"War is Hell."
General William Tecumseh Sherman
1864
It is a general rule that nobody in their right mind plays with fire. Children know this, adults know this, but the North does not. Behind the billowing clouds of smoke and a wall of fire, Anna can see blue. A mass of blue is traveling towards her. It is men who bore the blue uniforms, she realizes. The men march with purpose, and light flame to anything crossing their path.
Anna's heart lurches. The inn Anna has spent the past two years tending to is now burnt to the ground.
Ashes litter the abandoned lots along the path marked through the town. The inhabitants litter the small path, and they clutter together in a panicked frenzy. The strong scent of burnt flesh fills the air. It makes Anna feel sick, and her stomach threatens to empty their contents onto the dirt path. The soldiers are not stopping. The North's mission is to leave nothing behind, and they will not stop. Anna clutches at her skirt, and gathers up the heavy clothing.
She begins to run in the opposite direction of the soldiers. Anna's corset rubs against the side of her stomach. Her bare feet graze against the dirt, and they kick up small clouds of dust behind her. She pushes against the stagnant crowd. Anna dances through the townsfolk, and mutters breathless apologies. Adrenaline courses into her being. Anna feels her heart beat increase in speed.
Anna can hear loud thumps from within her chest. Behind her, shrieks and pleas of women echo throughout the void. Anna hears men shouting over the mayhem. What causes Anna to feel great sympathy is the cries of agony. Each carries so much pain and innocence. Anna spent her childhood with the townsfolk. Not a single one deserved this fate. Anna carries on still, knowing there is nothing left for her here now.
Perspiration dots Anna's forehead. She forces herself down the path at an unknown speed. Her feet slap against the dirt with every stride. Pain shoots up through her legs, but she does not dare to stop. The smell of the fire and the knowledge of the coming soldiers is the only thing keeping her moving forward. Trees, surrounding the path near the outskirts of town, are in her vision. Anna aches to lie down and rest. Her legs threaten to buckle under her.
The ground texture changes, and Anna knows she has finally made it to the trees. Gnarled tree roots spring out of the soil. Anna fumbles and trips, but does not stop. She does not know if the soldiers have advanced in their savage burning to continue to the forest. Anna soon becomes dizzy, for the Georgia heat caused her to become light headed, woozy. Anna stumbles, and finds herself falling. Dirt grazes her cheek, and Anna squeezes her eyes shut.
Her head thumps against a nearby tree. Anna can feel her vision start to become vague. Images of black shoot across the back of her eyes. Anna sits up cautiously. Spanish moss hangs from the trees. Silence surrounds Anna. Light spills out of the gaps in the tree tops. She tucks her legs under herself, careful to avoid ripping her dress. She carefully pushes the rippling, brown fabric under herself along with her legs.
Anna is unable to think straight. The back of her head is throbbing. In a strange way, it reminds her of a heartbeat. She closes her eyelids, and she lays herself down onto the soft-packed earth. Her mind urges her to get up and keep running, but her body tells her she should rest. Her body wins the argument, and Anna persists upon sleeping. Soon after, darkness engulfs Anna.
•••
Burning Atlanta has proved to be a difficult task. The order has took the soldiers almost three days to complete. It is on the third day that the men arrive at a town just outside of Atlanta's borders. The townsfolk, though forewarned, are still shocked at the North's raid. The soldiers are ordered to burn everything to the ground, and to keep moving no matter the circumstances. John haphazardly throws the flaming torches at the buildings, and they erupt in flames.
Men, women, and children run about the hellish town in a dazed, fearful confusion, but John continues to march down the dirt path. The intense heat of the fire warms his skin, and his blue Yankee uniform. The group of soldiers make slow progress in the town, and by mid-afternoon there is nothing left of the town. Other than piles of ashes, of course.
John and his fellow soldiers are tired, but that does not stop the men's celebratory mood. The soldiers have burnt down the last town, and their work in Atlanta is done. "Smile a bit, John. It's good for you." Thomas, a soldier and a close friend of John's, pats the young man on the back.
The sun is sinking down, and John is worried that the soldiers will be unable to find a place to celebrate and rest before nightfall. John runs his scorched hands through his hair in frustration. The soldiers start to find their way through the dense forest, and John is to scout the area in search of the nearest inn. First, John scans the surroundings for signs of danger, but he can only hear the jeers and hollers from the group of soldiers. In the little light the sinking sun provides, John can see a glimpse of a human hand.
He gazes intently upon the newfound body resting on the forest floor. John is unsure if what he sees is real, or a figment of his imagination. Thomas and the others notice John's curiosity. John hesitates before he goes to the body. He is surprised to see that the stranger is a woman, and she is not dead. Her stomach rises and falls with her jagged breaths. John is puzzled as to why the young woman is sleeping on the dirt. His eyes search her throughly.
After several minutes, John finds black ash smudged on the hem of her dress. The woman's feet are bare, and sport many raw, burnt spots. She has knocked herself unconscious, and there is a small black bruise forming just above her eyebrow. John feels that this is his fault. Burning the town has caused this woman pain, and he silently curses himself for bringing it upon such an innocent being.
He gently picks her up. One hand is placed in the curve of her knees, and the other hand is placed under the crown of her head. John has not seen such beauty as this woman carries. It strikes John by great surprise. She only appears to be nothing but a peasant woman. The woman's hair reaches to the middle of her back, and the color is dark brown. Her face is streaked with ash, dirt, and sweat. The stranger's eyelashes flutter, and she stirs in John's arms.
"What the hell are you doing?" Thomas rushes over to John, and inquirers.
"We cannot leave her here." John responds, "She has nowhere left to go." John thinks about how they burnt down her home, and she has only the choice of fleeing to the woods. Mercy is not a tactful soldier quality, but John is certainly showing it to the young lady.
"But she is a Southerner!" Interjects a soldier.
"I know," John states," But if I do not help her, I fear I can never hold my head up again." John meets the eyes of the men. They nod in understanding and murmur their agreements.
Many hours pass before the group of Yankees find a passable inn. They travel to the next town, and find an inn nearby to a saloon. The town stops their usual activities when the soldiers arrive. The townsfolk know who the soldiers are, and they fear for their lives and homes. Footsteps rap against the wooden planks on the porch of the inn, and the soldiers open the door. John is first to go, so he has room to carry the lady. John's arms are tired, but he has to make sure he arrives with the woman safely.
The innkeeper eyes John carefully. John recognizes the look of distrust among the middle-age woman's features. Her face wrinkles in confusion when she spots the women in John's arms, but she says nothing about the matter. In hopes of no shenanigans, the soldiers are given rooms for free. The innkeepers know of their raids and savage ways, and do not take a liking to the group of men.
John takes the young lady to a room, and gently places her on the bed. He tells himself he shall check on her in the morning to see if she wakes from her earlier state of unconsciousness. He brushes away the soft, silky hair resting on top of the bruise on her forehead. She seems to have a beauty he has never encountered anyone of possessing. John smiles, and is happy to have beauty brought to him by God once again.
YOU ARE READING
Anna
Historical Fiction"It is a general rule that nobody in their right mind plays with fire. Children know this, adults know this, but the North does not."
