Chronicles Of Ashley Elizabeth Fisherman 
Northern Flags in Southwinds Flutter!

-1-
In Dixie Land I'll Take my Stand!

The rolling field was bathed in strong sunshine, the mercury in the thermometer was reading a hundred and ten and I felt like I was about to meet my maker. Either by a musket ball or heat stroke, across the field I see long lines of men dressed in dark blue uniforms. The rays of sun bounced off their brass belt buckles and caught the light of their steel bayonets. Floating high above their caps of blue were brass eagles and batte banners of blue and red.

I took a deep breath as I felt my chest tighten, my palms started to sweat and without thinking I reached up to wipe the sweat from my eyes. What a day to be wearing woolen, butternut gray pants, old leather shoes, and a woolen shirt that was buttoned up to the coller. I felt my hands starting to tremble as I fumbled with the barrel of the musket I was holding.

“Steady men!” a man in front of me called out. “Steady men, hold your ground, hold your ground.. remember it's the rabbit running through the thicket that gets shot and ends up in the stew pot, not the man with the gun.” He called out as he flashed his bright sword. His eyes seemed to catch mine.

That man was my father. And it was because of him I found myself standing in this formation, wearing a woolen Confederate Uniform. And a rifle musket in my trembling hand. This was his idea of Father/Son bonding time, having him and I take part in a local Civil War reenactment. This was his idea of Cosplay.

“Remember,” My dad called out as he raised his sword. “Heaven has prepared a place for each of you. God himself has prepared a place for you around his table.” He said as he turned around.

I blinked. And closed my eyes. He was really hamming it up for the private school children and their teacher who had decided to turn out to the reenactment as some kind of twisted field trip. I forced myself to breathe, the air was thick with dust and I could smell the grass, and the smell of sewage from the nearby swamp. I then closed my eyes to center myself. I could hear the beating of kettle drums and the sound of fifes.

The line of blue was now advancing toward us. They were no more than a hundred or so yards from us, I felt myself go weak in the knees as I watched my father, snear, the bastard was enjoying this. For him this reenactment was more than just a twisted melodrama; this was him reliving the glorious past of our people. This was him, reminding himself that he came from warrior stock.

Then a deafing roar, plumes of white smoke filled the air. The man beside me fell down, and the man beside me rolled over and screamed. My eyes went wide in horror. I fumbled with my weapon and felt something warm run down the front of my trousers.

“Make ready!” I heard my dad shouting as paced up and down the line, he appeared and reappeared like a phantom through the thick clouds of smoke that were hanging low to the ground. “Make ready!” He shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice echoed in my ear.

Shivering I forced myself to pick up the musket I'd been handed that morning and quivering from the weight of the thing I forced myself to bring it up to my shoulder, with a sweaty palm I wrapped my finger around the metal trigger.
“Fire!” He shouted.

And then all of a sudden all around me sparks of red and orange flared up, the recoil of the musket felt like it shattered my shoulder. The smoke started to burn my eyes. And I found myself starting to cough. Another loud boom, more people fell around me, or rolled away. The noise was causing me to fumble around.

“Reload!” My dad called out as he paced up and down the line. No doubt he was reliving some major historical drama right now. I found it odd that despite his strong dislike for theater and shakespeare that he himself was now an actor. And that he seemed to relish the role.

I fumbled again, I fumbled to get the ramrod from the musket, I fumbled to pull the hammer back, I fumbled and the sweat rolling down my eyes did not help, the sweat blinded me.

“Hurry boys!” I heard my dad call out.

At last I managed to get the hammer cocked back, my lungs felt like they were on fire. My ivy colored skin had turned a deep, fire ember red color and yet I felt cold to the touch and oddly enough I found myself shivering.

“Fire!” Another round of smoke, another sharp recoil of the butt of the musket pushing into my shoulder and another moment of feeling the wind leave my lungs. A few seconds later I felt myself falling toward the ground. I felt the hard sod of the earth and I smelled the green grass of the meadow.

My world became nothing more than a gyroscope of color. Blue melted into white, then the white became red and the red became orange and the orange became yellow and the yellow somehow swirled with blue and swirled together and from that horrible colore green appeared. Over and over again the colors swirled around me.

I felt myself becoming far away, very far away, then I heard it, the brass call of the bugle. Somewhere in the distanced tree line. He was sounding 'Retreat' and that is what was going on right now. Through the gray haze that seemed to surround me, I could see phantom forms of gray pulling back, a discord mop. They rushed around me, one eve stepped on my hand, I felt the hard leather of the boots crush my tender fingers. I low hiss escaped my lips, a shearing bolts of pain show all the way through me.

“Fuck..” I groaned as I rolled over and peered at the noon day sun. And well that the last postive thing I remember seeing before my world turned to nothing but long gray shadows.

“Get to your feet” I heard a voice bellow.

Standing over me was a large beast of a man. He wore a gray tunic and on the sleeve of his tunic he had three golden downward pointed chevrons. He had a dark red sash wrapped around his waist and holding in one hand a saber and other hand the colors.

“..” I stumbled to stand. And the next thing I knew my musket was being pushed back into my hand.

“HOLD THE LINE.” I heard my father shout as he came dashing out in front of us. “FOR ALL THAT YOU LOVE AND HOLD DEAR ON GOD GREEN EARTH.. HOLD THE LINE.” He shouted as he reached up and removed his hat from the top of his head.

I twisted my head to the left and then to the right and all around me I noticed men were doing just that. I personally wanted to run to flee, to get the fuck out of here and as soon as I could I would tear this tunic off my back and toss it into a creek or something.

“Rally around the colors.” My father shouted.

“Rally around the colors!” Men started to shout and renewed by this they started to reform ranks. Had the whole world gone mad! This was insane! I twisted my head in front of me, and there across the field I saw them a tide of blue. Their rifles were lowered and I could see the glean of their bayonnets. They were all screaming at the top of their lungs. And fluttering over their blue capped heads was the flag of the Union, the stars and strips and attached to the flag pole was a golden colored eagle with its wings spread apart.

“Fire by platoon!” My father shouted.

“Fire by platoon!” A half of dozen non-commissioned officers yelled.

“Column will make ready!” My father shouted.

“Column make ready!” A half dozen non-commissioned officers yelled.

I shivered as I loaded my musket one more, thumbling for the rod, thumbing to drive home the charge, shivinger I brought the musket to my bruised shoulder and then I squeezed the trigger the blacklash nearly caused me to kneel over.

“Fire at will!” My father ordered. “KILL THEM YANKEE BASTARDS BOYS!”

For several tense minutes I went through the notions of loading my musket, firing my musket and reloading my musket. Each time I squeezed the trigger I felt my shoulder taking the blunt of the blacklash. The field was now covered in smoke, and the smoke made me cough and hack. The heat of the day made it worest and before I could catch myself I found myself vomiting.

And then they appeared again, the sea of blue. And soon we were tangled together. A bedlam of noises that caused my ears to feel like they were bleeding. How long we tangled I do not remember. I'm sure it was just a matter of seconds maybe even a handful of minutes but it seemed like hours. And then it was over.. they started to withdraw.

Stunned I stood there as I watched the sea of blue retreat across the field. A shout was raised from bone dry throats of my fellows. I myself was a little too dazed to do much of anything but just stand there. Then I heard them, the pounding of horse hooves upon the ground, the mighty roar of men charging into battle. As as the wind blew the smoke away from the field I saw a sight that made me feel like death himself was personally coming to clain me.

Four dozen mounted horsemen were charging at us.

“Fall back! Head toward the tree line!” I heard my father yell as he turned his horse around and started to rush toward the grove of trees.

I followed, as the did the rest of my fellows. I don't know how the orcs managed to stand in the Battle of Pelenor fields. But those fellows were a lot braver than me, they stood and faced down six thousand mounted Rohirrim. Six thousand horses came charging at them. Here I was running like a rabbit from four dozen. Somehow I managed to reach the cover of the trees and then, well I guess the heat got the best of me, because as soon as I stopped I felt myself starting to fall over. And then I once more entered the land of Spirits.

End of Chapter One.