Soldier-at-Arms

“GET DOWN!!” I shout over the gunfire, ducking into a trench. Bullets whizzed past my head as cannonfire blasted all around me and my regiment

“Captain, what are your orders?!” I hear a soldier ask. I look around at my men, nodding affirmatively.

“Take five men to the back to check on our wounded! The rest of you, push on to the last breath! Those Confederate fucks won’t win this war if we have a say in it!” The men whoop and holler. I grab my sabre, clutching it my hand tightly. I feel a hand on my shoulder. When I look back, I see my tentmate John kneeling next to me. He’s five foot six, thin but athletic build, and his left eye was missing, replaced by a cybernetic enhancement that fit snugly into his eye socket.

“To think we’ll finally win this war after 200 years! It’s about time!” He yells over the gunfire. I laugh.

“I agree! It’s been too long since we’ve had any kind of peace! You ready to end it all? We’ve trained all our lives to fight this war!”

He nods, and we both grin. “For the Union!” I grab my laser revolver and charge into the line of fire, with John right behind me, and my men behind him.

The year is 2068. In 1861, my great-great-great-great grandfather fought the beginning of this bicentennial war. My father died fighting this war, as did his father, and his father before him. My name is Captain James Davis, leader of the 390th Regiment, Kentucky Cavalry. I lead a group of 50 of the finest soldiers God has ever placed on this Earth. The Union and Confederacy have been fighting all this time, and neither side really remembers why anymore. All we know is war, and everyone is a soldier. It wasn’t uncommon to see children as young as 15, and even women fighting in this war. But, we follow our orders. We don’t question. And we fight and win, or die. There was no defeat.

As I reach No Man’s Land, gunfire picks up. But the Union had much better firearms. I yell a battle cry and fire my revolver at the trenchline, the screams of both sides echoing in my ears. My blasts land each target, boring a hole in the heads of those poor sons of bitches.

“Keep pushing, Men! We’re winning!” I raise my sabre as we reach their trench, and I dive-tackle one of them, driving my blade through him. I fire my pistol at three other men as my group catches up.

“You getting slow in your old age?” I laugh as John jumps into the trench next to me, firing his light musket at a confederate that I hadn't seen.

“You must be getting slow already. You’re only 19!” He laughs.

“And yet I’m your Captain!”

“The General just prefers blondes!” He retorts. I laugh and rip my blade from the dead soldier’s chest. Finally, the battlefield dulls to silence.

The men cheer loudly, firing their weapons into the air. I climb out of the trench and fire my pistol in the air with a loud crash like thunder, making them all fall silent instantly.

“We may have won this battle, but the War isn’t won until that Confederate bastard pulling the strings signs that peace treaty! You all did well today. You were quick! Efficient! And we took care of them with few injuries! Scavenge what you can, then we’ll go back to town to celebrate!”

They cheer my name, filling my heart with pride. These are good people. I couldn’t ask for a better regiment.

I sit on the muddy trench side, my Union uniform getting soaked and dirty. It’s amazing that these are the same uniform styles as our ancestors before us… Any armor would be too heavy for the work we do.

John hops up and sits next to me. He hands me a bottle of 1967 whiskey.

“Oh, John. You remembered.” I tease. He shoves me and laughs.

“Just shut your trap and drink. It’s a good brand. Those fuckers might be the enemy, but they sure know how to brew a good whiskey.”

He pulls out his tin cup, and I pour him some. I clink the bottle with his glass and take a big swig.

“Aaah. Bitter, but good. Really puts the hairs on your chest.” He slaps my back and downs his cup.

I take off my cap and ruffle my long, unkempt blonde hair. It falls to rest on my mid-back. John chuckles.

“You need a bath, Captain.” He chuckles.

“And you need a dentist.” I shoot back.

We share a good laugh. John was in his early 40s, and he and I grew close when we were put in the same battalion a few years back. He was a second lieutenant, and I was just a grunt, as they called us. Fresh from the school. Then, I was promoted from grunt to Captain after I took a bullet for the General of the Union Army, General Talius Ford the Fifth. I was the first ever grunt to receive such an unusual honor, and John used to loathe me being a higher rank at only 17. Then, last year, I was leading a small scouting mission through enemy territory for intel when a firefight broke out. John was hit in the head, and I thought I had lost him. But I dragged him nearly fifteen miles back to base camp, where they told me he was alive and they could save him since the bullet never hit his brain.

After John recovered and heard of what I did, I earned his respect, and he became my best friend. And he’s been by my side since.

After the men had looted whatever we could find, we marched back towards our base, with me in the front.

When we finally got back to our camp, I’m surprised to see a messenger on horseback. He was clearly from the Union, and he was a first lieutenant. He climbs off his auburn-colored cavalry horse and looked around.

“You there, young man. Where is your commanding officer?” He asks, his handlebar moustache twitching.

I clear my throat, glancing over at John. He chuckles silently and nods.

“Do you think something’s funny?” The messenger asks, sounding offended.

I step right up to the annoying man and punch him hard in the stomach, making him drop to his knees, clutching his midsection.

“You ought to learn your place, Lieutenant, when you’re talking to your superior.” I can hear John starting to lose it, and I’m starting to falter a little too, holding back a laugh. Even the men suppressed their laughter.

The man looks up to me, and his eyes widen. “Oh! C-Captain Davis!” He leaps to his feet, saluting shakily. “I-I didn’t recognise you, sir!”

I raise an eyebrow, really messing with him now. “You didn’t recognise the rank clearly on my uniform?” I gesture to the navy blue bar on my chest with four gold bars sitting vertically, two on each side.

“I-I’m sorry, Captain Davis! It won’t happen again!”

“See that it doesn’t. Now, you have a message for me?”

He fumbles with his bag, pulling out a letter. He hands it to me.

I take it and examine it. It was from the President of the Terran States.
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Now, get out of my sight.” I say coldly. He nods, salutes a second time, scrambles onto his horse, and rides off.

One he was far enough away, I burst into laughter. Everyone else soon joins me.

“Alright, men! Enjoy your rest!” I head back to my tent and sit at my desk. I tear open the letter carefully and read it over.

And over.

And over again, not believing what I was reading.

John walks in, taking off his cap. “Captain, what’s it say? If I may ask.”

“I’m….being promoted…”

“That’s great to hear! I’ll alert the men to address you as Major from now on!”

“Not Major….Colonel….”

“What?! They’ve promoted you three times?! I know we’ve been out of contact with the States for a year now, but...three promotions?!”

“The President thinks that it would look good for his campaign. I was supposed to me a Major, but apparently I’m popular amongst the voters.” I pull a blue bar with an eagle with a crossed sabre and olive branch on it.

“That’s...great! But...Pardon me saying so, but it feels like a cop out, doesn’t it?”

“I agree. But, I can’t deny a gift from the President…”

I take my Captain bar off my uniform and put on the new rank. He stands at attention and salutes.I stand up and salute back.

“The men will be glad to hear the news, Ca-I mean, Colonel.” He leaves. I chuckle and sit back at my desk, reading the letter over and over again.

“Damn it, Dad…..” I crumple the letter and toss it into the wastebasket.