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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Leadership (03/14/05)
The night was as still as death. The air around us, heavy with humidity and the dreaded foreboding of the dawn, had a suffocating quality to it. None of us were comfortable as we waited, sweating and alone with our thoughts.

I had a clear view of the moon as I lay there that long night. It danced mysteriously behind thin strips of slowly moving clouds. Sometimes the moon seemed to smile beneficently upon us, as if separating itself from the hellish events that the morning would bring; at other times it affected a mournful pose, as if anticipating with us the harsh reality of the ensuing battle.

I don't know why I remember the moon so well. I suppose I concentrated on it to relieve my mind of the anguished thoughts a soldier feels when he knows the savagery of combat will soon be upon him. In the morning the Yanks would come over yonder ridge and try to wrest Richmond, beloved Richmond, from our firm grasp. We couldn't wish it away. It was our reality and we had to face it head on.

My family -- the Billings of Beaufort, South Carolina; you may have heard of us -- had three boys among the regulars now. My Daddy, Eliza Billings Sr., had watched my older brothers Eliza Jr. and Bo, whose proper name is Beauregard, march off to war together. They were proud to go and fight for the cause, my brothers were. As for me -- Jeb Caleb Billings, known to most simply as Young Jeb -- I was 15 at the time and didn't know much about the politics of war, about things such as the sovereignty of the states and about not being bullied by the northern sophisticates. I just knew I had to go and do my part when my time came, follow in my brothers' footsteps.

It was a sad day when I left the farm. Daddy knew I had to do it. Mom did, too, though she was adamently opposed to my joining the regulars. And my three sisters all felt the same. What made it worse is that there had been no news from Bo. Was he still alive? We didn't know, though we never discussed the possibility of him dying. Daddy took me aside the day I left. It was my 17th birthday. "Young Jeb," he told me, " you be careful." Daddy had tears in his eyes. So did I.

It's funny the things that go through your mind as you're waiting to fight. As I lay there on the outskirts of Richmond in my hand-dug trench that long night, I thought a lot about Dad and Mom and my sisters. Suddenly they were dearer to me than I ever realized. And I thought about my brothers Eliza Jr. and Bo. I hadn't seen Eliza since I joined and there was still no word on the whereabout of Bo.

I thought about the pain it would bring my family if I didn't come home. I was scared. Plain scared. The night in its nakedness had exposed my vulnerabilities and I shamed myself for wanting so bad not to die, not to be shot ior hurt. So I concentrated on the inscrutable moods of the moon overhead and tried to push the events of the morning as far away from my mind as I could.

And that's what I heard it. It sounded like crying. Was I dreaming? But, no. There it was again. The noise carried clearly in the night air.

Such was my curiosity that I moved from the trench to the place where the sound was emanating from. I crawled maybe 50 feet and there in the distance, overlooking a low wooden fence, was the General himself. I recognized him right away, even though I had never seen him before. His gray hair and beard were illuminated in such a way that it reminded me instantly of Moses coming down from the Mount.

The General was crying, sort of. Maybe wailing would be a better word for it. He was unburdening his heart before God and praying with a fervency that I hadn't seen in anyone since ol' Zeke the Deacon at the church back in Beaufort. I couldn't make out all the words, but I did hear the General distinctly praying for protection for the brave soldiers who would lay their lives on the line the next day. It wasn't the words that struck me, though, but the spirit behind the words. "If God ever heard the prayer of a mortal man, he will hear the prayers of General Lee this night," I thought to myself.

When I crawled slowly back to the trench a short while later, I realized that I wasn't afraid anymore. Suddenly, I was feeling much better about things.
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This article has been read 863 times
Member Comments
Member
Date
Lynne Cox
03/21/05
Very well-done, I enjoyed this. My only criticism is that I didn't care much for the way it ended - it needed the same punch the rest of the story had.
Kyle Chezum
03/21/05
Very well done, and very creative! It really held my interest.
Leticia Caroccio
03/24/05
"The night was as still as death" was a great opening line. It set the mood for the majority of the piece. You managed to capture the dark mood of those young soldiers during a difficult time in our country's history. I especially like to hear about our strong, powerful leaders that give in to true emotions. You did a fine job.
Phyllis Inniss 
03/26/05
What a great storyteller you are. This piece held my interest throughout and I was pleased to see your fears replaced by your witnessing the prayers of the General.
donna robinson
03/26/05
Excellent bit of writing here; the thoughts of the young soldier and the cry of the leader who, as all good leaders, doesn't want to see the death of his men. I liked the ending. It allowed me to gradually fade away with the soldier; it wasn't about the battle or the cause it was about the human quality and the ending let me fade with him.
Delores Baber
03/28/05
After reading this I know why you are in the Advanced group. You are very talented. Your words paint a picture complete with emotions and humanity. Also you feature the leader's greatest quality being his petition for protection on his men. A leader must know he also has a leader who rules in the affairs of men. Thank you for giving us a moment in time that came aline in your writing.
Dixie Phillips
04/16/05
Your story really touched my heart. You did paint a picture with your "vivid" words. My heart was aching for him to have peace and you so beautifully let him have a "positive" encounter with a LEADER who was having and encounter with HIS LEADER. I loved how you resolved his torment with peace. And the line that tickled my funny bone was 'praying with a fervency that I hadn't seen since Old Zeke the deacon.' That painted a picture in my mind.... Beautiful story!