True Calling Chapter 1

So I'm participating in NaNoWriMo, and I've decided to put up each chapter of my novel as I write it.

This is the first chapter, where all of the main characters are introduced.

Enjoy~

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The freezing night air bit at Robert's face as he scanned an open field for Confederates. Bright light from the large Union encampment behind Robert illuminated the immediate area, eliminating the need for any other light source. Still, Robert kept a couple kerosene lamps at his side just in case.

Robert Baxter was a new recruit to the Union Army, having joined only two weeks previously. He was a short, slender-built man with short black hair and brown eyes.

One of the soldiers had brought along a violin, and was playing it around a roaring fire in the middle of the encampment. Robert closed his eyes, trying to picture himself dancing around that fire. He didn't enjoy his job as watchman, but General Manson had said that there was nobody better suited for the job than Robert. Robert exhaled, watching his breath swirl up toward the cloudless and dark night sky.

An hour passed with no signs of Confederates. The violin music had stopped, but now somebody was playing the guitar and many of the soldiers were laughing. Occasionally, the sound of a crashing bottle could be heard; obviously the soldiers were getting drunk again. Robert shook his head; he had never quite understood the lure of drunkenness, or even alcohol for that matter. The way he saw it, drinking alcohol brought nothing but trouble.

The sound of the guitar began to lull Robert, and eventually he fell asleep. He slept for a couple hours, until the next watchman woke him up.

“What the hell are you doing, Robert? You're not supposed to be asleep, you're supposed to be keeping watch!” the man exclaimed. His speech was slurred; it was obvious that he was drunk.

“Sorry, Nathan, I must have drifted off,” Robert responded.

Nathan Reese was a thickly built middle-aged man with a scraggly black beard that was starting to go gray. He had been in the Army for several years, but hardly anybody took him seriously, as he'd rather get drunk and fool around than fight.

“Do you know how dangerous that was?” Nathan screamed wildly. “We could have been attacked by Confederates! And many of our men would have died! Do you understand? The blood from those deaths would be on your hands.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“What does that matter? You endangered all of our lives! When General Manson hears about this, he'll...”

Nathan was interrupted by the sound of cannon fire. Robert grabbed his binoculars and looked into the distance. Although it was still dark, Robert could see that there was a battalion of Confederate soldiers coming their way!

“Robert! What do you see?” Nathan asked.

Shaking, Robert said, “They're coming.”

“How many?”

“Looks like a few hundred, maybe more.”

“Damn, we might not have enough men to fight them off!”

“What are we going to do?” Robert asked.

“What do you think we're going to do? We're going to warn General Manson!” Nathan said. He quickly stumbled toward the camp, easily passed by the sober Robert.

Robert rushed into the camp as fast as he could. The guitarist had just finished a song when Robert came rushing in.

“Where's General Manson?” Robert asked.

General Hank Manson was one of the most highly respected generals in the Union Army. He was a strapping man, barely forty years of age, with a handsome face, short brown hair, and dazzling blue eyes. His voice was very soft and sultry, but it could be commanding and rough whenever he wanted it to be.

Before anyone could respond to Robert, the sound of a cannon, closer this time, boomed through the encampment. A few seconds later, the cannonball slammed into the ground fifty yards away. Nathan, who had just reached that point, was thrown into the air and landed on a nearby tent, killing him and causing the tent to cave in.

General Manson came rushing out of the tent directly behind Robert as another cannon shot went off. This cannonball hit the ground only thirty yards from General Manson and Robert, and sent fragments of dirt their way. General Manson quickly turned to Robert and pointed at a large bell directly in the center of camp.

“Go ring that bell and wake everyone up!” Manson commanded. As Robert rushed off to do that, Manson ran to the largest tent in camp, which was where the weapons were kept, and began handing out guns as fast as he could.

Robert rang the bell and shouted, “We're under attack! Everyone up!” Immediately the camp stirred with activity; men came pouring out of their tents, some only wearing their pajamas, and quickly proceeded to the armory tent, where Commander Lance was helping General Manson hand out weapons. Another cannon shot went off, and the ball smacked into one of the tents, killing the ten soldiers inside.

Robert pulled out his binoculars again and scanned the horizon for signs of the coming onslaught. Sure enough, a long line of Confederate soldiers could be seen reloading the cannon. As he watched, one of the soldiers shoved the man loading the cannon and pointed in the direction of the camp. Robert could guess that this man was the commander of the force, and that he was telling the cannon operator that it was time for the troops to move in.

Robert rushed to the armory tent and quickly said, “They're coming! I think their leader just gave the command to rush us!”

General Manson handed Robert a Springfield and several balls of ammunition. “Take these if you want to live!” he said.

General Manson rushed out of the tent, shouting back to Commander Lance, “Finish handing out the weapons!” Manson then shouted to his troops, “Don't let them into the camp! If they want to rush us, we'll rush them back! All armed men, come with me!” Manson quickly went to his tent and untied his horse as his troops began running out of the camp and toward the Confederates.

By this time, the sky was just barely beginning to grow lighter, so the soldiers could barely see. To compensate, General Manson tied a lantern to his horse's neck and galloped to the front of the battalion. Once everyone was together and organized, General Manson held up his hand, getting ready to give the command to fire.

Closer now, Manson could see that the number of his men equaled that of the number of Confederates. This is gonna be one hell of a fight, Manson thought to himself. When the Confederates had reached a distance of only forty yards from General Manson's battalion, they, too, stopped.

It was a very tense stand-off. General Manson looked right at the Confederate commander, a colonel named Henry Pater. Like Manson, Pater was on horseback; but so were most of his troops. The two men just stared at each other, almost as if trying to get the other person to back down telepathically. After a minute of staring, Pater narrowed his eyes and smiled slightly, then pointed at Manson and shouted, “Charge!”

Immediately, the Confederates began galloping toward Manson's battalion. Manson also gave the order to charge, and fired his rifle at one of the Confederates, who fell off of his horse and was accidentally trampled to death by his fellow troops.

Instead of reloading his rifle, Manson quickly drew his Model 1860 Colt Revolver and rode toward Commander Pater, who, with about a hundred other men, was attempting to flank Manson's battalion on the right side.

It was complete chaos. Smoke from the firearms filled the air, reducing visibility to almost nothing. Bullets flew, punches and kicks were thrown, and screams from both sides could be heard. In the chaos, Manson thought he saw Pater and quickly rode toward him. The man saw Manson and fired his rifle, missing Manson. Manson fired a shot into the man's chest, causing him to fall off his horse.

Unexpectedly, Pater rode up next to the man, leaped off his horse, and knelt next to the man, crying. Manson, shocked, prepared to shoot Pater, but Pater pulled out his own revolver and shot twice at Manson. The first bullet grazed Manson's arm, and the second bullet missed completely. Terrified, Manson rode off and continued to fight with his men.

Pater watched Manson ride off, bitter feelings of hatred welling up inside him. The man that Manson had shot reached up toward Pater and weakly said, “Henry, my brother, is that you?”

“Yes, it's me, Garth,” Pater said, crying.

“Avenge me,” Garth said weakly. “Kill the general.”

“I will, brother,” Pater said. “Don't worry.”

Garth smiled, then gasped one last breath. Pater quickly hugged his brother, leaped back onto his horse, and with teary vision began searching for Manson, wanting revenge.

Meanwhile, Manson was successfully leading his battalion to victory. By this time, everyone in the camp had joined the fight, and although some of them were still drunk, they appeared to be winning the fight. The Confederates were pushed back away from the camp despite their many attempts to maneuver around Manson's battalion.

The battle raged on until well after sunrise. Pater, determined to find Manson, was unwilling to back down, and he figured that the longer he waited, the easier it would be to find Manson, since more and more Union soldiers would be dead. But he wasn't expecting Manson to be so efficient in leading his soldiers, and eventually the remainder of Pater's soldiers begged him to retreat. Pater eventually gave in, and ordered the remainder of his troops to retreat.

Manson saw them retreating and ordered his men to cease fire. Everyone watched as the Confederates disappeared beyond the horizon. Manson then turned his horse around and led his men back to camp for role call.


Commander Lance paced back and forth as he read names on a list. Whenever there was no answer, Lance would mark that person as dead and would also record it in the death notebook. When he had finished, Lance counted that 411 out of their 500 men had died in the battle. He relayed this information to General Manson.

“Damn, it's a good thing they retreated then,” Manson said. “We couldn't have held on for much longer.”

“What should I do about the bodies out there?” Lance asked.

“I want you and forty-nine other men to dig two graves, each seven feet deep and four feet wide. Bury our soldiers in one and the Confederates in the other.” Manson got up from his chair and began pacing.

“Sir, are you alright?” Lance asked.

“I'm fine,” Manson responded.

“Is there anything I can do for you, sir?” Lance asked.

“If at all possible, send letters to the families of the deceased,” Manson said. “Make sure they know about the deaths of their relatives.”

“Will do,” Lance said, leaving the tent. Manson sat down on his bed and put his face in his hands.

The moment he had seen Pater rush to the side of the man he had shot, Manson knew that he had shot Pater's brother, and by the looks of it the two were probably twins. Manson knew Pater to be a very ruthless man, and figured that he'd probably have to deal with Pater at some point in the future.

A courier entered Manson's tent a few minutes after Lance left. Manson stayed on his bed, but looked up when the courier cleared his throat.

“Are you General Hank Manson?” the courier asked.

“That's me,” Manson said. “Do you have something for me?”

“A telegram from Lieutenant General Grant,” the courier responded. He pulled out a small piece of paper and handed it to Manson, then walked back a few paces but stayed in the tent.

Manson read the telegram aloud:

General Manson:

I am very pleased to report the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia at Appomattox, Virginia, on the ninth day of April, eighteen-hundred and sixty-five. Further details will be relayed shortly.

Lt. Gen. Ulysses S. Grant

“So...does that mean the war is over?” the courier asked.

“I don't know,” Manson responded. “It might. We should wait for further telegrams from General Grant before we make a final assertion.”

“Alright, sir,” the courier said. “Goodbye.” He left.

Manson laid down on his bed, trying to relax. He thought again of Commander Pater, and how he might have to deal with him in the future for killing his brother. Deciding that it would be best to think on that after a short nap, Manson curled up under his covers and attempted to sleep.

~like~