“Well, it explains why they brung us in,” Felix said to Darby. I could see by his expression he was neither pleased nor surprised by this bit of information.
“What do you mean?” I wanted to know.
“We’ve seen a bit of fighting ourselves. Been in it since the beginning,” Darby explained. “So we do our time, and when it’s time for re-enlistment, well…it don’t go like it should. Lest you think us poor sports, I’ll explain it to you.” Darby was a nice enough man. Although somewhat of a spoilsport, I grew to like him. He certainly didn’t mince words. No sir. He chewed at his mustache, which I learned was a particular habit of his, as he told us of their trials.
“The big men up top, they tell us we may choose where we go, you see. Do nothin’ more than tell ’em and it be done on account of our brave service to this great country. And we can choose artillery battery from Massachusetts, we can choose a regular army battery, or now we can choose this here outfit, the 121st. So we put our bids in you see, only to find it don’t matter one way or the other, we all get put with the 121st. All of us.”
“You don’t say?” Mr. Haney said, seeming genuinely sorry for their trouble.
“How can they do that?” I asked. It made no sense to me. Why give them a choice if they really didn’t have one to begin with?
“They can do whatever they like.” Felix laughed, a brittle, humorless sort of laugh. But it was clear he didn’t find it amusing. “They are the government. They make the rules. And we poor saps must abide by them.”
I simply couldn’t believe it. They were done wrong; there was no way around it. After serving their country with honor for nearly three years now, they’d been cruelly betrayed. I realized I was nothing more than a naïve child. Every time I grew to think I understood the ways of the world, I was shocked anew by some weightier and more distressing truth.
“Someone must have a sympathetic ear in Washington for us to be here,” Darby said, finishing off his coffee. “But Felix and me, we’ll make the best of it. Only some didn’t take it as well.”
Felix tossed what was left of his coffee into the bushes. “Yes, we will make the best of it,” he agreed.
The following day we discovered for ourselves just what Darby meant. Tempers flared and a dozen or more men from the 16th stood idle during drill in outright rebellion for having been forced into the 121st. They refused to comply with orders. Captain Kidder was furious with their dissension. His face colored up and his nostrils flared like a bad-tempered horse. I’d only seen him in such a state a few times and knew to be on guard for what was to follow.
“Mutinous dogs!” he screamed in their faces. “You’ve just earned yourselves picket duty!”
One of them yelled out, “I won’t do it!” He was a mean looking cuss. Looking him in the eyes gave me a jolt. Then a few others joined in with him. “I won’t neither!”
The man who began the protest, a man with a wild set of whiskers and some bad teeth from chewing tobacco, hollered, “We are expected to fight for the freedom of them darkies, while our freedoms are being trampled asunder! We won’t have it!”
Captain Kidder was madder than a wet hen. His eyes fairly bulged out of his head, making him appear even more menacing if it was possible. He smiled in a malicious way.
“Oh, but you will!” he said. Then he called out names. “Privates Jepson, Barlow, Stapleton, and Hardy, Vanderbilt, Stark, and Walters step forward.” We did as we were told, each of us eyeing the other in uncomfortable ignorance of what was to come next. We had no idea what Captain Kidder called us forward for.
“Your task will be to escort these soldiers to their posts this evening. If any man is derelict in his duties you will shoot him on the spot. No questions asked.” He then turned to the men who caused the stir in the first place and gave them a scorching glance as he continued to address us. “We do not put up with deserters, and likewise, do not tolerate treasonous acts. Is that understood?”
We all at once said, “Yes, sir,” with the utmost zeal. None of us was about to cross him, because there was something completely terrifying about his manner. Then he turned his attention back to the men who refused to do their duties.
“I don’t know how you did it in the 16th, boys, but here in the 121st we have rules, and as with all rules, there are consequences for insubordination.” He stalked off, throwing “Dismissed!” over his shoulder as he left.
If nothing else, they succeeded in putting the Captain in a very bad mood. The eight of us who were chosen were very reluctant to do as we were commanded, but we had little choice in the matter. It was a command, and none of us wanted to be punished like the others were now being punished.
When evening came, with our rifles at the ready, we escorted them, as instructed, to picket duty. There were two of them to every one of us. They most likely could have overpowered us if they wanted to. I was downright nervous with the strain of watching over my assigned two. It didn’t help I somehow got the wild whiskered fellow under my charge. His chops were long and bushy, wiry and wavy, which gave him a fearsome and untamed appearance. I remembered with a sinking feeling it was he who started the whole rebellion among the newcomers during drills.
I tried to appear strong, with my rifle held defensively up in front of me, but he was a good head taller than I was, and I would guess he was enjoying the thought of toying with me. He waited until I was slightly more comfortable with my duty and then he sprang at me with a low and rough growl. I was so taken off guard and startled I jumped a mile. This brought on fits of laughter from him and many of the others. I glared, narrowing my eyes and frowning. He made a goose of me in front of everyone.
“Don’t worry, little boy, I don’t bite,” he said, laughing again.
“Hey, you let him alone,” Sam said gruffly. He seemed genuinely angry over my mistreatment, which surprised me. I would have thought it would make him glad, bring him satisfaction, and he would have been laughing with the others.
“You think you can take on a man like me?” he taunted, ignoring Sam completely and only concentrating on me. “You think you can shoot me ’fore I get a hold of you and snap that skinny little neck of yours? ’Cause I’d be willing to take bets on it.”
I felt my throat ache from the thought of it. I didn’t want to mess with him, but I knew I would lose my standing among the others if I didn’t stand up to his challenge.
“I’m not so much afraid of your bite, Mister. You may resemble a dog, even bark like one too, but from the looks of those rotted teeth, your bark is worse than your bite. Pretty sure you’d accomplish nothing more than tickling me good with those pretty whiskers of yours. More likely to be your stench to kill me first,” I blurted.
This got a good round of laughs from everyone too, even some of his friends from the 16th. But he didn’t seem to appreciate my joke. He moved as if he might attack me, but Sam, his rifle ready, pushed the metal barrel to his whiskered cheek none too gently.
“You make everyone wonder as to whether you got a sense of humor,” he said. “Now just you be a good sport and laugh it off.”
“Oh, now, Sam, you gone and spoiled his fun,” I taunted. “Let him go and just see how far he gets before I expire from his fumes. Put the rifle aside and let’s have a good show out of it.”
Old Whiskers didn’t seem to care Sam’s rifle was on him, he defiantly spat on my boots. I did what I could to hold myself steady, to not react. It took all of the will power I possessed to stand still and not turn and run. I could feel every muscle straining, every nerve tense.
“Looks like you made yourself a friend, Frank,” Sam said. “He wants to polish your boots for you.”
“Thanks just the same,” I replied, “but I can take care to polish my own boots. Now what say you to cutting out this tomfoolery and getting back to the business at hand?”
Tensions were high, and having nothing else to do but escalate it, he decided to save face, turned back around, and minded his manners for the rest of picket duty. We broke up
and spread out along the line, and I was left alone with the two men I was guardian over. They behaved, although I couldn’t help but notice murder in Old Whisker’s eyes every time he chanced a glance at me. I just smiled sweetly until he looked away. I’ll call your bluff, I thought. I won’t back down from a bully.
Already I had a strong and abiding hatred for him. And although I didn’t know him at all, I was sure among all the enemy, in all the South, there was not a more despicable character than that man. I realized too I would have need to watch my back with him from here on out. I knew for certain I couldn’t trust the lowlife. The second my guard was down, I had no doubt he would strike.
Chapter 6
WHAT WERE WE WAITING for during all of this time at winter camp in Falmouth? It seemed the General was waiting for Lee to make a move. We stayed camped across from the enemy, the river being the only thing keeping us separate. And as we watched them, they watched us, an uneasy anticipation mounting between the two. We knew the informal truce could not last forever.
I heard one of the men say in passing, “It’s getting about time for a Bull Run fight.”
I was not there to experience Bull Run. But I knew enough of it to know it was a terrible scene. After having just been through Salem Church I felt great apprehension at the thought I would have to endure another battle. Every idle moment I tried to fill with chores or diversions just to spare myself the anxiety of dwelling on what was coming.
I was grateful to Mr. Haney for lending me a novel called A Dark Night’s Work. Reading took my mind off of my worries. I enjoyed the premise of it very much, although it made me sad the main character, Ellinor, had to settle for anyone but her true love. I wrote to my father more frequently, describing life in camp, embellishing when needed, so he wouldn’t worry over me. I foraged for food, which was an easier task now the weather was warmer.
Indeed, as cold and miserable as the winter was, it was now just as hot and dreadfully uncomfortable. Our sense of time became muddled in our minds. We received our news from papers days and weeks old. From this somewhat unsteady form of information we gathered that down south, Vicksburg was soon to fall. And each day we awaited confirmation of it.
On a hot June day, in the beginning of the month, we were baffled by what transpired next. We received orders to accompany Sedgwick and the 6th Corps across the river back to Fredericksburg. In quick order we packed up and abandoned our winter camp, following wherever we were led.
“What does this mean?” some of the men murmured. No one had a clear understanding of what was happening. Were we to join forces with another body of soldiers? Were we to engage in a similar offense to the one that left us broken and battered at Salem Church, acting as a decoy again?
Whatever the case, it was not for us to know, only for us to follow. Union artillery set up north of the river, making a way for us to cross undercover in the pontoons. If nothing else, we were certainly getting wear out of those pontoons of ours. There was some gunfire exchanged, but not anything to be alarmed over, just the usual skirmishing that often accompanied movement of any kind. The enemy pickets wanted us to know they were aware of us, and we wanted them to know we would put up a fight if need be. We made it safe to the other shore.
We watched as the last of the procession crossed over after us. The cannons, artillery guns, and wagons rumbled over the pontoons in a slow and winding column. I can’t say for sure how it happened, perhaps the horses were spooked by something, but one of the wagons lurched forward and sideways just as it reached the bank. The wheels were at a side angle on the steep incline and the horses neighing and straining against the reins positioned in such a way that the whole thing tipped over, dashing the wagon cover and hoop to bits and breaking the axle as contents spilled out across the grass.
The driver attempted to jump clear, rolling along the ground and away from his rig. Just as I became aware of whom it was, a large group of soldiers surged forward and descended upon the wagon in a wave. Grabbing what they could get their hands on and then running away just as quickly as they had come they stripped the wagon clean. The driver of the wagon, Mr. Davies the hated sutler, was now standing and watching helplessly. He was yelling and screaming and carrying on, jumping up and down in an extreme and agitated state. He took his hat from his head and began waving it as if he were trying to shoo away flies.
Before long there was nothing left in his wagon. The soldiers took it all and retreated back to the line, shoving their loot into their pockets and haversacks with broad grins. Mr. Davies was left to the side of the river with only his busted up rig and the horses still chomping at their bits and prancing about in an obviously nervous state. Mr. Davies looked as though he were in shock and then he picked up a stick and began whipping the horses as though he held them accountable for what happened. I couldn’t make out what he was saying but I could imagine he was cussing up a storm.
“Looks like the sutler got his,” Darby said as he spit on the ground.
“Bad deeds and dishonest dealings have a way of catching up to a man,” Mr. Haney added.
I thought of how mean and low down he was, and I thought maybe he deserved it until Mr. Haney said that. Then I thought I was no better than Mr. Davies. I was dishonest. I was a liar. Who was I to judge the sutler? I suddenly felt sick and couldn’t stand to watch any longer, turning away from the scene in disgust.
The next several days we spent hard at work, digging and refortifying the rifle pits used in our earlier campaign against Fredericksburg. This was the place we stayed at Franklin’s Crossing before the battle nearly two months ago. It was backbreaking work, leaving you thirsty and tired and ready for sleep at night. I welcomed this effort, because it took my mind off of things and helped me with my sleeplessness. Each time I put my shovel in and dumped the dirt to the side, my ribs would ache but I continued on.
Now we saw the Rebels and they saw us. We set up a short distance away and lingered by a mounted one-hundred-pound gun artillery set up to try to scare them off of causing trouble. Really it was no use to us. The gun would best serve for a siege, not field combat. I don’t suppose the Rebs much liked the threat we posed. On an afternoon with nothing to fill our time and the idleness prompting us to behave childishly, the Rebel battery opposite us took aim (although not too carefully) and in sailed a cannon ball the size of a melon, bounced and then rolled a short distance from where we were sitting. It gave us a start, breaking the monotony of what was an otherwise uneventful day.
Vern got up and walked over to where it came to rest. He inspected it with his hands on his hips, as though he was quite put out by the nerve of them sending it our way.
“Damn Graybacks,” he muttered, bending over to pick up the ball. His air was drawn in with a hiss as he promptly dropped it. “Hot!” He blew on his fingertips.
“We gonna let ’em get away with that?” Darby questioned. “Let’s fire back, let ’em know we ain’t afraid of the likes of them.”
“We don’t have anyone telling us to return it,” Sam said. “Besides, they were just messing around, otherwise they would’ve blown us to pieces.”
Felix walked over to the gun which was mounted on a wooden carriage, its cavernous mouth pointed at nothing in particular. He ran his hand along the cool metal. It was a big gun, the cylinder nearly twelve feet long and weighing ten thousand pounds. Those types of guns, as large and cumbersome as they were, were not as easy to move and maneuver as the smaller parrott guns we lugged around. It was an impressive size to say the least.
“I always wanted to see what it was like to fire one of these,” he commented.
One of the new men, belonging to the pair of Carroll brothers, joined him with an eager grin. “Let’s try her out and see what she’ll do,” he prodded.
“If you never fired one, it’d probably be best if you didn’t try it now,” I cautioned.
“What could it hurt?” Felix asked.
“Just one round, that’s all,” the Carroll brother begged, a
s if he were a small child pleading for candy.
I saw they weren’t going to listen to me. I shrugged my shoulders and moved away from them, not wanting to be associated with their foolishness. I knew we weren’t trained to fire that gun—it was artillery’s duty—and I did not want to get in trouble for it. Yet I watched with interest to see what would happen.
“How does it work?” the Carroll brother asked.
At this point Old Whiskers joined up with them, acting very put out by it all and quite the authority on hundred pounders. “Bunch of pansies,” he complained. “You take this here gun powder and put it in the barrel, tamp it down nice and tight. You load that there ball into it and let it go.”
“How much you think?” The Carroll brother was hefting a bag of gun powder and weighing it in his arms.
“Ten pound ought to do it,” Old Whiskers replied.
The Carroll brother emptied most of the bag down the barrel and took the large tamping rod from the ground, discovering it was not an easy thing for one man to lift.
“Come over here and give me a hand, Leonard,” he called to his brother. Leonard grumbled as he got up from the ground and came over to help with the tamper stick. The younger brother gingerly ran it down the length of the cylinder with the help of Leonard. I’m not sure if he thought it would explode in his face or if he was just nervous about the whole process in general, but he took a great deal of care with it, which spurred on Jack Monroe’s disapproval.
“You ain’t making cake here, boy. Give it a good pounding.”
“All right,” Carroll brother (who must have been Alden if Leonard was his other half) said defensively. He gave it a couple of good thrusts and then stepped back.
“Now load the ball,” Old Whiskers advised impatiently.
Felix and Alden picked the ball from a short row of them in the grass, struggled to lift it, and then sent it down the barrel. The heavy ball could be heard descending clumsily down the metal chamber and then came to rest with a thud at the bottom of the tube. I think we half expected it to blow up, our anticipation evident as we all kept our eyes glued to the gun, ready to run if need be, but it didn’t blow up. It came to an anticlimactic rest and then all was quiet for a moment. The rest of us watched from a safe distance.
The Discovered Page 3