America felt a pounding in his head. He had been getting a lot of those lately. It might be because of the stress. The north and south had been fighting a lot. He didn't know what to do. He closed his eyes. He thought to him self, 'I need to stop this'. He got up and telegraphed England. He sent him a message asking for his advise on the matter. It took England three long hours to reply. America read the message. It read as this: I think you might break into war soon. If you notice any small children about, check to make sure they're not the other side. 'That was helpful' he thought sarcastically. He went to bed.

When he woke up he was in a room he had not recognized. He looked and saw it was not the north where he went to bed. He was on a plantation. In the south. He heard a voice calling.

"Lieutenant Jones! Are you forgetting to fight to liberate us?" a female voice called in a heavy southern ascent.

"From what?" America replied. He dreaded the reply he knew would come.

"Well from the Yankees of course! Now wash up and get ready. The platoon is going to march soon." The voice faded away from the door. He looked around. On the bedside was a confederate uniform. He had somehow developed an alter ego that had taken him the enemy. He wondered how long it would take him to get home. And how long it would take for the southern side of him to take him back.