The Farmer’s Union and Confederate troops began to position their simplistic cannons. The year was 1923, after all, and the North still had better weapons like tanks. The cannons fired.

“Holy-” The second barrage began. Beckett ducked his head as shrapnel sliced up his platoon. How’d they get flak cannons? Beckett worried enormously. An open field formation of troops carrying obviously outdated rifles and muskets moved closer. A drum player began a war tune, and a barrage flew overhead.

The pound of a Howitzer gun from next to him, followed up by another five, resulted in the formation exploding instantly. “That was a little too close,” Beckett yelled to the artillerymen, “We gotta be careful. I think the Kaiser might’ve joined up with ‘dem Feds or somethin’. They got flak.” An infantryman came running towards the base at full speed, waving the American flag.

“Sir,” Lieutenant Sherman ran toward the General. “the Bear Republic has agreed to join us!

A faroff oasis across hostile lands…