#statehumans

September 19, 1863

The battle of the day had started by accident and was quickly turning into a battle that was going to define the war.

Tennessee, she was…she was scared about what this battle was going to mean for her. About what it meant for her nation, about her role, about everything that could happen to her.

Most of her land had been taken by her father, and with the battle at Gettysburg, it felt like they had exhausted their ability to fight into her father's land and were now stuck waiting for her father's armies to close around them and capture them.

Or maybe that was just Tennessee's fear, that with most of her land taken, she was now no longer a Confederate state, and was fair play for her father to demand back, even if Tennessee didn't want to go, even if he had no leverage.

She knew her father. She knew that he would never give Mississippi or the other Missouri back to them, just like she knew that Mississippi might not want to come back, not after what she did.

There was enough guilt in this war without that on top of that, and given how Mississippi had chosen to surrender, had not been captured, that was different.

And to be honest, Tennessee was half-convinced the other Missouri was dead.

(She should be sad about that, but she wasn't. She had never wanted to lose her brother, not even if he didn't side with them when it would have perhaps been better for him too)

Tennessee…she wanted to retake her land, but she was getting the sense that that would not happen.

Instead…it seemed all she could do was defend the little that was still left in the hands of her nation, prevent the rest of it from being taken, prevent the Federals from making the final push that would make her her father's state again.

Still, Tennessee was going to defend that land, defend Chickamauga (even if it wasn't hers, it was so close anyway that it had the same important meaning to her) with everything she had, because something had to be done to stop the Union victories in the West, the victories that were weakening her nation and making it harder and harder for General Lee to do what he needed to break the Federals in the East.

It was the late afternoon when Tennessee's brigade encountered a Union advance and began their own attack.

Tennessee would love to say that it went well. It would be wonderful to have that rousing feeling in the attack, that feeling that encouraged stronger pushes and made it easier to force the Union back, out of Georgia (it was too far, being in Georgia, having them here. They had already divided her nation when they took Mississippi—both the river and the personification, and if they captured Georgia, it was just another division of their nation that Tennessee didn't think they could handle).

Instead, their attack was just about as badly as it could.

First, they lost cohesion in their attack, already bad enough, but then they ended up separated from the other bridge that made up their division.

They still had commanders and a lot of soldiers, but it was another problem that they didn't need now, another weakness that could be exploited, and another reason for them to be defeated.

(Tennessee didn't want to admit it to herself or anyone, but she was scared of being captured. Since the beginning of almost all her land being captured, she had begun to feel her father's bond settling over her shoulder, familiar and unwanted, and she hated it and everything it represented. She had left. His bond shouldn't be there.)

Eventually, they managed to find some of her father's troops, presumably in a reserve position, whom they attacked.

They had to do something. They needed to keep the fight going.

That seemed to be going well, and Tennessee felt hope sing in her chest.

That is, until General Gregg was killed.

Tennessee could have screamed.

They were pushing the Federals back, it did seem like they were winning.

But it didn't have to stay that way.

And it already seemed like they were losing too much.

Tennessee's state was lost, and it might remain that way forever.

She would not let the Federals get a foothold in Georgia's home.

• ───────────────── •

September 20, 1863

Tennessee hated bureaucracy. She hated how orders got delayed and how one person's mistake could send everything crumbling down around them.

Even in situations where victory seemed likely, those mistakes could doom things.

Of course, the Battle of Chickamauga was a Confederate victory, but Tennessee didn't know that yet.

Therefore, she was pissed at how, despite everything they were doing to drive the Federals to the south, to push them from the important positions and see them dealt with, miscommunications could still be the death of them.

While General Briggs had been happy with the actions yesterday, according to the message that Tennessee had heard, their attacks had been disjointed, and that had cost them men, time, and an advantage, which is why General Briggs so badly wanted today to be one big attack.

Something that was far easier said than done.

Finally, finally, they were able to attack in the afternoon, after far too many delays for an attack that was meant to happen in the morning.

Tennessee knew that Arkansas and South Carolina had to be just as frustrated as she was, and she wondered what they were thinking, as they disjointedly defended themselves from Federal assaults as they waited for everyone to get their shit together.

But when the attack came together, it was just as glorious as they had wanted it to be, the full force of their army crashing into the Federal positions, weakening them until they broke, crumbling in on themselves as the Federals were forced into a retreat.

A fighting retreat, but a retreat nevertheless.

They were winning this.