GZ Tales: Percival's Tale Part 1

 

Mist floated across the southern battlefield like ghosts of the fallen. The horse shifted from hoof to hoof nervously under its rider, Captain Louis Percival. Captain Percival ignored his horse as he stared across the wide field toward the enemy. His Union uniform was more brown than blue, like the rest of his men. Even the brass on his hat carried the spattering of combat. Captain Percival’s men held their ground in a long arrangement of dugouts lined with debris and bodies. On the other side of that wide field in Louisiana, Captain Percival could see the forces of Colonel Amon LeFey. Those forces outnumbered the Union soldiers 2 to 1.

            For either side, the field would be a long charge to get into effective rifle range. Percival’s troops were weathered and tired. LeFey’s troops looked too comfortable for Percival’s liking.

            Captain Percival was proud of his men. None of them ever mentioned retreat and all of them wanted to end Confederate control of Louisiana. Percival was even more proud of them because they had no idea how much more risk they faced that day than any other in the whole war. They had splintered away from the command forces under Major Nathaniel Prentice Banks for something greater than any battle the Civil War had.

            Percival looked to his Sergeant who stood ready nearby, “Make sure every man’s rifle is loaded and ready to fire.”

            “Yes, Sir!” and the man with thick mustache turned to other men, “All right, you louts, have those rifles ready!” The Sergeant stomped away shouting at the other men.

            Captain Percival removed a glove and scratched away some debris from his reddish brown mustache and beard. Then he put the glove back on and drew his sword for examination. He didn’t carry the standard issue cutlass, rather a blade passed down for generations. A family crest decorated the center of the hand guard. It was a crest older the United States could ever dream. Percival wiped away some blood staining from the blade and stared at his reflection in the metal.

            “Sir!” The Sergeant had returned to snap Percival out of distant thoughts, “The men await your orders. Every last rifle is primed and ready. If I may, the men do wonder what your idea is this time; with us being out of range and all.”

            “Have I ever not had an idea?”

            “No, Sir!”

            Colonel Amon LeFey sat on his own horse with his Lieutenant on a mount next to him. LeFey’s bushy white mustache and goatee did little to hide the amused smirk on his face. Unlike Captain Percival, LeFey’s uniform was crisp and clean. Not a drop of blood or sweat showed anywhere on the man.

            “It appears there’s movement in the Union camp, Boys,” LeFey scoffed, “Maybe they think they’re ready to try again. Stand ready!”

            His men formed lines awaiting a Union charge. Their rifles were also primed and ready to fire.

            “What are they doing, Sir?” Lieutenant Levar asked as he mused over the situation.

            “It appears they aim their rifles into the air,” LeFey answered. “They must know they are out of range.”

            “Perhaps they’ve lost their minds?”

            “That would be nice, but don’t underestimate Captain Percival. He always has a reason for everything he does.”

            “A distraction then?”

            “Perhaps.”

            Rifle fire echoed across the field as Percival’s men fired at a high angle. LeFey could see them rushing to reload. He considered ordering a charge, but then the first of the metal balls came down. From the high angle of fire the heavy metal balls from the black powder rifles fell like hail stones. They didn’t hurt but a few men, but it did force them to move.

            “Charge and fire!” LeFey shouted, but the Union soldiers were already doing the same.

            All either side needed was a 30 yard advance to be in better firing range. Percival’s men made it first. The first row of men dropped to one knee while the second aimed over their shoulders.

            “Fire!” the Sergeant shouted, and they did.

            This time more shots found their marks as Confederate soldiers fell while preparing to aim. The Union troops charged with their bayonets, hoping to close the gap before taking too much return fire. They didn’t quite make it, but close quarters combat joined next anyway. Bayonets, knives, and swords clashed with the occasional sound of gunfire, painting the field with blood.  Lieutenant Levar took a bullet to the skull and fell from his horse. LeFey stayed ridged in saddle. He glared at the Captain, fighting through the crowd from horseback.

            “Die! Come on! Die in the crossfire!” LeFey growled as he peered through the mist and smoke.

            Captain Percival charged through the bodies on his horse with sword held high. Any enemy within swinging distance caught a mean slash as Percival went by. Through the smoke, Percival could just see the outline of his target. Percival wanted more than just an outline. He wanted the face of LeFey within fingers grasp. His horse gave a cry of pain as it suddenly crashed to the ground. Percival rolled clear and fended off another Confederate soldier quickly.

            LeFey could see Percival clearly now, emerging from the battle with an expression of fury.

            “Kill him, damn it! Kill him!” LeFey growled.

            Percival would not be stopped. Any who got in his way were dispatched by sword with ridiculous ease. It was as if Percival had training above that of the common soldier.

            Colonel LeFey drew his pistol, more than willing to shoot through his own men. A rifle shot sounded and the pistol flew from the Colonel’s grip. Percival’s Sergeant stood nearby, ready to charge with his bayonet to finish the job. Colonel LeFey glared at the Sergeant with eyes that shimmered. Without any strength to stop himself, the Sergeant brought his bayonet up under his own jaw and thrust it clear into his brain.

            Colonel LeFey turned his attention back to Percival who now stood only ten feet away.

            “You’re going to pay for that!” Percival shouted, “You and me, LeFey!”

            “You’ll never have the sword, Percival!” LeFey shouted back, “Never!”

            Colonel LeFey raised a hand as Percival drew the revolver and aimed it. As the weapon fired, there was a great flash of light that blinded all who were nearby.

            As the bright flare faded, it was replaced by a blaring noise. Captain Percival rolled across the ground as the speeding car nearly hit him. From the curb, Percival stood up slowly as he took in the impossible sight around him.

            Buildings of brick and mortar surrounded him on the city street. Roaring carriages without horses went past him in various colors. Tall metal poles loomed overhead with light fixtures that he didn’t understand. People walking past wore the strangest clothing he had ever seen. There were so many styles of odd clothing; Percival thought there must be a costume ball.

            “Is he drunk?” A woman in a business suit asked as she passed him by.

A woman not wearing a dress was a confounding sight, and there were many of them.

“Weirdo,” said a man in leather and chains passing in the opposite direction of the business woman.