Disclaimer: All the characters from the "Magnificent Seven" T.V. series are property of Trilogy Entertainment, The Mirisch Group, MGM Worldwide.
It had been raining for three straight days.
He was cold and hungry and a little afraid. The rest of the faces around him were similarly gripped with such feelings and the pall of doom weighed heavily upon them. They had already spent more time in this gully than they should have and no doubt enemy reinforcements were well aware that they were here and were closing in. The tightening noose around their necks had driven their morale in to the dirt and though he was their lieutenant, he could say or do very little to lift their spirits when their commanding officer was determined to crushing it further into dust.
Captain Hannibal Alexander Julius, whose family had given him that auspicious appellation in the hopes that the name would somehow affect the person, truly believed he was the military equal of his namesakes. The fact that he had no successes in the battlefield to date was attributed by him to the inefficiency of the men under his command. While the young man had only recently began his tenure as one of Julius' lieutenants, he had enough intelligence behind him to know that Julius lacked all the necessary characters requirements that made Hannibal, Alexander the Great and Julius Caesar the generals they had been.
Unfortunately, lack of ability did not dampen the man's belief that he was the greatest commander in the field of battle that was currently known to the rest of the world as the American Civil War. Under his command, the highest casualty rate of any platoon was credited to his genius. In his determination to succeed in taking that hill or that enemy encampment, he was willing to risk everyone's life except his own. It deepened the animosity of those who had survived his strategies that Julius often took the rear when he sent his men into battle, careful that the military excellence he represented was not extinguished in his senseless death.
He often spouted such words when he canvassed the field after the battle and side stepped the bodies of the men he had sent to die.
The lieutenant had only wanted to survive his tenure under Julius' command. He had learnt long ago what the price was for breaking the chain of command and the course his life had taken following that mistake was burned into him. Standing up for what he believed had cost him everything, the respect of his father, the career he might have had and the life he had walked away from. He had become a lieutenant thanks to his three years in West Point and the fact that he had distinguished himself enough in prior battles to be awarded a battlefield commission. Until that moment, he had not believed that he would ever become an officer after his disgraceful departure from West Point and felt that if he could just come out of this war with his skin intact, perhaps he could pick up the reins of his life. Perhaps even sum up the courage to face the father he had failed so miserably.
Unfortunately, Lieutenant Chris Larabee was starting to suspect that he may not even survive the night.
Over the gully where he and men were entrenched was a hill that headquarters had decided most empathically had to be taken in order to spearhead a larger invasion. Unfortunately, before that end could be achieved, the platoon of men currently sitting under the teeming rain would have to fight their way to the peak without being massacred by the Rebel contingent giving similar orders to defend the location. Already their numbers had been cut down significantly until only a handful of Union soldiers remained. Despite Julius belief that sacrificing his men would be an adequate price for such a victory, they had been unable to break the line of defence the rebels had maintained so determinedly over the last four days.
Although the defeat of the Confederate armies was more or less eminent, the enemy was not going without a fight. The capture of this hill would be a beach head for the Union to launch its advance into southern territory. It was not just a battle to the Confederates but the end of all things if they were to yield the territory. They knew this were and determined to prevent the capture by any means necessary, marshalling forces from all across the area in order to combat the platoon that was intending to take it. Chris knew as well as the rest of the men in the platoon that they would never survive the united assault by those forces if they delayed any longer. Unfortunately, thanks to Julius, their numbers had decreased to such as state that even if they did try for the hill before those reinforcements arrived, they were hardly in a position to be much of a threat. The odds on either side of the coin were not good and no one expected to survive.
Chris watched the men huddled in the rain filled gully, their boots soaked from the inch of water that had accumulated on the floor of the fissure, covered in mud and shivering. They did not have a medic and Julius was not about to let any man leave his command, injured or not. Thus the motley collection of mud covered soldiers, bleeding and demoralised, remained where they were inside the gully, trying to bleed some warmth into their bodies by running their hands togethers, unable to create the friction that would generate heat because their hands palms wet.
"Larabee!" He heard Julius' voice snap into his brain and conditioning to that voice forced him upright.
The men reacted to Julius' voice through the rain with unmasked contempt and Chris could empathise with the feeling. Taking a deep breath, he lifted himself off the stool he had been sitting and tossed away the coffee that had become cold from the rain before trudging through the walls of the trench. They watched him leave, knowing that he was one of their own despite the officer's bars on the uniform and his indifference to the situation, aware that when it came down to it, he was not cut from the same cloth as most officers they knew. Without realising it, he had their loyalty from the number of times he had stood head to head with Julius, even though he was as powerless as they were.
Chris climbed out of the gully and saw Julius occupying the only tent they had in their possession, dining on hot food and looking decidedly more comfortable then the men with him. Beside him, Sargent Bellison, clearly one of Julius supporters was tending to his needs, more like a valet instead of a soldier. Chris' stomach heaved in disgust at the sight when the rest of platoon had not a dry pair of socks between them while their commanding officer, who had stationed himself well away from the danger, indulged himself in whatever luxury there was to be found in this place.
"Captain." Chris announced himself, trying to ignore the aromatic scent of food that was being prepared over a fire not far from him. His stomach rumbled instinctively, reminding him like the rest of the men who could no doubt smell this enticing aroma soon enough, that he was hungry. "You wanted to see me."
"I've decided that today is the day." Julius announced, standing up from his chair and removing the napkin that was tucked in his shirt to face the younger man.
"The day for what Sir?" Chris drawled although his dispassionate demeanour belied the fact that his insides were knotting with foreboding.
"The day we take that hill." Julius looked back at Chris like this was something he ought to know without being told.
"Are we expecting reinforcements?" Chris inquired.
Julius' face darkened considerably at the mere suggestion. "What on earth for?"
"Sir, you cannot expect us to take that hill without reinforcement. Our ammunition is down and the men are exhausted after three days in the rain, trying to take that hill over and over again. You send them out there and all you will be doing is getting them killed."
"Now you listen to me." Julius who was a short man by Chris' stature, with dark hair and narrow features, stormed up to Chris and glared at him. "We are going to take that hill today without reinforcements. I will not be the laughing stock of the entire Union by asking reinforcements just to take one measly patch of dirt! Am I understood?" He glowered at Chris.
Chris stared at him and knew then that the man was insane but he was mad man in power and that made very dangerous indeed. The lieutenant cast his gaze down at the man's hand and saw it poised over his sabre. He had no doubt that if he refused to obey, Julius would not hesitate to make an attempt at running him through with that weapon. Behind them both, Sargent Bellison had stopped what he was doing and had his gun ready to fire in case Chris decided to take this any further.
"Yes Sir." Chris stepped away from both of them and decided that he rather die on the battlefield then at the hands of this twisted duo. "Perfectly."
"I knew you would come to your senses" Julius smiled triumphantly. "You are after all an intelligent man. You come from a distinguished pedigree of warriors. You should be able to recognise genius in the making. We will take that hill." He grinned even wider but Chris had turned on his heels and started walking away before he said anything he might regret.
Chris returned to the gully deciding in the short journey from Julius' tent to the trenches that he was not about to die to fulfil the bastard's delusions of grandeur. They did not have much ammunition left but they did have dynamite and that would have to suffice to provide some of cover as they tried to traverse the distance between themselves and the Confederate encampment. Julius had ordered them to take the hill but he had not said how and that gave Chris some latitude to work with. He was barely twenty years old and while he had seen enough combat to know what he was doing, he had never actually formulated strategy, let alone lead men on his own.
Chris had never wanted to break the chain of command however, to obey the order given to simply take the hill would end his life on that muddy space between the two opposing forces and Chris was not about to go out this way. His father had always said that there came time for a man, whether he be a soldier, a doctor or a politician, to find out what he was made of and it looked like the moment for Lieutenant Chris Larabee was finally here.
"We've been ordered to take the hill." Chris replied as he descended into the muddy trench.
The response was not at all favourable with the men voicing their dismay at the order. Fear showed up in their faces but mostly anger as the man who would send them on a suicide run like this. Chris wondered if Julius had any idea how close he was to having a full scale mutiny on his hands unless Chris offered them the words that would keep them all from being courtmarshalled.
"That crazy bastard is going to git us killed!" A corporal named Henderson spoke up angrily.
"Maybe," Chris said calmly. "But I got a plan. How much dynamite do we have left?" He asked no one in particularly.
Finally a man not much older than himself with dark hair and a cocky look on his face, with no real feeling about the dying to come except perhaps annoyance, responded. "We got fourteen sticks of dynamite and fuses." The private replied. He looked younger than Chris but was quite taller and sported a moustache that was struggling to gain prominence on his face but still resembled peach fuzz at this time.
"Wilmington right?" Chris looked at the private, aware that he had only been transferred into the unit in the last few weeks. Chris had not had much opportunity to speak to the new arrival before this.
"Yeah," he tipped his cap in Chris' direction. "We got about 14 sticks left, fuses are a little well but they'll do."
It would be enough, Chris thought to himself. It had to be. "Get all of it and come with me."
The rain had not stopped pouring and Chris stared at the path ahead, knowing in the flank of sparse trees, Private Wilmington was waiting. Wilmington had not at all been pleased to have been left out of the action but when Chris explained what needed doing and how vital it was to the survival of all, the man was happy to oblige. Despite himself, he could not deny that the good natured private was growing on him. In the meantime, the rest of the men were falling into a line of charge, having received orders to ignore everything that Captain Julius might say to them and following the instructions he had given them prior to their formation on the field.
"Remember men," Julius continued his speech to which no one was really listening, concentrating on what they had to do get out of this situation alive. "When I give the order. You will let nothing get in your way. You will fight to the top of that hill and claim in the name of the Union!" He exclaimed, expecting them to sound their agreement to his rousing speech with a battle cry of enthusiasm and was disappointed when they did not. Frowning, he stepped aside and watched the row of bayonet's and guns create a jagged phalanx of steel before the men about to go into battle.
Chris did the same, hoping to hell he was right about what he was planning or else a lot of men were going to die. He wondered what his father would do in this situation and then realised if General Larabee were here, they would have taken the hill days ago and need not have any reason to countermand the orders of their commanding officer.
"Charge!!!" Julius shouted.
The platoon rushed forward, all eyes watching Chris as he led the charge across the field. The rain was still coming down and no matter how he may reason that his plan were sound, people were still going to die. Chris unsheathed his sabre and held it up high, running through the mud with the rest of the infantryman following when suddenly, Chris dropped the blade and shouted.
"First wave, in position!" Chris ordered and saw the designated men halt in their progress. No sooner than they had done that, Private Wilmington appeared out of his hiding place and began hurling what sticks of dynamite he had in his possession towards the Confederate encampment. At this distance, he could not possibly hope for the explosives to reach them however, the following eruptions would create enough disarray for the platoon to cross the space needed before the rebels could cut them to pieces. Instead of the standard battle cry that was uttered where everyone would be alerted to their presence, Chris had ordered them to remain silent. The only thing he wished them to hear was the dynamite detonating.
True enough, the resounding explosions took place shortly before the arrival of the Union soldiers broke through the smoke that had been created in its wake. Although he could not see the rebel encampment, he could imagine the chaos taking place and hoped it was enough. Although enemy gunfire had broken out, it was halted abruptly as the Confederates tried to decide if they had somehow sneaked a canon into the vicinity. It was precisely the illusion Chris had been trying to foster but knew the margin between indecision and action would be slight and so the timing of the attack had to be precise. When the soldiers of the Union blue broken through the clouds of smoke created by multiple explosions, Chris issued another order. "Drop!"
The men at the head of the line immediately fell to their bellies and kept their heads down as Chris waved his sabre at the line that had been formed with their guns primed to fire. As soon as the signal was given, a loud roar of gunfire escaped, further clearing the way for the line to proceed. He glanced at the woods and saw Wilmington had advanced far enough to begin again and he sent another volley of dynamite into the air to coincide with the wall of bullets lying towards the enemy. The barrage continued and the soldiers of the front line advanced a little further. The strategy alternated between the three phases that Chris had employed and amazingly enough, it worked. Eventually, they reached the rebel encampment, closer than they had ever managed in three days of fighting and effort under the command of Captain Hannibal Julius.
The rebel enclave was completely destroyed by day's end with a surprising number of soldiers in the platoon surviving the engagement. The hill was taken and the mood of jubilation was shared by everyone in the aftermath of the battle. When it was all said and done, Chris walked the length of the rebel stronghold and found no joy in seeing the broken bodies lying in the mud, even if they were wearing Confederate uniforms. Blue or grey, they were still dead and the ideology that prompted their death was probably the last thing on their mind when the end came.
"Lieutenant!" He heard a voice call after him. Chris turned to see Wilmington hurrying towards him, wearing a big grin on his face, swaggering forward and exulting in the cheers by the others at his part in the battle.
"Private." Chris said unable to remain disaffected by that intoxicating smile and allowed himself to reciprocate with a shadowy version of the one displayed by the Private.
"I got to say Lieutenant," Wilmington laughed. "You are one crazy son of a bitch. I thought we were done for."
"Just lucky." Chris shrugged, unwilling to take the credit when they had lost men to this action.
"Lucky my ass...." Buck remarked when suddenly, Julius appeared out of nowhere, with Bellison at his side. Judging by the stony expressions on both men, Chris realised that it was time to face the music for what he had done. He had expected this reaction sooner or later and wanted nothing more than to get it over and done with.
"Larabee!" Julius roared, his face dark with anger. For once, he was not concerned with the victory that had been achieved and was striding towards Chris with purpose. His outburst captured the attention of every soldier present and they paused what they were doing and shifted their attention to the unfolding drama between the Captain and the lieutenant.
"Yes Sir." Chris gave Wilmington a weary look and turned to his commanding officer.
"You countermanded my orders!" The man accused. "I ordered a straight charge! What the hell was that ridiculous manoeuvre you pulled!"
Chris saw no reason to lie to any of the man's accusation. "It got us across the field in one piece Sir." Chris replied. "A full frontal assault would have cut us down before we even got half way across the terrain. I countermanded your orders Sir but only so that a lot of good men could walk away from this alive, myself included."
In the face of all the death around him, suddenly his desire to keep his rank did not mean that much any more. The taste for command had left him in the last hour. As he had been spearing Confederates with the bloody sabre in its scabbard and shooting them left, right and centre, Chris realised that a military career did not seem as glorious a vocation as he had always dreamed. The General always made it sound so easy but until now, Chris had not realised just how hard it could be and had no wish to lead men ever again once this war was over.
"You are a coward." Julius shouted with rage, unable to believe that one of his own men was speaking to him like this. He was a genius and if had not been for Larabee's interference, the day would still have been his, no matter what ludicrous method this upstart had employed.
"I ain't the one waiting behind the lines while my men get killed Sir." Chris glared at him directly, finally saying what everyone else was thinking. Court martial or not, Chris was determine to have that much say at least. Even if he was to be locked up for the rest of the war, it would have been worth it just to educate this man on a few home truths.
"How dare you!" The Captain sputtered in fury, his eyes widening with outrage. "I'll have you drawn and quartered for this! I am your superior officer!"
"No, merely a higher ranking one!" Chris retorted, deciding that along with breaking the chain of command, he might as well take as stab at insubordination as well and turned his back on the man.
"Don't you walk away from me!" Julius screeched like a man possessed but Chris could not care. Around them were dozens of men who would never walk away from anything again and so this little tirade did little to impress him. No doubt, Julius would have him before a Board of Discipline but at the moment Chris was hardly concerned. He was done for the day and he needed a drink.
Julius saw the lieutenant striding away and looked around to see the sniggers that were barely hidden by those who remained. The contempt in their eyes was for him and Julius realised at that instant that he would lose all credibility in their eyes if he allowed such defiance to go unchecked. As it was, this interloper had stolen the victory that should have been his with his audacious plan of attack and Julius would broke no one taking what was his. Before he even had time to consider his actions, the Captain pulled out his gun.
"Lieutenant!" Chris heard Wilmington scream a warning.
Chris reacted immediately to the urgency in that voice and started to turn. However he never managed to face his attacker as the bullet from the Captain's gun tore into his back. The pain was beyond belief as Chris felt the penetration through muscle and flesh. He did not even notice when his legs buckled under him. The last thing he remembered was tumbling to the dirt, into the oblivion of darkness, almost grateful at cool relief offered by the black.
Chris spent three weeks in a military hospital and then a month in convalescence regaining the use of his legs. The bullet fired by Hannibal Julius had nearly severed his spinal chord and could have left crippled him forever. Fortunately, field surgeons were able to extract the piece of lead without that devastating outcome and Chris later learnt that Private Wilmington had been largely responsible for his arrival at the hospital. Captain Julius was stripped of his bars and dishonourably discharged when the men of his platoon arrested him and his Sargent on the spot after he had shot Chris in the back.
Chris learnt that during his time in hospital, a military tribunal was convened and the men of his platoon had given a damning testimony of Julius' action as well as bringing to light the incompetence in the man's abilities as a military commander. The result of the tribunal deliberations also commended Chris with the victory of the last battle and he was summarily promoted, while Julius was stripped and discharged, facing imprisonment for attempted murder. Chris returned to duty with the platoon under his command and Captain's bars on his uniform. His first action upon returning to combat was to promote Private Wilmington to the rank of Sargent, whom he learnt upon closer acquaintance, preferred to be called Buck.