Fog of War

by Teal

Chapter 1

Fog of War
By
Teal

Chapter 1

The sound of battle echoed around them, as the misty gray smoke covered the field in front. Sounds of rifle fire could be heard, as the distant roar of cannons ring in the air. But despite all of these horrible sounds, the men of the 220th Pennsylvania Volunteer Regiment stood tall and ready, as they waited for the onslaught to come. Their blue uniforms were clean and spotless, yet it had the small hint of ware, that could only be gained in a fight. The taters on the cloth showed the experience gained by every man in the regiment. Holes and rips could be seen, made by the waves of battle, while their boots were worn and battered, after the long marches made by the regiment. Their rifles were held steadily, by hands that have been trained and drilled to do so, as they waited for the orders to use them. The sound of battle would have frightened any man, who had not been to battle before, but the boys of the 220th held their ground and stayed calm. They have been through battle before and today was no different. Although they looked tired and weary, their eyes wanting to close as their muscles ache, their spirits wanted nothing but to fight. These were some of the most experienced men in the Union army and no matter what happens they will fight.

Their officers kept the line straight, making sure that there were no gaps, as they stood and wait. The line of men, who stood on the field, were the weary few who were left. A few months ago, there were more men who composed the ranks of the many. But they were slowly reduced, because of the cruel nature of war. This group of four hundred men and officers have gone through combat and had formed a bond that could never be broken. They experienced and lived through the same horrors and shall die together as one, when the time comes.

Leading these men was a tall and thin man from Pennsylvania named Colonel Newman. Unlike other Union Colonels, Newman wore a black Confederate Cavalry officer’s hat, which he picked up during the regiment’s first engagement. He took the hat, when enemy cavalry charged them head on, only to be stopped by his men. He then started wearing it, as a testimony to his regiment’s accomplishment. This also made his regiment happy, since it showed how proud their colonel was about the regiment. Whenever they saw the Union officer wearing a Confederate hat, the automatically knew that it was their colonel.

Newman, like most of the men in the regiment, joined this fighting force when it was first mustered. Only six months ago, then men with him were a rag tag group of volunteers who hardly knew how to fire a rifle, let alone fight. Being an officer in the army, Newman knew that he had to train them and train them quick. Yet, at the same time, he had to be patient with them. He knew that being on a soldier’s good side was one of the things needed to become a good officer. An officer needs to be trusted by his men, not hated. So he treated the men like his own, guiding them, while at the same time reprimanding their mistakes. He thought them what he knew and trained them till they were experts with the rifle and bayonet. Like many officers in the Union army, he managed to turn a group of sloppy men to a deadly fighting machine.

When the time of battle came, the men followed his orders and did not hesitate to execute them. The fierce and savage battles they have encountered further strengthened the bond, making Newman a father figure for the regiment. Now they stood in a field once more, ready to face the enemy in another battle.

As the sound of rifle fire intensified, Newman squint his eyes and looked at the battle in front of him. His regiment was assigned to hold the center, as the enemy forces advance upon them. Positioned in front of them, firing long range shots, was a company of sharpshooter, from the 1st United States Sharpshooters. Their silhouettes could be seen through the smoke, as the green coated men took pot shots at the advancing enemy.

But Newman noticed that the silhouettes were getting closer and closer, till he saw the sharpshooters race through the smoke. They turned around to fire, once in a while, before falling back towards them. This was a sign that the enemy was advancing closer towards them, since the sharpshooters were ordered to avoid hand to hand combat.

But the sharpshooters soon gave up on this tactic of fire and retreat and decided to sprint towards them. One of the sharpshooters, a man younger the Newman yet older than most of his soldiers, shouted as he ran. Seeing that the man had a sword dangling from his waist, Newman concluded that this must be their company commander.

“One regiment, coming in fast!” He shouted towards them. He and his men soon joined the ranks of the 220th, while the officer headed towards Newman.

“Sir…” He said as he saluted Newman with one hand and held his rifle with the left hand. “…Captain Wilson, sir.”

Newman saluted back, as he looked at Capt. Wilson and studied him. He seemed to be the common age for Captains, not to young and not to old. Seeing how this war was going, Newman knew that Wilson would at least make Colonel before it is over.

“Got anything to report Captain?” He asked.

“Yes, sir.” He said, before pointing towards the thick cloud of smoke that lay in front of the regiment. “There is an entire regiment of rebels coming this way. I counted at least five hundred, but they seem inexperienced to me, seeing that their taking their time to get here. It’s only now that they decided to pick up the pace. From what I’m seeing, those are raw recruits, but a lot of them. At least we took some of them down for you, sir.”

Newman nodded and smiled. Giving the Captain a pat on the back, he pointed towards a small rise just behind the regiment. It was too small for the regiment to use, but it was a perfect place to position a company of sharpshooters.

“Good job, Captain…” He said. “…but I think I still require your services. You see that small rise over there? I would like you to position your men there, so they can support my regiment.”

Studying the rise, the Captain smiled with glee and nodded. “Yes, sir. It looks like a perfect place to pick off some rebels.” With that, the Captain saluted Newman before gathering his men and sprinted towards the small rise.

“Seems like we’re in for a fight, Colonel, sir.” A man from behind said. Turning around, Newman saw the face of Sgt. Johnson, the regiment’s color sergeant. “Five hundred men, whew. That’s going to be a tough one, sir. One hundred more men than we have.”

Newman looked at the man he trusted the most, who held the stars and stripes, which was worn out and had bullet holes, and was in charge of guarding it with his life. Sgt. Johnson was one of the men who helped him in the early days of the regiment and was also the one he entrusted most of the orders with. He was also the Colonel’s best friend, also being the one to help him in troubled times. Newman trusted the Sergeant with his life, so it was not surprising when Jonson was chosen to be the color sergeant.

“That may be, but you heard the Captain, they’re raw recruits. So let us welcome them to the horrors of war.” He said, grinning.

The sound of drums could soon be heard, through the sound of gun, as the earth below them started to shake. It shook from the steps taken by the enemy, who was advancing towards them and was only concealed by the fog of war, the smoke the lay in between them. It felt stronger and stronger as the drums beat louder and louder. From experience, Newman and his regiment knew that the enemy would soon reveal themselves.

“Alright boys!” Newman shouted, as he pulled out his saber from his scabbard. “Fire by company and show them how we Pennsylvanians fight!” This was met by a short, yet loud, cheer, as the men got ready. Newman heard the individual company commanders prepare their men, as they waited for the enemy.

“Present arms!” A Captain said, as the sound of the rifles echoes through their ranks. The familiar sound was like music to his ears. Soon every company had their rifles presented, waiting for the order to fire.

Looking through the smoke of gunpowder, that was now starting to clear, Newman could see the first signs of the enemy. Soldiers, dressed in gray uniforms and holding their rifles, marched at double time, as the drums urged them forward.

Bang!

The sudden roar of riffles firing at once, created a loud roaring sound across the regiments line. A wall of bullets flew towards their enemy, who barely had time to form a proper line of battle in front of them. The smoke from the rifles flew in front of them, creating a temporary wall that blocked the view of the enemy. Immediately, the men began reloading their rifles, taking out a paper cartridge and pouring its contents in the gun. Using the ramrod to shove the bullets in, before cocking the rifle’s hammer, aiming the gun and firing it at the target. This was all done in a fast paced motion, as the sound of ramrods going in barrels and rifles being cocked filled the air. Months of practice have trained the men with this system, till it was indoctrinate in their heads. But the taste of combat showed them how to do this while under fire.

Officers encouraged their men and pointing out targets, as they waved their sabers and shot with their revolvers. This was a system that works for every Union regiment; this was the system of a fighting force.

But the sound of guns firing was not the only noise that filled the air that day. Once the enemy regiment formed up, they began to shoot back. Their bullets hit a few men that got in its way, causing them to scream in pain, as the bullet tore through their flesh and broke a bone. The scream of agony echoed on both sides, as men from the regiment and the enemy started to fall, soaking the grass with blood.

But the enemy regiment, being new and ill experienced, was disorganized and confused, as they confronted battle for the first time. Their fire was sporadic and although they hit a couple of men, the shots was barely deadly.

Compared to the fire of the 220th, which cut down their ranks and broke their lines, the enemy was ineffective. Their men soon started to fall back, as their comrades were gunned down by superior fire. They started to run back to their lines, as their officers urged them to reform the line. But the voices of their commanders were left unheeded, as the men ran away.

One man, holding the regimental flag, tried to urge the other back. But he was struck down by a bullet and fell to the ground. His hands held tightly on the flag, till another soldier took it and retreated. Newman could help but feel sorry for the enemy, knowing that brave men from both sides had to shed blood for someone to win.

As the enemy begun to fall back, cheers of joy ran through the ranks of the regiment, as they watched their foe run away from them. “That’s right, go run away!” A soldier cried out, as he shook his rifle at them.

“Alright, keep the men in order.” Newman said, as he scanned the field in front of him. The field was once more covered in smoke, as the sounds of cannon balls flying and exploding can be heard in the distance. More rifle fire could be heard from both of their flanks, stating that the fighting there was getting intense. Newman knew that the fighting was not over. They were going to come back, this time with more force. “I want all rifles reloaded; we don’t know what would hit us next.”

His orders were immediately followed, as soldiers begun reloading their rifles, shoving another bullet and cocking the hammer. Soon the entire regiment was ready, ready for another shot at the enemy.

Scanning left to right, he saw his men with arm’s shouldered and waiting for his command. Some of the wounded were moved away towards the back, so that they wouldn’t get hit again. They would later be treated and sent to a medical tent, since there were no men to spare for stretcher bearers.

“Colonel, sir!” Sgt. Johnson shouted. Newman immediately looked towards him and noticed Johnson pointing towards the front. So when Newman looked that way, his eyes met another wave of enemy soldiers that was heading towards them.

But this time it was different. Looking towards the enemy, Newman noticed that they move faster and in an organized formation. Their uniform looked worn, just like theirs, while their faces showed no fear. Newman soon realized that this was a new regiment. A regiment more experienced and ready to fight. Their flag, torn up just like his regiment’s, flew up above and showed of the battles it survived.

As the enemy got closer, an officer waved his saber and pointed it towards them. He then charged with full force, which was soon followed by the rest of the regiment. Although this regiment was smaller, compared to the earlier one, they were also deadlier. They knew how to fight and they were not afraid to show it.

They charged at great speed, like lightning through a stormy sky, as they closed the distance. As they charged, they let out a high pitched yell, which would scare any veteran soldiers. It was the ‘Rebel yell’. The yell that frightened anyone to the bone and sent a chill down once spine. The yell that broke moral and sent men running.

But Newman was going to have none of that. He told his men to hold easy, and ordered them to wait for his command to fire. He watched as the enemy charge with ferocity and grace. The came with bayonets ready and rifles loaded. They were planning to go head on in hand to hand combat. But Newman was planning to disappoint them, by sending a wall of bullets once they got close. Like a kick of a donkey, it would send them back.

As the enemy approached, the misty smoke of rifle fire, from the regiment to their left, blew in front of them. It blocked his, and everyone else’s, view of the enemy. This meant that the only way to judge their distance was from the sound of their steps and yell, which wasn’t very effective.

This annoyed Newman, who knew that the regiment was facing life or death. But he knew that he could do nothing about it.

Newman closed his eyes and concentrated. He could hear the yell become louder and louder, till it felt like it was in front of them. Opening his eyes, he waved his saber and gave the order. “Fire!” He shouted, as another tremendous cloud of smoke covered their view. He then heard the sound of rifles frantically reloading, as they waited for the enemy to emerge from the mist. Readying his saber, he waited to stab the first man to come out.

But none came. He waited, with great anxiety, for any sign of the enemy, but it surprised him that none emerged. Even the yell have stopped, while the shaking of the earth disparaged. It was like the enemy flew away and vanished. But that couldn’t be possible. This was a trick. A trick by the enemy.

A short breeze blew the smoke away, clearing their field of view. As it did, Newman, and the regiment, was surprised to see that the enemy was gone. The regiment charging towards them disappeared and was replaced by a forest, which had its trees riddled by the bullets they fired.

Everyone looked around in confusion, when they noticed that the regiments flanking them were gone too. The sound of battle was replaced by a quiet calmness, like the one of a peaceful time, while the scars of war could not be seen. It truly was a confusing situation.

“What happened?” Newman asked himself, as he looked around in disbelief.

Author's Note:

The 220th Pennsylvania is an imaginary regiment. No such unit served under that name, at least I don't think so. The battle depicted in the start also does not exist, it was just something my imagination conjured up.

Comments

[The Space Butterfly]

This is... actually a really great concept.

[Tik-Tok-deerpony]

your right. there was only 215 pennsylvania regiments.

[Tali_The_Lamia]

If you wanted a famous Pennsylvania regiment, go for the 71st, 69th, 72th, and/or 106 Pennsylvania Regiment.

Pennsylvania Regiments were known to be the most stubborn of Union Regiments. Atleast in my studys.

[brony114]

This is an awesome start to what I suspect to be an awesome fic.