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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.

Chapter List
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The sound of an approaching rider cut into his thoughts, and Adam turned to see Lt. Sandy Pendleton, General Jackson’s personal aid-de-camp, riding up to where he stood. The man, hardly more than a boy, with his blond hair and sharp blue eyes reminded him so much of Larry. Good God he hopes Larry was still safely tucked away at West point. He knew Bono would be out there some wheith ith the Union Army, but hoped that his gambler’s luck would hold and he would not have to confront him in war. But Larry, good lord, he couldn’t have been any older than Lt. Pendleton. Adam could hardly think of Larry as grown into a man now, would for ever think of him as that impish little child with the merry eyes and a flashing grin. Could not think of him as one of those disciplined career soldiers, those grim unsmiling young men.

Without dismounting Lt. Pendleton quickly saluted and said, “Colonel Clayton, General Jackson requests your presence, sir.”

Adam returnee sae salute and nodded to Lt. Pendleton, “Inform the General I will be with him shortly.”

Lt. Pendleton nodded, spurred his horse and rode back to the main camp where General Stonewall Jackson had set up his headquarters. With a sigh Adam turned and made his way back to where his men had set up their own camp to fetch his horse.

Adam passed Dave sitting a bit away from the rest of the men and a sudden chill passed over Adam at the sight of Dave. The look in Dave's eyes was ghastly; it was the look of a man already dead. He was so changed from the happily married man Adam once knew. His very presence was strange, fey like, even the other men kept their distance from him.
There was an aura of death that lingered on Dave; it unnerved the other men. It was as if he were already beyond the shade, even though he walked among them.

Dave was a crack shot, and now when he took aim down the long barrel of his Enfield rifle his eyes burned with a cold fire and he shot with an air of remoteness that was chilling to see.

Adam couldn’t fathom the changes in his friend. Once he was a sweet youth who could never harm a living soul. Before the war he had scolded Adam for keeping slaves—preferring to work the small farm he and his wife had bought with just a few of his wife’s cousins for help. They made a decent income and Dave had seemed madly in love and contented with life. He often remarked to Adam how much he was enjoying his life in the south so far removed from the textile mill in New York.

But something had changed Dave, Adam suspected it was due to the death of his young wife, Mary, who it seemed had died under suspicious circumstances. Adam felt that if he could get Dave to open up and tell him about what had happen then maybe he could help his friend though the pain he saw in his eyes. But Dave had refused to talk about what had happen and Adam felt that the grief and anger he was feeling was still too fresh for Dave to talk about just yet. He only hoped that it would not be too late for him when he finally awoke from the anguish trance he now moved in.
Adam found the General seated with his staff officers at a rickety wooden table, with their maps spread out in front of them. General Jackson glanced up at the sound of the approaching rider, fixing Adam in his steely blue gaze. The battle fervor was already upon Jackson, the wild look in his eyes more than startled Adam. There was often an aura of intensity surrounding the General, the very strength of his beliefs in his troops kept the men going; often marching more than 30 miles a day through rain and snow. Adam often found him self feeling uneasy in his presence.

Adam dismounted and saluted his superior; with a nod Jackson dismissed his staff and gestured for Adam to take a seat across from him at the table. The General delvnto nto the pocket of his great coat and removed a lemon. One of the little quirks that endeared him to his men was his fondness for lemons; and it was known that he was rarely without one tucked in his coat pocket. He sliced it quickly with a small pairing knife.

“Colonel Clayton, you are placed in a rather precarious position,” Jackson began with out preamble, “your troops will be exposed to the enemy without the protection of the wall.”

Adam nodded, “I’ve had my boys digging in and building up the earth works, sir, we are quite fortified.”

“Even so, your position will make you a key target for the enemy. If they break through your line they will have no trouble over whelming us and taking this army from the rear. You must hold your line at all cost.”

“Understood Sir” Adam answered.

“You will not be without aid, though,” the General continued, indicating several points on the map “Our line is anchored here on the right with Pelham’s artillery and Stuart’s cavalry. You are supported on your left by Pendar’s artillery. A.P Hill and Taliaferro infantry are in reserves directly behind you in those woods. Further to our left Longstreet and his boys are dug in up on Marey’s height behind that stonewall. This road here runs the entire length of our line, if your line is in trouble, send word for reinforcements, and there will be no trouble moving troops to your position”

Adam nodded, “I understand our position and that we have the high ground sir; does General Lee believe that the Yankees would be so foolish as to attack us here?”

Before General Jackson could answer the sound of cannon fire to the north, behind Fredericksburg, could be heard shattering the peace of the morning. From their own lines the confederate’s heavy guns answered, belching thick black smoke.

A wry grin spread across Jackson’s bearded face. “I believe that is your answer, Colonel.”

Jackson stood, and gestured for Adam to follow him up to where General Lee had placed his H.Q. From this vantage point the whole of the field was spread out below him.
“The Yanks are being to form in town sir,” said a young staff officer, passing his field glasses to Jackson. Adam retrieved his own from the pockets of his great coat, surveying the scene below, trying to make out the banners of the men forming. His heart unclenched when he did not see any of the New York color guards forming below. Apparently his gambler’s luck still held.

“It will take them awhile to assemble, esp. if we keep our guns on them. Then they will have to cross the drainage canal, and they’ll bottle up there and we will pour our fire on them with righteous fury.” Remarked Jackson

“No Sir, a chicken wont be able to live on that field once we open up our guns,” answered the staff officer with grim humor.

Adam was unsure how to answer, or even if one was necessary, he was grateful for the high ground, but did not look forward to seeing the coming carnage. He half thought that Gen. Burnside would see the folly of this attack and would leave, but it appeared that this foolish attack would go on. He has the sudden strange notion that the whole bloody war would go on and on with no end in sight. Adam sighed softly.

General Jackson turned back to him, a strange sort of compassion for his comrade soften his maniacal blue eyes.

“Returned to your men, Colonel, it will take the Yanks a while to organize, and if our artillery does their job right, there won’t be enough yanks left to make their way down here. It might be several hours before we see action at this end. You are dismissed.”

Adam began to make his way back to his waiting horse when a spec of green and gold caught his eyes; he drew out field glasses once more. He felt his heart drop at the sight that met his eyes. There on the outside of town were the regimental colors of the New York’s fighting Irish ruffling in the slight breeze. He lowered the field glasses, feeling a strange sort of numbness flowing over his body. So much for luck he thought.

The New York unit across the river was not formed yet; the men still lingered around the camp fires. May they stay that way, prayed Adam, if there was a God, then please let them be held in reserves through out this coming bloody day.
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Sons Of Erin