Where all confederate chars will enter

General Lewis Armistead, more commonly called Lo by his friends, sat on a log outside of his tent, looking out into space. He was thinking about one man in particular, Winfield Scott Hancock, his closest friend before the war. Hancock was fighting for the Union, while he was fighting for the Confederacy. He thought about the last time they'd seen each other, in California, before the war and hoped that they would meet again after everything was over.

General George Pickett strode across the camp, slowing his steps when he noticed a familiar figure sitting nearby. His face broke into a smile. Just the man he'd hoped to speak with. "General Armistead!" he called, hoping to catch the man's attention.

Armistead turned at the sound of the familar voice. "George." He nodded in greeting. "How do you do?"

"Fine, Lo," Pickett replied, nodding. "You mind if I take a seat?" he asked.

"Go ahead." Armistead moved over to make room for him.

Picket sat down, shifting his weight slightly as he did so. "Heard anything of General Jackson?" he inquired. Word had spread that in the recent battle at Chancellorsville, the General had been badly wounded. As it was, Pickett and his men had not been present at the battle.

Armistead shook his head. "All I've heard is that Stonewall is down, nothing else. Do you have more news?"

"I'm afraid not," Pickett admitted. "He's a good officer. Lord knows, we could use more like him."

"We must cross our fingers that he will recover," Armistead remarked. He looked out over the tents, then back at Pickett a minute later. "Have you heard anything of Hancock?"

"Not much," Pickett replied. "He's alive, that's all I know." A lot of friendships had been torn apart by this war, he reflected. Too many, in fact.

"I was thinking about him before you came over," Armistead said, "About the last time we saw each other, before the war."

Pickett nodded. "We all went to West Point together," he remembered. Then he nudged Armistead, a wide grin spreading across his face as he recalled something. "Remember the time you broke that plate over Early's head?"

Armistead laughed. "I remember like it was yesterday. I still aren't too found of the man either."

Pickett laughed, too, a hearty chuckle. "And I suppose you have good reason not to be!" This felt good, he thought, this lightheartedness, this laughter. Like it should be. Old friends together.

"I suppose I do." Armistead continued to laugh. "But what do you think of the man George? Half the time I think he's up to no good, but at least he's on our side."

"Well, he has no sense for navigating a battlefield, I'll tell you that! Like at Malvern Hill!" In that particular conflict, Early's troops had had the misfortune to become completely lost in the woods, resulting in them being nearly useless to the action on the field.

"One of his many faults," Armistead said, "We need more men like Stonewall Jackson and less like Jubal Early."

Pickett nodded in agreement. "We must keep up hope and trust in the Lord that Stonewall will make it through."

"I agree," he told him, "We need stonewall to make it though. The loss will be unforgettable if he doesn't."

"All we can do is wait for news," Pickett advised. "Be it good or bad."

"Of course." Armistead stared out into space again, his thoughts yet again drifting back to Hancock.

Pickett, not wishing to disturb him any more, quietly stood to leave.

Armistead looked at him again when he stood up. "You can stay George."

Pickett slowly sat back down again, uncertainly, and waited for Armistead to speak again.

"How are Jim and **?" he asked, turning to look at Pickett.

"They're both doing fine," Pickett answered. "But ** was somewhat worried when he heard the news of Jackson. Even if they don't get along in some circles, he does respect him."

"Everyone in this army does," Armistead said, "He's just such a good soldier."

He shifted his weight slightly as he talked.

"There's many good soldiers out there," Pickett added. "Three years of hard fighting ought to have proven that, at least."

Armistead nodded. "We have good men in our brigade. Men who are ready for action."

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