Brothers of War (standard:action, 4010 words)
Author: Wardog	Added: Aug 08 2005	Views/Reads: 3855/2437	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
AIn 1864 a one-armed Union Sergeant leads his men into battle. After being shot he is placed undercare of his brother. Reluctantly, the doc lets him go to fight another day. Will the doctors worse fear come true and he finds his brother dead, or will he t

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side others casting shadows on the battlefield. A grey horse also lay 
dead, and it was the sergeant's. It had been shot from underneath him. 
He was thrown to the ground, where he fired a blast from his sawn-off 
allowing him to get to his feet, and draw his sword. A broken pole lay 
and at the end a tattered and bloodstained flag, clutched by a cold 
hand. This all drew up to the heels of the soldiers who were giving all 
they had to gain a decisive victory. The sun rose, and at that moment a 
shot seemed to ring out louder then they others, and the bullets sailed 
through the mass, grazed several shoulders, and struck the lieutenant 
in the head. Slowly it seemed, he fell his sword falling to the ground, 
and the blood from his fatal wound staining the dewy grass. The other 
gave an even greater struggle after this terrible moment, and pushed 
the enemy into the trees. The sergeant rounded up a small group and 
they led the advance, cutting deeply into the confederates, and in the 
outer edges of the enemy dismayed soldiers fled, and the others 
followed retreating deeper in the woods. Others slowly drew away still 
firing. Several shots riddled the winning force, resulting in more 
casualties. With the last shots, they remanding opponents turned and 
fled. Yet, their immediate joy of victory was pierced has a shot 
slammed the sergeant in the stomach and he fell face forward. They ran 
to him, and turned him over. He was still alive. The injured were 
gathered and they marched off the battlefield leaving their lieutenant, 
and bearing their wounded sergeant. The doctor at the nearest camp 
received the injured, though some had died on the march there. He saw 
the sergeant last after several amputations, and the removing of 
bullets. The soldiers gathered by the sergeant were startled when the 
doctor gave a cry of dismay and rushed to his side. “Brother” He cried, 
and the pale face of the sergeant looked to his. He smiled. “Yes, 
James. It is I. I didn't figure on getting shot this time, but it looks 
like I figured wrong.” The doctor unbuttoned his brother's uniform, and 
revealed a blood soaked wrapping. He moved the wrapping up, and felt 
for the bullet hole. He sobbed has his forefinger slipped gently inside 
the wound causing his brother to gasp with pain. He washed the injury, 
and was relieved to find the bullet, but there was still the matter of 
removing it. To his joy it was easily done, and the wound patched up 
finely. Yet, in the following days James was reluctant to release his 
brother from his care, and he feared he would see him next lifeless, 
laying on some field and around him fellow demised men. That would be 
too horrid for him to bear, for he loved his brother dearly. While he 
lay resting in his cot he remininsced about the days when they were 
younger and they ran the fields. He was always more interested in 
beetles, while his brother was the tougher one always taking (but 
usually giving) a licking. “You must let me go brother,” He urged 
James, “My men need me, and besides the wound has healed.” James looked 
at him for a moment. He moved to where his brother lay, and sat at the 
end of the cot. “Mine hasn't, Bill.” He replied. “What? I don't 
understand.” “I was hurt when I had to cut off your arm, and seeing you 
lay pale, and watching the life drain out of you is more than I can 
bear.” “But you witness this sort of thing every day, so how am I 
different from any other patient?” “You're not just a patient.  You're 
my brother.” “Don't let your emotions cloud your judgment. I must 
leave.” “I know, but I-“ He was interrupted has a young man entered. 
“Sir,” He said to address the sergeant. “ We jest learned tha' the 
Confederates we fought was defeated this mornin'!” “Really? By who?” 
“Major Brown's boys, abou' five or so miles south ‘ere.” He nodded and 
the private left leaving the two alone again. “I won't keep you Bill. 
But please stay out of harms way,” The doctor said finally, “And I 
don't want to see you again until after the war.” “How can I stay out 
of harms way? This is war. Besides you know has well as I do that they 
won't care if I am crippled, but trust me James, I don't want to see 
you soon either.” The regiments had lost almost four dozen soldiers, 
but they received consoltation when Major Brown offered one of his 
battalions from is own regiment. After the battle the recruits had 
boasted about what they had done, and how they had helped them be 
victorious while the veterans talked amongst themselves often 
reminiscing on other fights and comparing them to the most recent 
battle. The savoring of the soldiers was stopped has they set out once 
again on a march south bringing the fight deeper in the enemies' 
territory. Sergeant Bill Thompson was promoted to lieutenant, and 
several others gained ranks. In the days that followed, a constant pain 
around his wound plagued the new lieutenant. It had healed, and the 
pain had mostly gone, but now he felt it again. He was even forced to 
slow his new steed to a slower pace due to the sharp jolts of pain he 
received if he rode too hard. He wasn't sure why he was pained so much. 
He didn't want to turn to leaving the men, and to go back to the 
doctor. He also didn't want to upset his brother any further. The march 
continued through most of the day, but then to the excitement of the 
freshly victorious troops, shots were heard. They marched faster, with 
more confidance now that they knew they had the ability to achieve 
victory in the face of an enemy. Then they burst out into yet another 
open field, and around them lay the dead. Farther ahead there was a 
skirmish obscured by gun smoke. A small eight pounder fired into the 
smoke, and refreshed yells rang out, and traveled appallingly to the 
regiment. The small battalion issued from Major Brown to assist 
Lieutenant Bill's men took front, and prepared to charge. The 
lieutenant gave the order, and they charged, running across the field 
causing the ground to shake, and a noise like thunder drowned out all 
other sounds. They clashed into the fight, and just as they did it 
actually thundered, and rain began to fall. The men were soaked, and 
the rain allowed limited vision, and most of the battle was hand to 
hand combat. They wielded their bayonets, while others had long knives. 
The artillery had ceased, and the ground grew muddy. The flag bearer 
was shot, and he toppled over, and the flag fell. When it rose again it 
was muddy and it was impossible to distinguish between either flag. 
They sank deeper into mud, and each step became harder has their boots 
were caked with it. They pushed the enemy to a stream where the banks 
were stained red, and the rushing water frothed crimson. To the right 
they were surprised has six separate canons were fired and fell amongst 
them. A shot hit the stream causing a spurt of water to rise, and 
several fell. A tree was hit, raining several with splinters. One 
bounced taking a leg, before resting in the chest of a private. Then 
they saw another group of soldiers, and a flag with no mud, and it was 
clear that more enemy soldiers had joined the battle. The artillery 
fired again slicing into the Union lines. They moved farther away from 
the canons, while edging closer to the enemy lines. Once in range they 
fired, and were then hit by the immediate retaliation. The incoming 
artillery fire now landed a safe distance away, yet in the realization 
of this they only moved in closer. Finally, Lieutenant Thompson rounded 
up his boys and left Major Brown's loaned battalion to fight the 
original skirmish. He then led the war to the guns, and they met the 
enemy reinforcments. There was a rider on the Confederate side, and he 
bore the marks of a Major. The Leiutenant rose his pistol and fired at 
the leader. His bullet missed by inches striking one in the background 
of the demonstration. The Major rose his rifle and fire. It grazed 
Bill's face, and blood dripped down the side of his head onto his right 
shoulder. He sped his horse up, closing in on the Major who was 
reloading his rifle. At the site of the Union lieutenant he dropped it, 
and drew his sidearm. The speeding lieutenant drew his sword, and in a 
flash of steel severed the neck of the Major. In that moment the late 
Major invoulantarily depressed the trigger, and the shot struck the 
attacker in the leg. He slipped side ways, almost falling from the 
horse, but caught himself by clutching the reins with his teeth. He 
hoisted himself straight, and checked his horse. The Major was caught 
in the stirrups by his leg, and the horse was fleeing past the 
artillerymen who watched in horror has their headless leader was 
dragged away. That was very much the end of the valor of the 
confederate side, and they fought half-heartedly. Major Brown's 
battalion pushed the enemy until the boys under Lieutenant Thompson 
could no longer see them. The rain beat down harder, and lighting 
illuminated the darkening sky. They had flanked the enemy, and came 
around to their own canons. The Napoleans were put in motion, and they 
fired at the enemy. Several shots went straight in, and some rolled 
kicking up mud almost faster than the eye could see, and smashed into 
the opposition. They turned and ran straight into the hail of fire, and 
met another round. It caused further damage, and discouraged greatly 
the rear men fled only to be slaughtered by the other men. The others 
turned, and ran away the guns roaring after them. The ones the brought 
up the rear were hit from the shots. The men, who had been originally 
fighting and were reinforced by the others, were convinced they had 
been saved by them, and hailed them with cheers. They were enjoying yet 
again their second victory, but one was not. Lieutenant Bill who had 
been seen fighting with all his gallantry was not to be found. Until 
two young privates appeared clutching him were they somewhat relieved. 
He had a nasty cut down his face, and a bloody rag was wrapped around 
his leg, but something else seemed to bother him. “Lieutenant, are ya 
hurt anywhere else?” He replied by clutching his stomach. They stripped 
off his coat, and shirt to find the healed wound. Yet, something was 
wrong. It didn't look right. “What did that doc do to ya, eh?” He 
didn't answer. He was sweating profusely, and his breathing shallow. 
“Come on, let's get him up to a doctor.” They carried him on a 
makeshift stretcher until they were at last to the lieutenant's 
brother. “Bill I told you-.” He began, and abruptly stopped. He ran his 
hand over the wound. He looked angry and sad to the others around him. 
“Nurse!” A lady came over, dressed in the usual nurse attire. “Yes, 
Mister Thompson?” “You have been cleaning all the tools, haven't you.” 
She looked a little flustered. “Well, you see only the ones-.“ He 
pointed to his brother. “He has an infection, an infection from a 
contaminated tool. They must be kept clean or this is what happens!” 
“Well, we can-.” ”Do what? What the hell could we possibly do? He is 
going to die because of your-your-ca-“ He sobbed. He startled the 
others has he pulled a pistol and aimed it at the nurse. Another 
soldier ran to him, and pushed his arm down as the gun went off, and 
the shot hit the ground. He pulled it away from the distraught doctor. 
“It was not her fault nor yours. The enemy killed him, not you.” The 
soldier said, “And killing somebody is not what your brother would have 
in mind.” The doctor sobbed again, and turned to his brother. His 
breathing was shallow. “Brother, what am I going to tell ma?” He asked 
kneeling beside him. “I love her.” He said simply raising a hand and 
grabbing his brother's shoulder. “Do you remember when you fell out of 
that cheery tree when we were little? You had broken your arm, and ma 
was hysterical because she thought you'd lost it?” He smiled. “Yes,” He 
paused. Then moved his stump. “Well, now I really did lose it.” The 
doctor grinned. “Bye James.” The lieutenant said. The doctor grasped 
his arm, and began to say something, but then his brother stopped 
breathing. Then a blast was heard, and yells were issued to the right. 
He let go of Bill, and turned. In the distance they saw men firing at 
each other. The sergeant who had wiped tears from his face said: “For 
Lieutenant Thompson.” He then turned and mounted his horse, the other 
men followed, and they were gone to battle. The doctor reached under 
the cot and pulled out his brother's musket. He loaded it casually and 
slung it over his arm. He picked up his pistol, and tucked it between 
his belt, and side. He looked to a young man, who was his apprentice. 
“You are the doctor now. I have something I must do.” He mounted a 
white stallion, and faced it toward battle. He gave it a sharp nudge, 
and it galloped, and has he entered the battlefield the soldiers swore 
for an instant there afterwards, that their lieutenant had come back 
for one last fight. Though it was not the leiutenant, but the doctor. 
The others realized his intentions, and tried to persuade with gestures 
to go back, but he refused. They drew closer, and had to divert their 
attention to the battle ahead. The doctor was near the front, and he 
rose his musket. He had learned to shoot, and he was just as good has 
his brother had been. He fired. A marching soldier on the enemy lines 
twisted, and fell back. His comrades responded by raising arms. They 
opened fire at the same instant the others did. The shots filled the 
doctor's ears, and though he was unused to the sounds, he was not 
unaccustomed to death, and when he witnessed it around him he only grew 
fiercer, fueled by the love of his brother. It was muddy from the rain, 
and the doctor was caught by surprise when his horse slipped and fell. 
He was thrusted of it, and at that instant a hail of fire rose around 
him. His horse, who had now a broken leg, was hit squarly in the head. 
Mud kicked up around him and hequickly rose to his feet, and came up 
with his rifle. He fired straight ahead, the others around him 
continuously following suit. He knelled behind his late horse, and 
fired. The enemy troops parted, and he dimly saw the shapes of several 
artillery guns. He heard the blasts, and he threw himself down. He 
heard one whistle past his head, and uncontrollably it seemed he looked 
behind him. The shot struck a soldier who flipped up in the air, and 
fell back. Then another, but this time it was an explosive shot and it 
blew infront of his advancing brothers in arms. He rose back to his 
feet, and fired. The enemy was close now, he fixed his bayonet. The 
others had already down so, and they stood in silence for a split 
moment when both sides prepared for hand to hand combat, and the 
overcast sky parted, and the sun shone on the field. A breeze picked 
up, and the flags fluttered. The dead lay almost peacful like, and the 
sun seemed to make them forget war, and they felt joy. Then there was a 
thunderous clamor, they were being charged. The doctor and the others 
ran to meet them, and when they met the sun dissapeared again. The 
breeze turned into a strong gale, and their flag was ripped in half, 
and the stripped from the pole. The other simply was caught up and 
seemingly thrown away to the side. The doctor rammed his bayonet into a 
soldier. The soldier paused but was pulled from the rifle when his 
fellows moved him aside. He parried a swift jab, and pulled the trigger 
striking his opponent in the chest. He lunged forward, and he felt a 
pain in his soldier has he was stabbed. He pulled his sidearm, and 
fired. The shot hit his attacker who fell. He grabbed up a musket and 
fought on, parrying the attempted blows. His chest was sliced open by a 
waved rifle and he toppled back. He froze on the ground for a moment, 
and saw near his hand one of the new repeating rifles. He clutched it, 
and rose up. When he did he was shot in the thigh. He pulled the 
trigger, the shot rammed into the man infront of him. He cocked it 
again, and fired. Wildly he shot until it was empty. They worked their 
way to the edge of a town. They saw the inhabitants scurry into their 
homes, while some men stood on their porches with rifles in hand. 
Suddenly, a flag rose from the enemy, it was a white flag. The fighting 
didn't cease immediately, and the doctor only saw it when he rose from 
a terrible blow to the leg with the end of a musket. They had won, and 
the enemy surrendered. The doctor was relieved, and he sank painfully 
to his knees. He was hurt, but he felt as if he had avenged his 
brother. He limped to the other soldiers. “You, sir, deserve my 
admiration. Your brother would be proud.” A sergeant said. He nodded, 
and when he did stumbled. The sergeant grabbed him from behind to keep 
him up, but his head slumped back onto his shoulder. They buried the 
dead near the battlefield. Nearly forty union soldiers, and fifty 
confederates. The only two graves with actual heads stones are next to 
eachother. One reads: Lt. Bill Thompson 1834-1864 Beloved Soldier and 
Brother The one to the left reads: “Doc” James Thompson 1836-1864 
Beloved Doctor and Brother 


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