The Battle of Arctor’s Ledge
(Or: The Open Mic That Changed Everything)
Familiar are we all with the tale of Christmas Eve, 1915.
Etched forever in our collective consciousness (thanks in large part to elementary
school history books) is the parable which showcases humanity’s aversion to
violence and war. On that holiday evening, as brutal war was waged between the
Allied Forces and the Central Powers, somehow camaraderie was discovered.
Though enemies shortly before (and most assuredly afterwards), British, French,
German, and Austrian soldiers were able to dance, sing, eat and drink to
celebrate the holiday most sacred to all of them with each other. As one must
surely feel a stirring in one’s heart when recalling this beautiful tale, it is
not the first of its kind. In fact, during the Civil War, the Open Mic that
took place during the Battle of Arctor’s Ledge indeed was a showcase of human
dignity of the first order.
The Battle of Arctor’s Ledge was a particularly brutal
affair. Though exact numbers are unavailable, at least 12 million men died
between the fifth and eleventh of July 1863. The casualties were fairly evenly
distributed between Union and Confederate forces, and a stalemate had ensued for
nearly a week. Lethargy and nihilism had begun to set in on both sides, as is
evident in a memorandum from Union General Orb Brigand:
Leftenant Shroppke: Fuck. This battle sucks. And it’s not
even like there’s anything to do in this shitty town. Where are the bands?
Where are the girls? I’m bored. I don’t even care if we win or not.
Best, Gen. Brigand.
Confederate leadership was no less transparent regarding the
fatigue brought on by the brutal détente. General Auger Leftwitch writes:
Corporal Dougand: When is this going to be over? It’s bad
enough that there hasn’t been a decisive encounter in days, but on top of that,
nobody even listens to my acoustic guitar music! I can’t order the men to come
see me play, can I? Get back to me on that.
Love, Gen. Leftwitch.
How the ironically parallel sentiments of these two memos
ever came to light on both sides will most likely be a mystery forever.
Scholars speculate that the couriers carrying communiqués to officers, as
non-combat personnel, had the luxury of fraternizing with each other and sought
to organize a soiree. What is certain, however, is that it was decided that an
open mic should be held in the meadow just below Arctor’s Ledge that night.
The unease between Northern and Southern men quickly
evaporated, thanks in part to alcohol and the fatigue of war. The sign-up list
quickly filled up, and all were excited to see what talents their friends and
enemies possessed. The event was MC’d by Union Commander Fletcher Eisen, whose
witty and urbane banter was sophisticated enough for the Northern men to
appreciate but shallow enough for even the most stupid Southern man to feign
laughter at.
Much of this information is purely speculative, but some
details have been fleshed out by drink receipts. For instance, as Arctor’s
Ledge overlooked the Northern town of Chungkuo, the servers and barkeeps were
predominantly black. Ironically, the Southerners generally tipped the help to
excess, while the Northerners tipped very little (if at all). While we die to
make men free, indeed.
The highlight of the evening, captured on primitive
hand-cranked wax cylinder, was certainly Military Attaché (and part-time
stand-up comedian) Lieutenant Commander August Frankenweiller. Though a Dixie
man through and through, his Southern comedy stylings were apparently
appreciated by both Fed and Reb alike. To wit:
Now, we all know the North and the South are different. I
mean, we are fighting this war, aren’t we!? [laughter and applause] But
let’s be serious for a second. I’m from the South, [drunken Southerners
cheer] and I can tell you: we sure do love our slaves! [uproarious
laughter] But hold on a second. Seriously! What’s the deal with you
Northerners and your labor unions? [laughter mixed with ‘ooohs’] No, I’m serious! I mean, at least our slaves live comfortably! Do you even PAY
the dudes who do work for you up there!? [laughter, applause]
The night was a great one for purveyors of the philosophy
that people can kill the shit out of one another today, be best friends that
evening, and kill the shit out of each other a ton more tomorrow. I, for one,
respect this supposition. I will point out, however, that the generally
agreed-upon low point of the evening came when Confederate Captain Bloom
Challon played the entire 22 minutes of “Stairway to Heaven” on bass.
Impressive though it was, the drunken crowd seemed to much prefer the acoustic
guitar rendition of “Love Train,” as played by Generals Leftwitch and Brigand.
The next day, 87 million were killed. So (as some Midwestern
writer would say) it goes.
