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Sons Of Erin	By : Neverseenblue Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > U2 Views: 1710 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: 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.

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On Marye’s Heights overlooking Fredericksburg stood a lone re dre dressed in a splendid gray uniform. His gray eyes, once laughing and mirthful, were hard as stone as they watched the small blue figures scurry in their camps. He wondered anew how he had let the fire eaters and hot heads drag them into this dirty business. War was always a dirty, messy, bloody thing. How he hated it. Hated seeing young boys cut down under a rain of lead; did it matter if they were his boys or the Yankee boys? When it came down to the wire they were just kids caught up in the war Machine. As tangled up in the war as he was.

He wondered if he had known about this bloody business before leaving Ireland, would he have ever stepped onto that god forsaken boat? He'd hoped for better than this when he had migrated to the southern states. And for awhile life had been good to him. He liked these southerners, liked the slow easy pace in which they lived their lives. Like the way they accepted him as just another rich young man; unlike the English where bloodlines meant respectability and wealth made by labor was look down upon as something unclean.

Once he left his friends in New York he had spent many years gambling on the river boats up and down the Mississippi and Ohio River where the pockets where deep and the stakes high. He found that these Americans where just as happy to take your money whether you were a high born aristocrats or just a lowly upstart farm boy.

Such things as breeding and classical education did not carry much weight in the south. Riding well, shooting straight, charming the ladies, chivalry, quick wit, holding your liquor, and paying your debts on times was the traits that was looked upo desirabirable. A bit of mystery and a dash of the exotic was appreciated by the ladies, and could open doors that were closed the dull and uninviting Yankees. And Adam’s years as a river boat gambler groomed him well for life as a southern planter and instilled in him the qualities that were looked on favorably by the denizens of this exclusive and wealthy society ruled by King Cotton.

He had been accepted into their numbers and was charmed by their manners and warm hospitality. By the end of the first month he spent in their company he was caught in their golden net, a willing prisoner. By the end of the first year he had found himself married to the daughter of one of the riches planters in the county.

At first he had been appalled to find that his wife’s dowry included, amongst other things, several slaves. Bono, Larry and Dave were also shocked as well. He had every intention of freeing them—could not see himself as a slave owner. It went against everything he believed in. Wasn’t he and his friendeateeated as bad as the Negro when they first got off that ship in New York? And now he was the owner of 15 men and 4 women! But freeing slaves was not as simple as he had believed it was. He just couldn’t sign a paper and send them on their way. So many state laws and petitions, bond money to be put up, red tape to be untangled. And then there was the simple reason of where would these men and women go if he just turned them away with out any knowing any other life than that of slave. How would they find work? Would their employers treat them well, made sure they had the basic necessities, see to their health and well being? Most of them could not even read or write since it had become illegal for their masters to teach them even those basic skills. And so that golden net drew tighter around him, keeping him bound to their traditions.

He did as well as he could; he did free several of them and found secure positions for them up North whenever he could. But he still needed man power to work his own fields and look after his house hold. At first he had thought so little of how much work was needed to pull in a crop of cotton; and the fortune he had amassed while gambling seemed more than enough to start his own plantation. Those 15 men and 4 women had seemed more than enough. He knew better now. When he left his plantation to take on this troop of Irish boys he had at last count 45 souls working for him. Some free and some slaves. He had hired freed blacks when ever possible. But then there was times when he had seen the scares left from whips on the backs of men and women or heard the of of a cruel owner starving his people and not providing medical care or clothing. These he would buy when ever he could, hoping to give them a better life and maybe a chance at freedom when possible.

And his plantation wasn’t even a big one compared to that of his neighbors and his wife’s family that owned nearly a thousand acres with over 200 slaves to tend the fields. Not to mention the skilled labors who did the black-smithing, and the carpentry. Then there was the small army of house servants who did the washing, cooking, cleaning and raising of the young folks. That had surprised Adam. Those black “mammies” with their white charges. How lovingly they had tended to the children of those very same people who held them in bondage. They raised those future salve-owners with a firm but gentle hand. And years latter, after they had been weaned and were no longer in the nursery room they looked fondly on their black mammies and nurse-maids but never lifted a hand to free them.

Of course now with this cursed war on their backs there was little, if any, chance of seeing them free. Wasn’t that what he and his neighbors were fighting for? That right to own another man? Adam shook his head. Not sure how he came to be tied up in this mess. At first it had seemed too unreal to him and frankly not his problem. At heart he could not think of himself as an American, always deep down inside thought of himself as an outsider. His wife’s family had treated him well, and loved him like a son, trusted him with the happiness and well being of their oldest child. When war broke out he had did what he felt was his duty to his adopted land, even if he had felt they were foolish rushing off to rebellion. He sent in money to the Confederate government, and bought war-bonds even though he could scarcely afford it, mortgaged to the hilt as he was and depending on the next crop to keep him in the black.

He supplied the local regiments with uniforms, blankets, guns and bullets. His wife and her friends had organized the bandage rolling clubs and knitted socks and scarves for their “brave lads in gray.” They went to the charity bazaars and looked after the war widows and their children. But even that was not enough.

One humid evening, early in May fate came to call. It had been a long day, Adam had spent most of it in the saddle ridding the fields, and working along side his own workers to shore up the budding young cotton plants, made repairs to fence, and over saw the addition of new stalls on the barn. He had came in late for dinner hot, sweaty and dirty wanting nothing more than a long hot soak and glass of good whiskey to ease his aching muscles. But he had barely had time to remove his boots when his friend and neighbor, Roy, was shown into his library.

“What brings you out here?” Adam asked, pouring him a glass of whiskey. It might be a while before he could bath but at least he could have a drink, judging by the grim look in Roy’s eyes he felt like he was going to need it.

“The war, what else would bring me out here at this time of night.” His friend said, sounding amused as he accd thd the tumbler from Adam.

“I was afraid you’ll say that” replied Adam.

Roy had received his Education at West Point, though he turned down a career in the army preferring the life of a plantation owner to that of a military officer. But when the war broke out Roy was one of the first to volunteer; put all that military education to good use as he called it; and was quickly made a colonel in the Confederate Army. Now he stood in Adam’s study looking dashing in his gray uniform and Adam was wondering just how much money the confederates wanted this time.

“I’ll be blunt with you Adam,” Roy said looking grim “What we need now more than money is good Officers in the field. We’re forming a new regiment, and my commanding general has asked to find a man to lead them. I can not think of any one better suited to the task than you, Adam.”

Adam was shocked, as he stared mutely at Roy he felt the icy fingers of fate trickling down his neck. So it had came to this, his money was not enough now, now they demanded his very blood for their glorious cause.

Adam shook his head, “You must be mistake Roy, I am not a military man, and I do not have any experience with soldiering.”

“All that can be learned, Adam, and I’ll be the one guiding you until you are ready to take command.”

“I am not a leader, Roy; I have not the qualities you are looking for.”

“You are better suited than you believe. What’s more is that this new regiment is an all Irish one. The boys will follow one of their own more loyally than naught.”
Adam said nothing, not trusting himself, angered by the fact they would use the heritage of his birth for their cause.

Roy saw the steely look come into Adam’s eyes and felt that maybe he had went to far, “Think it over tonight, and tomorrow right out with me to where we have the men camped. Look them over and see how you feel about taking command of them,” and with that he turned and left Adam’s study disappearing into the purple twilight.

The next morning Adam had indeed ridden out with his neighbor too look over this new troop of Irish lads who were, is seemed, so willing to shed their blood for this land. What he found surprised him. They were a motley group, most of them between the ages of 16 and 24 though there were a few older men sprinkled through out. Some of them he knew, young men who he had taken under his wing so to say—a few of them were the sons of the Irish shopkeepers in town. He couldn’t quite understand just what motivated these men to fight. For some they truly believed they were fighting for a new country, other it was simply for the excitement and adventure.

But what ever the reason they had joined up Roy had made it plain that if they did not get a good leader, one who would lead them well and look after their best interest they would end up being cannon fodder. Adam hadn’t forgotten how the Irish was treated, either up north or here in the south, he remembered well how he and his friends were treated as second class citizens. Even now that he had found his place and was accepted and well respected by most there was still those how would look down their nose at him. These fellow country men of his would be sorely used in the wrong hands.

On that scorching hot Georgia day Adam joined the war effort not for glory or noble causes, but out of a sense of duty to the displaced men of his birth. He would go to war if they asked him and look after these boys. He owed it not to the south but to the sweet rolling hill of the country of his birth, Erin.
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Sons Of Erin