(Greentext) General Dixie

>Yesterday, you were a private in the 2nd Wisconsin. After surrendering to a Rebel cavalry company, however, you became nothing more than another Yankee prisoner of war.
>Late that morning, the guards escorted you and several other blue-suited prisoners down a winding path through the dense woods. They never said where you were being taken, but you automatically assumed the worst: a one-way ticket to Andersonville.
>It was unbearably humid in Virginia that day, and much like you, the Rebs were sweating so hard that their coats turned a darker color. While marching, you took a long swig from your near-empty canteen and hoped you would get a chance to fill it again soon. The water in Andersonville was undrinkable, so you've heard.
>"Hey, Johnny," you asked aloud to the guards behind, still looking forward, "What's at the end of this trail here?"
>"A train, little Billy," one answered sternly. "It'll take you boys to where you'll sit out the resta the war."
>Wanting to get the truth out of the way, no matter how awful it may be, you immediately asked: "Andersonville?"
>"...Probably, but there're a lotta trains, so you might go someplace worse."

>That guard was right about your first destination. Your group came to a stop at the back of a sea of other Federal captives, all standing between you and a locomotive. Despite your unfortunately short height, you could see several boxcars behind the engine that the many prisoners were being ushered into.
>In some involuntary action, you lifted your black hat from your side and put it on. It wasn't a typical kepi that most Union soldiers wore, but instead a black dress hat; an item unique to the Iron Brigade you were in.
>As you were being pushed forward, you scanned the crowd for anyone you might recognize. It quickly proved pointless, but when you looked left, something strange happened.
>There was someone in the distance, standing on the grass and talking to his colleagues. You presumed him to be a Rebel officer based on the length of his gray coat. Suddenly, he raised his arm and pointed in your direction, as if he saw you looking his way. As soon as he did, a guard by his side marched right into the mob, harshly cutting through the crowd with his rifle.
>You accidentally felt your shoulder bump into another prisoner's back. He shoved you from your right, snapping your attention away. "Watch it!" he barked through a filthy brown beard. You only mumbled an apology as you looked back toward the officer.
>As soon as you did, the near-elderly Reb guard appeared on your left and firmly grabbed your arm. "C'mere, son!" he shouted over the commotion with a smile that lacked multiple teeth, "The General wishes to see ya!"
>You were in complete disbelief that you were being singled out. "What?! Why?" you asked as he pulled you away.
>"Just follow me, son!" he replied, "She didn't say WHY, but I was ordered to take ya to her!"
>"She?"

>You finally broke through the crowd and got a good look at who summoned you.
>When Jackson died after Chancellorsville, his old Corps was apparently reassigned to another Lieutenant General named "Dixie", a name so fitting you thought it was fake. Nobody you talked to heard of him before the war or knew what he looked like, so rumors were all you had to paint his imaginary portrait.
>Everything you heard was disproven in the very instant your eyes met General Dixie. It seemed only the bizarre statement that he "wasn't a man at all" was true.
>When you thought of a Confederate General, the last thing that entered your mind was a modified nandroid, yet there she was. She stood just slightly taller than you, but not the men around her. Her smooth wooden face showed as much wear as the streaks of gray running through her brown hair. How fake hair could gray naturally, you had no idea.
>Everything below her neck was concealed by her uniform, but her visible wide hips matched those of a human woman who had endured multiple pregnancies. You felt odd looking at her, to say the least.
>"You're awful short for an officer, hon!" she said with a smirk, "You ARE an officer, aren't you? That hat you got is lookin' too fine for a private's head!"
>An officer? Is that why you were pulled out of the group? Did she not know that were you one, there would be shoulder boards on your coat to display your rank?
>"I... I AM just a private, Ma'am," you told her. "In the Iron Brigade, we always wear dress hats instead of kepis-"
>Her eyes lit up. "The Iron Brigade?" she asked, her smile vanishing.
>"Yes, Ma'am. 2nd Wisconsin, company D."
>She motioned for you to step closer and turned to the Reb guards. "I'd like to take a little walk with this here young man alone, if you boys don't mind. Tell Colonel Ardwick he's in charge of these pris'ners till I get back."

>What a strange day so far, you thought to yourself. It wasn't every day you strolled through a meadow with a robotic General of the opposing army.
>"How old are you, hon?" was the first thing she asked once the Rebs were out of view.
>"Nineteen, Ma'am," you answered, confused. "Was seventeen when I enlisted."
>"Boy, with your height and shave, I didn't think you a day over thirteen!" she said while chuckling.
>"I hear that a lot, General," you replied, stone-faced.
>"You got family back in Wisconsin? ...A sweetheart?" You sighed in frustration as you prepared a pathetic (yet honest) answer.
>"...I got plenty of family there, Ma'am, but I'm still a bachelor. All the girls there think I'm too short."
>"Oh, that's terrible!" you could tell she stifled another laugh, "Yankee gals miss out on a lotta good men because they judge every petty thang of his, even if it's somethin' he can't control!"
>Hardly a military-related conversation, clearly. Her voice then became low, almost like a seductive whisper. "Trust me, hon, if you stayed in Carolina, you wouldn't be lonely for long. We southern women are drawn to men with good character like bees to-"
>"Excuse me..." you stopped walking and gave her a humorless look. "What is this you're trying to do? Did you really think I was an officer because of my hat? I'm not otherwise dressed like one."
>"Well, I did from a distance, but then you said you were..." she started to trail off. The subject suddenly changed as fast as her expression did. "I pulled you away from the guards because I remembered how your damn brigade thrashed one of mine at Gettysburg... I respect how well you fought, but I may only forgive you if you do somethin' for me, sugar."
>"Really? What might that be?" you asked, wondering if you should have to bolt into the nearby woods in a moment.
>"It's easy, hon," she said as she inched closer, setting her white-gloved hands on your shoulders. "Just don't make a noise for the next few minutes. As much as my men would hate to hear it... there are times when like you Yankees a little TOO much."
>Before you had time to register what she said, she moved a hand to the back of your head and pulled you towards her face. Her tongue pierced your closed lips like a bayonet and furiously writhed around the inside of your mouth.
>You tried to push her away almost immediately, but virtually all your strength was depleted from marching in the terrible heat. However, you soon decided to give in to her hateful kiss. Given that you hadn't so much as talked to a woman in well over a year, it was satisfying to get some kind of 'physical' contact, even from a wooden robot.
>When you broke free of her oral grip, she looked much less angry than a minute ago. "All my children are half Yankee, Billy," she murmured, "and I always make sure of that. They never fail to carry both their father's bravery and my Southern patriotism into battle. I reckon my next child'll fight as well as, dare I say... the Iron Brigade?"
>"You have children?!" you asked, dumbfounded and dwelling on the wrong point, "How is that physically possible? You're a nandroid!"
>She said nothing as she unbuckled her belt and dropped her saber on a tree stump beside her. "Am I?" she responded with a grin.
>You knew every man in both armies would foam at the mouth if they ever found out what the General did with you shortly afterwards. Needless to say, she never elaborated on what she meant by those two words.