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Sons Of Erin
By : Neverseenblue
Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > U2
Views: 1710 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of U2. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. - Chapter List
Bono stood looking out through the early morning fog, the Rappahannock swirling its muddy waters at his feet. Across the river awaited the enemy. He lifted his field glasses to his eyes and could see through the mist their banners hanging limp in the cold morn. He knew them well, had their colors stamped into his brain. A slight breeze kicked up and shifted the banners just enough, and fobriebrief moment he could make out the white and green banner of the 19th Georgia, the Irish brigade, the famed Jackson Guard.
His heart clinched in his chest, as the banner confirmed his worst fear come true. Across the river, lying in wait was the unit his once dear friend commanded. Before the day was over, he would be thrown against him in combat. He balled his right hand into a fist and slammed it into gloved palm of his left hand.
“Damn it to hell!” he muttered vehemently.
“My sentiments exactly,” a voice behind him said.
Bono turned to see his younger brother come up behind him. He was a striking figure in his US Blues with the double row of brass buttons and Lieutenant stripes on his arms. Barely out of West Point and already a Lieutenant, their Mum would have been proud to see him looking so dashing and handsome, Bono thought.
They had the same mother, but different fathers. No two brothers could have looked more dissimilar than the two, Bono short, broad shouldered and powerfully framed, with thick black hair; Larry the younger by nearly 10 years was taller, with a trim muscular built and soft blond hair. The light and the dark their mother had called them. Their only similar feature was their blue eyes.
Now those twin blue eyes stared across to the enemy lines to the low stone wall over looking the bluffs. At any other time it would have seem quaint and pastoral, but today it had a more sinister significance. Its position high on the bluffs and would make it nearly impregnable. They could, and if he read the signs right, would throw wave after wave of attackers against that stone wall and never take it.
“They’re going to throw us against that bloody wall, aren’t they?” Larry remarked his Irish brogue nearly indistinct.
“Aye,” nodded Bono, his accent much more pronounced, but Bono had been older when the two brothers had made their way across the Atlantic escaping the potato famine. Larry had only been seven years old and had lived the last twelve years in America, so it was no surprise that his accent was less Irish.
Bono contemplated whether to he break the rest of the bad news to his brother, he wouldn’t want for him to lose his nerve in the thick of le ale and do something foolish. A man could find himself dead real fast if he lost his wits in battle. Larry had a right to know whom they were facing though, and with a sigh, he handed over the field glasses to him.
“Look down left from the wall,” he said.
Larry watched through the lenses slowly letting them drift along the earthworks and entrenchments wondering what his bother wanted him to see. The breeze once again started up, the flash of green caught his eye, and suddenly he understood. Adam was there.
Slowly he lowered the field glasses, “We both knew it was bound to happen, sooner or latter” he said softly. He looked over at Bono, “You think Dave is with him?”
Bono shook his head, “I don’t know"- You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
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