by Al Lacy
The prisoners stood silently, exchanging troubled glances.
Wirz returned to his cabin, and Fisher chose ten guards to accompany the new men to their assigned area they would call home.
While Fisher and the guards were escorting the new men past areas occupied by Union prisoners who looked on in silence, Lieutenant Edgar Toomey slipped up beside Captain William Linden and whispered, “You got us into this mess, Linden. If you’d listened to me, we wouldn’t be in this pig sty of a prison camp.”
“I would rather be in this prison camp than to be free and know I was a cowardly deserter.”
Toomey’s face darkened. “Are you callin’ me a cowardly deserter?”
“That’s exactly what you are!”
Toomey released a gust of hot breath and moved back with his friends, Lewis and Zediker. Keeping his voice low, he told them what Linden had just said. As they looked at Toomey with frowns on their brows, he hissed, “He’s gonna die! One way or another, I’m gonna kill ‘im!”
When they reached the area the new prisoners would occupy, Lieutenant Harry Fisher stood before them. He pointed out the small piles of tattered cloth and canvas, along with some broken tree limbs that could be used to support them as shelters.
“Now listen to me. You are to stay in this area, which as you can see, is bordered by a line of small stones around the perimeter. All the areas in the compound are marked off the same way. You are not to move among the other prisoners. That is a hard and fast regulation. Believe me, you don’t want to face the consequence of disobeying this edict. When it’s time for meals or bathing in the stream that runs through here, you will be led by guards. The privies are quite visible from here. You will visit them one at a time and walk the path that leads directly to them. Never step off the path. Guards will be watching you at all times. Break the rules, and you will be sorry.”
At that moment, two guards approached the area. One was carrying a roll of canvas, and the other bore two sturdy pieces of tree limbs, uniform in length, along with four short ones to be used as stakes. “What is your name, Captain?” asked Fisher.
“William Linden,” came the soft reply.
“Well, Captain Linden, I have ordered a tent for you. We supply them for those prisoners with the rank of captain or above.”
Linden shook his head. “Thank you, Lieutenant Fisher, but I can’t do that. My shelter should be no better than those of my men.”
“Hey, Captain!” spoke up a lieutenant. “It’s all right. We men of A Company want you to take it, right, fellas?”
There was a chorus of voices expressing agreement. Abstaining were Toomey, Lewis, and Zediker.
When Linden shook his head, declining, the same voices pressed him to accept Fisher’s offer. Finally, Linden nodded, ran his gaze over their faces, and said, “All right, since you insist. And thank you.”
Toomey, Lewis, and Zediker looked at each other with sour expressions on their faces.
The guard who held the canvas placed it in Linden’s hands, and the other guard gave him the lengths of tree limbs and the stakes.
When the guards left, the men went to work to make themselves shelters with what little materials had been provided.
Edgar Toomey picked up his share of cloth, canvas, and broken tree limbs, and glared at Captain Linden, who was stretching out the canvas to set up his one-man tent. While Toomey was putting the materials together to make his crude shelter, he glanced at the nearest area to the east, which was some thirty yards away. He saw a husky Union sergeant who was adjusting a pole on a complete one-man canvas tent. His eyes bulged. He told himself the tent couldn’t belong to a mere sergeant. It had to belong to an officer. But when the sergeant slipped inside and closed the flap, he knew the tent was his.
Looking around, Toomey couldn’t see any guards nearby. He headed across his own assigned area in the direction of the adjacent one.
“Hey, Edgar!” came Corporal Todd Zediker’s voice.
Toomey paused and looked over his shoulder at him. “Where you goin’?”
“Just takin’ a little walk. See you later.” With that, he crossed the line of small stones and hurried toward his destination.
Keith Lewis drew up beside Zediker, watching Toomey go. “What’s he doin’?”
Zediker shrugged. “I haven’t the least idea.”
Suddenly, Captain William Linden was beside them. “He’s fixing to get himself in trouble, that’s what he’s doing.”
Both of them looked at Linden coldly.
He met their frigid eyes. “You two are going to suffer if you continue to follow him. He’s on a beeline for the whipping post.”
Without a word, they turned their backs on him and walked away.
Linden glanced across the open area as Toomey was stepping over the stone line at the other area, shook his head, and went back to setting up his tent.
Some of the men in the other area looked at Toomey askance as he moved past them and approached the tent belonging to the sergeant. Standing over it, he called, “Hey, Sergeant! Come out here! I’m Lieutenant Toomey of A Company, Third Pennsylvania Cavalry.”
The flap snapped back, and the burly sergeant crawled out, rising to his feet. He had a neck like a tree trunk, shoulders and arms to match, and a square, rugged face. He eyed Toomey quizzically. “Aren’t you trespassing, Lieutenant?”
Toomey ignored the question. “I want this tent.”
The sergeant’s features stiffened. “Well, you can’t have it.”
“I outrank you, and I’m taking the tent. How did you get it, anyway? You’re just a sergeant.”
“Well, you’re just a lieutenant. Only captains, majors, colonels, and generals get tents. It just so happens that I did Lieutenant Harry Fisher a good turn a few weeks ago, and he gave me the tent. If you want a tent, you’ll have to get it elsewhere. And may I remind you that you are outside your own bounds?”
Toomey’s eyes blazed. “Who are you to talk to me like that?” His right fist stabbed a lightning-fast punch to the sergeant’s jaw, knocking him down.
The sergeant bounded to his feet, shook his shoulders, and sent a blow to Toomey’s jaw, flattening him. He lay there stunned, shaking his head and blinking.
Suddenly three guards were on the scene. One of them was Sergeant Dan Tyler, who bent over, grasped Toomey’s hand, and hoisted him to his feet. “Lieutenant, what are you doing out of your area?”
Toomey scrubbed a palm over his eyes while still shaking his head. He stared hard at Tyler and surprised him by hooking a terrific right to his temple.
Before Toomey could move another muscle, the other two guards seized him, wrestled him to the ground, and pinned him there. While Dan Tyler was getting up, one of the guards who held Toomey said, “You’re gonna be sorry you hit Sergeant Tyler! Lieutenant Fisher saw it, and is on his way. You’ll taste of the whip now.”
Tyler stood over them, rubbing his jaw. Fisher quickly drew up. He glared down at the man who was held in the iron grip of the two guards. “What’s your name, Lieutenant?”
Toomey swallowed hard. “Edgar Toomey.”
“Well, Edgar Toomey, you are going to be punished severely for striking Sergeant Tyler. Pick him up, men. He’s going to the whipping post.”
Toomey’s face turned gray.
The other prisoners in the area looked on, as well as those in nearby areas. The guards in the towers were watching, and one close to the gate was hurrying down the stairs. When he reached the ground, he dashed toward the commandant’s cabin.
Dan Tyler took a step closer to Fisher. “Lieutenant …”
“Yes?”
“How about letting it go this time? Toomey is understandably under a heavy strain, having just arrived here at the prison camp. Since it was me he punched, I’m asking you to spare him the whipping. He needs discipline for leaving his area, but not the severity of the whip.”
Toomey set astonished eyes on Tyler, wondering why this Rebel sergeant would want to show him
mercy—especially after he had just punched him and knocked him down.
Fisher was pondering Tyler’s words when Captain Henry Wirz appeared, panting. “What’s going on, here?”
Dan Tyler explained to Wirz that Toomey had punched him, and gave the same reason to him as he had to Fisher for leniency in the first offense.
At that instant, the Union sergeant stepped up. “Captain Wirz, this all started when Toomey came into this area and demanded that I give him my tent because he outranks me. When I told him he couldn’t have it and reminded him that he was out of his area, he punched me. I punched him back, and before he could get up, Sergeant Tyler and these other two guards showed up.”
Wirz set his eyes on Toomey. “You broke the rule on leaving your area. For this, you will be made to stand at attention for the rest of the day, and all night. You will be denied supper and breakfast. And because you would dare to strike one of the guards, you will be given twenty lashes at the whipping post in addition to these other punishments.”
Tyler cleared his throat gently. “Sir, I—”
“Request denied, Sergeant. I appreciate your commiseration for this man, but he needs to learn his lesson. Take him to the whipping post. I’ll be right behind you to give instructions to Sergeant Landrum.”
Tyler gripped Toomey’s arm. “Let’s go. The whipping post is over there by the barn and corral.”
Reluctantly, Toomey walked alongside Tyler as they moved across the compound. Toomey noticed the men in his area looking on. Captain William Linden was shaking his head.
Tyler and Toomey were several steps ahead of Wirz, Fisher, and the other guards. Toomey glared at Tyler. “How come you tried to keep me from bein’ whipped? We’re enemies. And besides that, I punched you.”
“I’ll tell you why. I’m a Christian, Lieutenant. And as a born-again child of God, I wanted to show you compassion. I know being captured and locked up has to be very rough on a man.”
Fire leaped into Toomey’s eyes and wrath reddened his face. In a mocking, singsong manner, he said, “You wanted to show me compassion. Bah! I hate you born-again types who think you’re so high and mighty. You’re just a bunch of hypocrites who want to make yourselves look good with your facade of compassion.”
“You’re wrong,” Dan said. “It is just that we born-again types have experienced the compassion of the Lord Jesus Christ in forgiving our sins and saving our souls. We want to show the same kind of compassion and forgiveness to those who have wronged us.”
Toomey spit on the ground and swore. “You hypocrite! If I could get you alone, I’d beat you to a pulp! Then the real Dan Tyler would surface, wouldn’t he?”
“Cool down, Toomey. You’re only going to make things harder on yourself.”
Suddenly Toomey leaped a step ahead of Tyler, pivoted, and swung a fist at his face. Tyler dodged the blow and sent a thrust to his jaw, knocking him down.
Captain Wirz and Lieutenant Fisher rushed up, as well as the guards.
“Pick him up!” commanded Wirz.
Two of the guards lifted a dazed Toomey to his feet, holding him securely. Wirz’s features were beet red as he faced Toomey. “Just for swinging at Sergeant Tyler, you’re going to get an additional ten lashes at the whipping post. Maybe that’ll settle you down!”
While Toomey was trying to shake the cobwebs from the walls of his brain, he was dragged to the whipping post. His brain was clearing when he focused on a massive man with sergeant’s stripes on his shirt. There was a bullwhip in his hand. The tail of the whip lay in a coil on the ground. Toomey’s jaw slacked.
Wirz stepped in front of him. “Lieutenant Toomey, meet Sergeant Whip Landrum. His real name is Bartholomew, but I think you can guess why we call him Whip.”
Toomey’s face was now deathly pale.
One of the guards removed Toomey’s shirt, then he was tied to the whipping post with a leather thong. His entire body quivered.
A half dozen horses in the corral looked on curiously.
“Okay, Whip,” said the commandant. “Give him thirty lashes.”
When the whipping had been administered, Edgar Toomey’s back was laced with bright red welts. Some were seeping blood. His wrists were released from the leather thong, and a guard held him up while another one put his shirt on him.
Captain Wirz stood before Toomey again. “Sergeant Tyler is going to escort you back to your area. I hope you will learn your lesson by the time it’s all over, Lieutenant Edgar Toomey.” Then he said to Fisher, “Assign two guards to watch this man all night in his area. They are to make sure he stands at attention the entire time. He will get no supper tonight and no breakfast in the morning.”
Toomey gave Wirz a dull look, but remained silent.
Dan Tyler took hold of Toomey’s arm. “Let’s go, Lieutenant.”
As Dan was escorting the man back to his assigned area, Toomey looked at him with hate-filled eyes.
Dan sighed. “You had better get over this rebellious spirit, Lieutenant, or there will be more discipline.”
Toomey’s lips were tight against his teeth.
When they reached the area, all the men were looking on. Captain William Linden stepped up to meet them. “Edgar, when are you going to learn that you can’t buck the whole world?”
Toomey’s face was like a metal mask. In spite of it, the pain he was experiencing showed in his eyes. “I got nothin’ to say to you, Linden.”
Keith Lewis and Todd Zediker were waiting. Toomey moved past Linden and drew up to his friends. Tyler was still at his side.
Lewis asked, “Are you hurtin’ much, Edgar?”
“Naw. The whip didn’t hurt at all. I’m fine.”
Lewis and Zediker exchanged glances and shook their heads.
Dan saw the two guards coming who would be with Toomey until morning.
He looked at Toomey. “We both know the whip did hurt you, Lieutenant. I hope the pain eases soon.”
Toomey’s eyes were like bits of slate. “Haven’t you got someplace to go, you pious hypocrite?”
Dan held his gaze for a few seconds. “Your guards are here.” With that, he turned and walked away.
Zediker’s brow furrowed. “Your two guards?”
“Yeah. For mixin’ it up with Tyler I got whipped, and for leavin’ my assigned area, I gotta stand at attention from now till mornin’. They’re here to see that I do it. No supper. No breakfast.”
“You should know better than to resist a guard,” said Lewis, “and you shouldn’t have gone over there to that other area.”
While the guards were drawing close, Toomey set cold eyes on Dan Tyler. “Someday when this war is over, I’m gonna find that Dan Tyler and beat him to a pulp.”
Zediker eyed him with amazement. “The guards told us that Tyler tried to persuade Wirz not to have you whipped, even though you punched him. I don’t understand your hatred for the man.”
“Tyler is one of those religious fanatics that calls himself a born-again Christian. I can see right through him. His supposed effort to keep me from bein’ whipped was only to make himself look good. He’s nothin’ but a two-faced hypocrite.”
The guards drew up. “Toomey, we’re going to put you over here at the edge of the area. You will stand at full attention until we tell you to do otherwise. If you give us any trouble, you’ll pay a little visit to Whip Landrum again. Got it?”
Toomey gave them a bland look. “Yeah. I got it.”
As the weeks passed, Edgar Toomey continued to be a problem, especially to Dan Tyler. Because of the rules laid down by Captain Wirz, Tyler was forced to see that Toomey was disciplined in various ways for his rebellion.
On Saturday, November 5, Dan was at the infirmary getting a damaged ear stitched up when Captain Wirz came in. Dan was sitting on the examining table while the prison physician worked on the ear. Wirz said, “Your pals Clay Holden and Joel Stevens came to my cabin and told me that Toomey jumped you and tried to tear your ear off, Sergeant. Is that so?”
“Well, he’s crossed the line, now. This is enough. He has been whipped four times and put under all kinds of discipline, but nothing seems to work. This is the fourth time he has attacked you. I’ll order a firing squad for dawn tomorrow.”
Dan’s features pinched. “Please, sir. I’m the only one Toomey has attacked physically. Don’t kill him. I know we have no way of putting him in solitary confinement, or I would say we should do that. But please don’t kill him.”
Wirz sighed. “That goes against your Christian principles, does it?”
“Yes, sir. To kill the enemy in battle is one thing, but to put him before a firing squad is another. He has not committed a capital crime.”
Wirz thought on it. “Well, I could have him put in wrist and ankle chains. Would you object to that?”
“No. He definitely needs to be constrained.”
“All right, Sergeant. I’ll have him put in chains. Is his ear going to be all right, Doctor?”
“He’ll be fine, Captain.”
On Tuesday, November 22, when Toomey had just been whipped again for trying to attack Sergeant Dan Tyler in spite of his chains, he was lying facedown on the ground next to the hole he had dug for himself. Lewis and Zediker were at their spots close by. Tyler crossed the area and drew up to him. Pain showed in Toomey’s face as he twisted his head and looked up. “What do you want?”
“When are you going to learn, Toomey? Do you like pain?”
Toomey only glared at him.
Tyler looked at Lewis and Zediker. “You two better talk some sense into your friend’s head.”
When Tyler was gone, Lewis said, “Edgar, your hatred for Tyler is gonna end up gettin’ you killed if you’re not careful.”