed in position till Jones gave the order.
Jones came to the northern side of the hill and looked at the artillery. He counted Cannons and hand cranked machine guns. He knew that a time window would be open from the point of when he caught him to the pont where he could get him to Virginia.
Jones grabbed his Locket and prayed. He tucked it into his shirt and gave the signal.
Jones ran up the hill with a team of five men. He shot the gunner at the machine gun position. His window was clear. He shot two men on top of horses trying to pull out their rifles and watched them both hit the ground. Jones came to the top of the hill. He pulled his blade and started killing confederates. He dropped his rifle and drew his Colt. He began to fire at a small group, cutting them down. Jones then felt a great burn rip through his shoulder, he had been hit. The blood came down across his shoulder and his mind whirled with pain.
He had to push it aside and continue fighting. He reloaded his pistol and began to fire again. The smell of burnt flesh and clothing filled the air. He couldn’t help but think he was in hell, but then his mind kicked back into reality when he saw Robert E. Lee.
Lee was mounting his horse, when he saw him. Jones smiled and started his charge towards Lee. He was hit again by the burn, and then he fell to his knees. This time it ripped through his torso, and he knew that he would bleed to death.
He looked at the bodies that were impossible to identify because the blue and grey was drenched in blood. He counted 180 men around him, and he felt a bit of joy for that he knew that his men had killed more then the confederates had. The remaining 50 soldiers circled Jones. Jones looked into his pistol chambers and saw that one bullet was left. He looked down to his sword and saw that it was still sharp. He came off one knee and began to stand.
“You fought well Yankee. Your feats have shown me what fine warriors we face. I hope before I die, that I will get the chance to fight a hundred more like you.”, said Lee.
Jones found that it was hard to speak and instead of words, blood would drip from his mouth. “Sorry to break it to you General, but you will not win this battle. You will not win this war, because what you believe in is wrong. You would rather see people die at labor then give them the right to freedom. You took everything that they owned, loved and believed in and destroyed it.”. Jones coughed, his mouth tasted like copper and he began to feel cold.
“Look at you boy. You can’t even stand. Give it up, drop your weapon and die already.”, said Lee.
Jones laughed and looked directly into Lee’s eyes. “ I thank you Lee, I really do. You’re letting me live to give me enough time to speak. You need to know that people like me will never give up, and will never die. We keep coming back, and keep fighting. You can enslave us, beat us, kill us, and take everything from us, but you will never take our patriotism!”
Jones drew his gun and fired at Lee, but instead of hitting Lee, the bullet instead killed his horse, and Lee fell to the ground . Jones charged to the nearest soldier and stuck his blade into his chest. He then took his rifle and fired the lead ball into the soldier across from him. He took the dead soldiers sword and brought it down upon another soldier.
Jones fought with the little strength he had left. He took down 7 more soldiers, then in a last attempt, jumped for Lee.
The sound of gunfire covered the entire hill. The confederate calvary came to the top of the hill and shot Jones in the back. With the final bit of strength, Jones grabbed his locket and held on to it tight. His last thought was Emily’s smile on the day of their wedding.
Jones walked through the battlefield. Thousands of men, boys and women pretending to be men walked the field. Jones looked at the remaining Union soldiers. With a small tone and an even lighter movement of his mouth, Jones muttered, “The Patriots...”
End.
So what cha think, EH?
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Last edited 12 Apr 2007 09:28 pm by Apocalyptic Gladiator
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