*~*Gerard's POV*~*

As the sun was meeting the horizon, we started to slow down but didn't show any signs of actually stopping. We had made it without running into any other soldiers or camps, and I started to wonder if there was anyone around here. Maybe we were that one camp the government kept sending around and made us busy but we weren't actually used for fighting, just a waste of money. It seemed like something I'd read in a book once.
My feet were aching with all the walking, but I knew better than to complain. I wished I was an officer just so I could have a horse, the only reason. I didn't want the responsibility with it, having to decide if the battle was worth it, or have to figure out what to do with the dead after a battle, or plan moving. I didn't want any of that, I just wanted an excuse not to have to walk for many hours. I made a mental note to write about that in a letter to Lindsey, she would probably find it funny.
"You've been awfully quiet," Ray said to Jared, breaking into my thoughts. I looked over at the two of them, and saw Jared shrug. "You're usually quite the social butterfly, what happened to that?"
Jared shrugged again, and looked like he was going to say something but thought better of it. I can't say it's been bad that he's been quiet, I did like not having to constantly answer his questions, but it wasn't much better him being quiet. It made you wonder what was going on in his mind.
"What's there to talk about?" I asked Ray and he turned to face me. "We've been stuck walking for hours and we see each other everyday. It's not like back home where we'd just pass each other briefly and then have dinners on Friday. It's obvious Jared won't tell us about his past, just saying he's been to prison a lot, and that once I helped him out and not sure it was a bright idea considering he keeps going back."
Jared chuckled from where he was walking, "I keep getting out, too."
"He speaks!" Ray said with a dramatic gesture, and I cracked a smile. "I never thought I'd be so glad to hear you speak."
"I don't know whether I'm insulted or not," Jared said quietly, his eyes forward. "I think we're about to stop."
I followed his line of sight and saw General Christopher looking over his shoulder, and his gaze landing on Jared before he turned back around. I looked around where we were. It appeared to be a little valley, hill walls on every side. The ground was rather grassy, with dirt spots scattered about. It wasn't as messy as the other camp, which I found to be really good. I didn't like stepping into mud puddles while moving about. I had to clean my boots many times.
The covered wagons carrying the supplies all slowed to a stop and this time when I looked forward, General Christopher was facing us.
"Gentlemen, welcome to the new base camp. Every tent needs to be set up as soon as possible, Private Desrosiers has a sheet with everyone's assignments. Work quickly, otherwise you'll be up all night doing this, and expected to be attending to your duties tomorrow as well. Good luck."
"He's not helping?" I asked Ray, shocked. "That's ridiculous, if he wants it set up so quickly, he should have to help."
"Don't question him," Jared said, and grabbed my arm and started pulling me towards Desrosiers, who was one of Pierre's friends, David. He was an okay guy, I didn't know much about him aside from that he was a good singer.
"Jared not complaining about something? Who is this man?" Ray asked, faking his surprise. I chuckled, and Jared rolled his eyes at the two of us and let go of my arm, pushing past the group of men. I hope he was getting our assignments, too. I didn't feel like pushing past everyone.
Some of the men kept pushing at Ray and I, trying to move past us to get to a wagon and start unloading. I glared at them, but once they sent a look back I looked away, slightly scared. For the most part, they were all bigger than me, and I didn't want to pick a fight. I hoped I didn't have to work alongside one of them, I'd be afraid that they would 'accidentally' drop something on me, or something so they could get rid of me, because who would miss one, simple lawyer?
Jared pushed his way back out of the crowd and came towards us, grinning, "We have to set up Christopher's tent first, then sleeping quarters, then help with whatever, or not." Jared shrugged. "It's that wagon we need to go to first, the one Pierre's at."
I noticed the group that was unloading the wagon wasn't any of the bigger men, and I had mixed feelings about that. For the most part, we were all weak when it came to lifting heavy things, and I wondered if whoever set up the list did that on purpose. I hopped into the back of the wagon where Jeff, a balding fellow that would following Pierre around, and was one helluva shot, and started to lift things out with his help for the ones outside to carry to the spot.
"Oi, how much is left in there?" Pierre called and I looked in the wagon. There was a crate still left, probably the tarp.
"Just one, hold your horses," Jeff said and we made our way to the crate and started pushing it to the opening. It was heavier than I expected, and Jeff called out to the people outside to move incase it fell. It landed on the ground with a thud and thankfully the crate didn't break. Jeff and I stood in the wagon still as the group below tried to figure out the best way to transport it to the spot.
"Where's the spot at?" I asked, jumping down and moving next to Ray.
"Right there," Ray said, pointing to a spot relatively close. There were a few people already setting some of the posts up for the tarp to go over.
"Not so far," I said and everyone started pushing the crate.
"You didn't carry those posts over, you can't say it's not far," Ray said and I chuckled, because he was right. If it was the other way around I'd say the same thing.
"Push you idiots," Pierre yelled, and together the five of us started to push the crate over to the spot. I agreed with Ray, it was a longer distance than it looked when something needed to be transported from one side to another. My body started to ache from pressing against the crate, and I switched how I was doing it, relieving some of the discomfort.
We were about three quarters of the way over when I heard the noise of guns sounding in the distance, but still pretty close. I stiffened, and I saw a majority of the other soldiers present do the same. No one moved for a moment, stopping their jobs whether it be to set up posts, unload, transport materials, or anything else, and looked around as the sounds got closer.
"Ambush!" A voice yelled from somewhere, and that got everyone moving again. I looked to Ray, silently asking him where our guns were. He looked around and started running towards the wagon we had just left, sprinting. There were guns scattered around the wagon, and we picked ours up, or what we thought were ours, although it didn't matter. They were all the same.
I looked over the hills to the south, and saw men in grey uniforms on horses and on foot, running down the hill with their guns raised. I started panicking. I wasn't a fighter, I just wasn't. There was shouting from both sides of the fight, everyone yelling and running to get their guns, or to run to battle positions. I spotted Pierre and started to follow him since he was one of the more experienced soldiers in my regiment. He stopped, close to the front line of the fight, and raised his gun and pulled the trigger. I followed the direction of his gun and saw an officer go down and fly off his horse, the horse running wild. Pierre pulled down his gun and quickly started to reload it and I couldn't help but watch. I watched soldiers from both sides go down, someone just a few people away from me stumbled back, his hand holding his gut.
"Don't just stand there, Way," Pierre yelled next to me as he raised his gun back up. I did the same, but shot without looking where I was aiming. I'm pretty sure I missed whoever my gun was pointing at, but I pulled it down quickly without looking, just in case, and started to reload. "You have to shoot with your eyes open," Pierre said in a condescending tone, one which would make me laugh in training, but this wasn't training. It was the real deal and I was scared beyond belief.
I raised my gun up the same time as Pierre and tried focusing in on a soldier on the other side, he was running closer, his sword raised. He wasn't coming at me, but he definitely had a target in mind. I pulled the trigger, and I saw him stagger back. When I looked, I had hit his shoulder, red staining the part of the uniform. It was his sword arm, and his sword fell out of his hands. Pierre noticed next to me and aimed his gun at the man and finished him off. I looked down at my gun and started to reload, one of the few things involving warfare I was good at.
Someone pulled on my arm and started dragging me to the back of the line. I pulled out of his grip and turned to see who it was. It was Jared.
"What are you doing?" He yelled over the sound of shots being fired. I moved so I was next to him and not in front of him with my back to the enemy. I kept my gun down, but my finger was on the trigger.
"I'm sewing, what does it look like you asshole?" I yelled in response. Jared frowned and I noticed he didn't have his gun, or even a sword on him. "Where's your weapon?"
"I can't fight," Jared yelled.
I turned my attention back to the fight and raised my gun to shoot at a Confederate who made it past the first line of defense. I missed him and Jared yanked the gun out of my hand, quickly reloaded it and aimed at the guy, hitting him in the middle of the forehead. "Why don't you fight exactly?" I asked in shock, reloading my gun while I waited for a response.
"I don't have my gun or any form of weaponry. Christopher confiscated them after I yelled back at one of his precious officers before we left camp. He's an idiot." Jared sounded casual, aside from the yelling, but he didn't sound concerned about the fighting.
"Why don't you go use your skills and steal a gun?" I asked, but Jared stole my gun from my hands as soon as I finished the question. "I didn't mean mine!"
"Do you really want to shoot?" Jared asked seriously, and raised my gun up and took a shot. I saw someone go down on the other side, again, and I wasn't into all the bloodshed. I shook my head and helped Jared reload the gun.
"Go and find a gun on the ground somewhere, I think Stump went down at the beginning, his gun should still be there unless someone took it."
"Why don't you go get it?" I asked, not liking the idea of stealing a dead man's gun. I didn't want to go look for his body, I didn't want to see anyone dead.
"Because I'm actually a good shot. You go get his gun and powder, and come back," Jared reasoned and I really couldn't argue.
"Where's his body?" I asked and Jared quickly pointed to the right of him, and I started running, looking at the ground for Patrick's dead body. There weren't a lot, at least not in this little area, and I found his body. Blood was leaking out of his chest and staining his uniform. His eyes were wide open, his jaw slack. I reached forward and closed his eyes, whispering a small prayer before pulling away his gun and powder.
"Goodbye Patrick, you were a good man," I whispered, unheard by all the commotion of the battle. I ran back to Jared, slinging the powder carrier over my shoulder. Jared had moved forward, closer to the front lines, and I went up to him.
"Get back," Jared ordered, and I shook my head, raising my gun and aiming, my hands a little shaky, and I shot. Nothing happened, as I expected. "I don't want you up here," Jared yelled. "You have a family to live for, I don't. It doesn't matter if I die, I'll just go back to jail anyways."
His compassion was unexpected, and he kept looking forward and down at his gun when he had to reload. I didn't say anything, just mimicking his actions. Someone next to me went down and I was almost afraid to look, thinking it could be Ray. I glanced down and was glad to see it wasn't Ray, but instead it was one of the guys who would treat everyone like filth. He was a good shot, but his personality was hard to deal with.
"I think they're retreating!" Pierre yelled at the two of us as he made their way closer. He was clutching his shoulder as he walked, but quickly let go to raise his gun up. "See? The officers are running for the hills."
"Or they could be going to fetch another round of soldiers they have hidden somewhere," Jared said. He was clearly Mister Optimistic.
I looked up and started watching some of the Confederates. Some were definitely running back to the hills, carrying injured friends between them. There were still a lot advancing towards us, but slowly those numbers started to decrease. Someone on our side of the battle yelled really loudly and a majority of soldiers ran forward, their bayonets sticking out. I ducked out of the way of soldiers running past me, scared of being stabbed.
Pierre tried running forward, but I pulled him back. "You're going to the nurse, you idiot. You don't need to get an infection."
"Go to Ray, shoulders are his specialty," Jared said with a grim smile.
"I can't just abandon the fight," Pierre argued, but I wasn't buying it.
"I will drag you to wherever the medics are set up if that's what it takes. Do you want to die of infection?"
"Gerard's right. Is it really worth to kill a few Confederates then die of infection? Gerard and I have them, don't worry." Pierre turned and ran towards what was the basics of our new camp to find a medic of some sort. I wondered if Ray was back there now, or if he was fighting, and if he was, if he was okay.
"So now you're letting me fight?" I asked Jared jokingly as he started to advance ourselves, a slower pace than everyone else.
"You wouldn't have listened to me anyways, you're too proud."
Our conversation ended there as we made it closer to all the guns being fired. I almost tripped over a dead body since I didn't take my eyes off of the fight. Jared caught me by the back of my jacket and pulled me up before I met with the ground.
I said a quiet thank you and glanced down quickly at the body. He was in a Confederate uniform, which would explain why I wouldn't recognize him. Jared left my side as I studied the body and I heard him do his own attempt at a battle cry, and I looked up and saw him stabbing whatever he could with the bayonet at the end of his rifle. I backed up a little, raising my gun as I noticed a Confederate charging towards me. I aimed as best I could, and pulled the trigger.
The body went down with just my shot.
I almost dropped my gun, the thought hitting me. It was slightly different before, I had only hit him in somewhere none lethal (minus possible infection), and Pierre had finished him off. This time, though, I murdered a man with a single shot.