FRIENDS OF THE WIGWAM: A Civil War Story
Page 8
All waited in anticipation for what the next maneuver would bring. Police continued to clear the crowds to either side of the street, Dearborn Street to Lakeshore Park, a good mile away.
“Company, re…form!” Elmer commanded. The ten squares quickly formed into a single square again. Bayonets snapped in unison in the long leather sheaths at each man’s side.
“Present arms!” Musketoons were then raised to waist level at shoulder side.
Elmer in consecutive quick commands shouted, “Ready! March! Quick time! Then double-quick time!” With each command, the forty moved like a marching machine with boots slamming the muddy street with a thud and all eyes and muskets forward. Crowds pressed against the buildings en masse as the pace of Elmer’s command quickened.
And then the unexpected happened.
“Prepare to fire!”
In full quickstep each Zouave systematically reached into his powder and cap pouch, pulled out a linen-wrapped cartridge with gunpowder, tore the wrap with his front teeth, poured the powder down the front of the musket barrel, flipped the musket back to normal position, pulled the hammer back to a half-cocked position, reached again into the pouch for a tiny ignition cap that looked like a tiny top hat, placed the cap on the ignition nipple at the breach, and pulled the hammer to full-cock position…all with a twenty-second rapidity. The forty then pointed their minimuskets at a perfect forty-five-degree angle toward the blue skies over Lakeshore Park.”
Elmer screamed, “Ready. Aim. Fire!”
Folks nearby cringed and placed their hands over their mouths and ears in anticipation, and the roar of forty muskets boomed! The maneuver silenced the crowd for a moment like the effect of fireworks in the sky, but demands for more drills and movement were shouted as the US Zouave Cadets in quickstep continued to the lake. Within the thirty minutes that had passed, in their demonstrations on the way to the park, the company of forty somersaulted with bayonets in place, fired rounds into the air while lying on their backs, and yelled and screamed Zouave cheers…all in perfect and precise synchrony while the crowd enthusiastically applauded every move. By the time they reached Lakeshore Park, the Zouaves were firing their weapons at a full run and hastily scattering the crowd in front of them.
When the Zouaves reformed in the field, the thousands who had missed Elmer’s speech, scary bayonet movements, and firing exercises were treated to even more elaborate drill movements. They slowed to a stop and reformed into ten ranks of four squares again.
The noise settled down, and the crowd could not take their eyes off the handsome young officer who had a charisma that caused his men to move as one. And now they were about to see a parade drill executed with faultless precision, as if the muscle of each Zouave was controlled by one mass of men.
Elmer looked at the Light Guard band, who in their own snappy style had enhanced the spectacle of Zouaves before them. He nodded, and the band struck up Stephen Foster’s popular tune “Hard Times Come Again No More.” The music, with its folksy military beat, immediately elevated the crowd’s spirits even more. Elmer paused and then shouted a curt command that again directed the men and moment as if he were an orchestra conductor.
In perfect harmony the familiar squares beautifully morphed into double crosses and then evolved into perfect pyramid shapes. After delighting the lakeshore crowd with this successful movement, the pyramids then formed into scarlet and blue rotating circles that blended with the flags and patriotic color in the bright afternoon sky. The sunlight reflected off the polished bayonets and musket barrels like dazzling reflecting mirrors. The movements became even more complex as the music provided a pleasant backdrop to each perfect step. The ten circles touched each other in movement and began mixing the four-man groups back again into one. Squares and pyramids appeared again like a massive kaleidoscope on the green.
The crowd shouts and cheers carried up and down the swampy shores of Lake Michigan. Then the music stopped. The forty stood shoulder to shoulder again, five rows of eight, like in front of the Tremont House earlier that morning.
Elmer raised the hilt of his sword to his chin, and the Zouaves responded with a hearty shout.
“Hi…Hi…Hi!”
“One—Two—Three—Four—Five—Six—Seven!”
“Tig-a-r…Zouave!”
Elmer snapped his sword firmly into its black sheath, signaling the end of the military drill.
After a short silence, the citizens responded with increasing shouts of approval and glee. They were stunned by the quick conclusion of the drill, which had lasted just over two hours. Passersby who were close to Elmer vigorously shook his hand as others patted him on the back with gusto. The dashing bayonet exercises, the rapid firing of muskets on the double quickstep, and the final kaleidoscope parade executed with elegance and artful movement would always be remembered and celebrated. Newspapers and folks would report that on this day, the Zouaves had exceeded their expectations.
Elmer turned from the admirers and joined his company again. With a final command, the US Zouave Cadets of Chicago proudly snapped a final salute to the city that would now become their permanent home.
At the close of day, with the celebrations over, the cadets would proudly march back to the armory.
They would sleep on the floor again.
Chapter 10
Light Guard Hall
Armory of the US Zouave Cadets
Garrett Block
Southeast Corner of Randolph and State Streets
Chicago
July 5, 1859
Two Hours Past Midnight
The boys were on the floor comfortably rolled up in their scarlet blankets with their heads on their knapsacks. A few snores quietly echoed across the gymnasium. Elmer lay on his back in the center of his men with his eyes wide open. He could not sleep.
The celebration just hours ago seemed like a dream. And just twenty-four hours ago, he was sound asleep on the cold damp floor of the Tremont House basement. Thinking of his red diary, he thought it best now, while his comrades were sleeping, to jot down the events of the day. Gathering his scarlet blanket, he rolled it tightly with his diary under his right armpit and left the blanket on the floor. Rising slowly, he made his way to the Terpsichorean concert room to the little desk where he signed personal invitations to the visiting ladies and gentlemen who wished to see the cadets sing and play instruments.
The room was quiet, as expected, and he pulled the candle lamp by the entrance of the room and placed it on the writing desk. Placing the diary on the table, he flipped the pages near the middle of the book, held it with his left hand, grabbed a quill, and dipped it into the inkwell.
July 5th 1859
Victory, and thank God a triumph for me. This day has well nigh (sic) established my reputation…our Boys looked very handsomely in their new uniforms and equipment and marched like old veterans…We commenced our movements first in quick time, then on the run…From that time until the close of the drill, the crowd was absolutely enthusiastic applauding every new movement & cheering alternately the company and myself. An Army Officer…came to me on his own accord and said he wished to congratulate me, that he had been in the Army seven years, but he had never in the Army or out of it seen such drilling as our company performed that morning since he left the point.2
Elmer placed the quill down. Though he was just a few yards from his company, he was overcome with a sense of tearful joy. Resting his elbows on the table, he placed his face in his hands and began to sob a sigh of relief and happiness. He wanted to pray out loud, but he did not wish to wake his men, so he softly whispered in his hands, “I enter the second year of my manhood with my heart filled to overflowing with gratitude for the many and undeserved mercies for which I am indebted to God.” Wiping his tears, he stood up, blew out the lamp, grabbed his red diary, and returned to his blanket.
Wrapping his blanket around his shoulders, he rolled comfortably to his side and whispered, “God bless America. God Bless our cadets.”
Pecatonica River
Freeport
Autumn, 1859
The fall season always fell short in Freeport as if squeezed by summer and winter. Despite this, the colors along the Pecatonica were magnificent. The river always maintained its meandering pace, but now it was laced with an assortment of colorful growth. A burst of red maple and yellow birch leaves contrasted with the wall of oak trees still sporting green leaves, awaiting the winter snap to turn. Most birds were gone already. The water was too cold to walk in with bare feet. Catfish and river bass were still thick though. The river level would soon drop, but it would rise again in the spring.
“This is my favorite time of the year,” Allie exclaimed. “Have you seen anything as beautiful as this, Jenny?”
Jenny Putnam was the only daughter of Fire Marshal Putnam. A year younger than Allie, they became fast friends when they first met in town just a few weeks earlier. Jenny had never gone to the river without her father, and it was Allie who dared her to come with her to see the secret wigwam that Will, Aaron, and Allie visited frequently.
In contrast to Jenny, who was a member of a prominent Freeport family and whose father was both the fire marshal and an important local banker, Allie was poor and her family was small. She lived with her grandmother Lucy in a tiny one-room cabin in a beautiful clearing close to the river. Jenny was always modest about her wealthy family position. She was, in fact, sometimes embarrassed by it, especially when she was around her new friend, Allie, who walked the river in britches and thick leather boots. Yet neither difference in clothing nor standing in the community could keep either of these newfound friends apart now. They had become soul mates.
“Jenny, did ya hear what I just said?”
“I’m sorry, Allie, I couldn’t keep my eyes off the colors. I thought I was dreaming.”
“Well, I’ve been a dreamin’ myself about Will lately,” Allie responded with a crooked smile that could warm anyone’s heart. “I ’spect he and Aaron are at the wigwam now.”
“Who is Aaron?”
“I reckon that when you meet him, you’ll feel your heart throb a bit. Aaron is younger than Will, but they are like brothers for sure.” Pointing downriver, she continued, “Our secret place is just around that bend by the swirlin’ water. Perfect place for a muskrat trap! Someday, I will teach you how to catch ’em!”
Jenny blushed. “Well, I don’t think I could ever bring one home for supper!”
Allie smiled and winked. “Let’s get to the wigwam.”
“Yes, we best be moving on,” Jenny replied. “My mother wants me home by noon for supper. If she ever knew I was this far down the Pecatonica, I would be in trouble for sure.”
Aaron and Will were indeed in the wigwam waiting. Nothing had changed much since they first found the cave just over two years ago. Allie being closest to the Pecatonica visited the wigwam almost every day. She always made sure the tomahawk and beaded bag were in the original place by the south wall. The rock that angled the mirror causing the flicker flash was placed to the side as well. The curved mirror was secured next to it. By doing this, they kept the secret place hidden from any passersby.
As Allie and Jenny rounded the bend, Jenny looked curiously to the bushes onshore.
“Allie, are you sure the place is near here? I can’t be late for supper!”
“Stop in your tracks, and cover your eyes right now, Jenny!”
Jenny responded.
“Now turn to the right and open your eyes!”
As she dropped her delicate hands to her side and opened her eyes, she gasped. Directly, not two feet away, stood the boys.
“My goodness. Where did they come from?”
Both boys grinned. In unison they reached behind them to the holly branches that secluded the wigwam and pulled them quickly back, revealing the entrance.
“Come in, friends,” replied Will, smiling.
Aaron entered first, followed by Allie and Jenny.
The sun angled directly from the top as it did before. The ray cast a bright late-morning glow through the small particles of dust, revealing a fine spread of pine needles, which had been collected by the friends over the past two years. The matting was as thick as a goose-down pillow.
Jenny turned quickly to the boys as if having an epiphany. “I remember you two from the Lincoln-Douglas debate last year, during that very hot summer day!”
“Sure enough, Jenny. Your father introduced us to you that day,” replied Will.
Captivated by Jenny’s beauty, Aaron remained quiet and fidgeted a little.
“You were the boys who helped put out the Freeport fire and saved the little colt!” she said excitedly. “The whole town is so grateful to you!”
“Well, we had a lot of help from your father and the bucket brigade. All the boys had a good hand in it,” replied Will, smiling again.
“Well, Aaron! Why do you jist sit there like a church mouse!” exclaimed Allie. “Open those smackers of yours and treat Jenny like a lady!”
Aaron blushed and fidgeted more. He quickly turned and nodded to Jenny who, in return, bowed back gracefully and smiled in an effort to suspend the awkward silence. Aaron diverted a question back to Allie in an effort to save himself from the embarrassing moment.
“Do you bring more Indian stories from Grandma Lucy?” he asked.
His green eyes reflected in the beam of light, showing his keen interest. His curly black hair blended like coal into the dark shadow behind him. Jenny felt an instant attraction to him and looked at him when he finished the question. She held his gaze for a moment…and then her eyes quickly darted away.
“Well,” Allie replied with a grin, “would you like to hear about Grandma Lucy’s first Injun fight?”
“Indian fight?” Will replied with two raised eyebrows.
“I guess you could say so. She told me that years ago, right after the Black Hawk War, a treaty was signed, and the Winnebago Injuns were sent to the other side of the Mississippi. Our Injuns were mainly farmers, like Freeport folk. They were friendly like us, too. Some of them stuck around though ’cause it’s hard to leave your homeplace, ya know.”
Allie continued. “Grandma Lucy was married to a big man about the size of Abe Lincoln. She is only about five feet tall, though, so he towered way above her. We reckon he was the tallest man in these parts. His name was William Wadham. Well, because Lucy was a kind woman, she always kept a pot of cornmeal mush on the fire hearth for anyone who was comin’ by her place. No one would feel the starvin’ pangs near her cabin. She fed both Injuns and white folk. One day, seven feathered-up braves, don’t know if they were Winnebagos or not, stumbled by the cabin. They was drunk, and they knew about the corn mush. Lucy, thinking they were up to no good, shoved her three little ones under the straw bed. William met the Injun strangers at the door but was grabbed by the throat by the biggest of the seven. Grandma Lucy was as quick as a bear cat! She grabbed her rollin’ pin from the breadboard and chased after the big one. She beat him about the knees ’til he buckled to the floor. He got up and hobbled out the cabin door. All of them scattered through the woods. Believe they kept dodgin’ trees ’til they got back to their village!”
“She scared off seven Indians with a rolling pin?” Aaron asked curiously. His voice cracked from disbelief.
“Sure as we’re sittin’ here,” replied Allie. “And that’s not the end of it. Big William grabbed his rifle from the mantel to see if it was loaded with powder and ball. It was. They waited all night, scared when the next fight would be. They put water buckets around in case the Injuns tried to set the cabin on fire.”
Will, Jenny, and Aaron blurted out together, “What happened next!”
Allie picked up the medicine bag that was snuggled against the wall. “The next mornin’, Lucy peeked out the gunport in the front door and saw the Injuns lined up on the edge of the woods. The big Injun had a beaded bag just like this one. He walked slowly to the front door of the cabin
. His moccasins made no noise. When he got right close, he began talkin’ in chopped English. ‘Little white fightin’ squaw, no shoot me. We sorry. We make no fight. Medicine bag for little white fightin’ squaw.’ And then the Injuns left and never came back.”
There was complete silence in the wigwam. Allie put the bag back on the wall.
“Do you think this is the same bag that he gave to Grandma Lucy?” asked Jenny.
“No. Grandma Lucy still has hers. It does look like this. I reckon this was put here for a good reason,” Allie replied confidently. She looked at Will and smiled again.
“Why do you think the bag and tomahawk are here?” Will asked.
“Well, Grandma Lucy has ideas about Injuns in these parts. I ’spect she’s right.”
Will continued. “What can you tell us, Allie? Does she know about this place?”
“No, she don’t, and never will. I did ask her about wigwam stuff after I first saw this place.”
Jenny, Will, and Aaron again jumped in together, “What did you ask her?”
“I didn’t much want her to know about this place, so I gave her bits and pieces, hopin’ she could put it together again. You know like piecin’ a broken china plate back together.”
The friends leaned in closer.
“Did you ever rightly wonder about these holly bushes and that big oak that covers this place?”
“Never much thought about it,” replied Will, “but it sure hides this place nicely year round.”