America: 50☆Stars (Vol. 2)

Episode 24: Love from Lydia

A/N: This episode was based on a request from a long time ago. Admittedly, I failed to publish the book that went with the story. But at long last, I finally published that story, here in this book. Apologies to ItsKarmagirl565 for the long wait.

On another note, a Hetalia OC representing the Confederate States of America (aka the Confederacy) makes a brief appearance in this story. They're not too stereotypical, so don't expect much comedy in this melancholic episode.

~

July 4, 1863—Gettysburg, Pennsylvania

Though an hour past midnight, Virginia continued to take account of the casualties in the Confederate Army until she was summoned by the Confederacy's orders to meet him inside his tent. Knowing her commander, she predicted she would have to face him either having a violent tantrum or a glass of whiskey. Truthfully, she wasn't in the mood to deal with another tirade. Unfortunately, she had little choice on the matter. An order was an order.

She stepped inside her commander's tent without announcing her presence. The Confederacy was slouching on a wooden stool, looming over the military strategy table that was in disarray. He was still in his gray uniform, still stained with grass, dirt, and gunpowder. In his left hand was a handkerchief stained with blood. In his right hand was a half-full glass of whiskey. He promptly took a large gulp of his whiskey before slamming the glass on the table.

"Damn it! Where did it all go wrong?" he growled.

He didn't notice Virginia until she spoke up, "Pickett's Charge was a mistake."

The Confederacy looked over his shoulder, glaring daggers at her. "Ya sayin' it's my fault?"

She didn't flinch. "A charge this massive had multiple flaws. To begin with, we underestimated the distance between our offensive line at Seminary Ridge and their defensive line at Cemetery Hill. It was longer than expected. We also didn't expect the fences and the uphill slope to slow our charge greatly. As a result, our defenseless troops were easily gunned down by the enemy. Despite the losses, however, the charge could've worked with more manpower to overcome the casualties and break through the defensive line. If we had more time to plan this charge out, it might be possible to beat the odds and—"

His glass smashed into pieces on the ground behind her. "Shut up!" He smashed his fist on the table. "Fuckin' Union bastards! They think they won! But really, I won! I won the first day and did well on the second day! Surely, if I had more soldiers, this battle would've been mine to boast!"

"Commander," she interrupted his outburst, "what's the plan now?"

He grumbled, "I hate to say it, but we need to retreat. We don't have enough able soldiers to continue the battle or break through their defenses."

"Understood, sir."

"We'll begin the retreat later in the evening," he quickly added, taking her back by surprise.

"Sir, I understand we need to retreat as soon as possible. But there are thousands of soldiers scattered across the battlefield. It's going to take us more than a day to take account of the casualties and load the wounded onto the wagon train."

"I don't care. If the Union decides to attack us again, we're finished." He shunned his face away from her sight. "If we must, we'll abandon the soldiers who won't be able to travel with us."