by L. E. Waters
That night, after a supper of fried onions, potatoes and fresh beef—which I draw a pretty decent cut in comparison to some of the fattier cuts of those around me—the men gather around the campfire in good spirits near our tent. Some start reciting bits from letters sent from home, as the clouds of smoke puff from their pipes and, every once in a while, they make some crass joke about someone’s girlfriend or sister. I make sure to laugh along no matter how vulgar. We each clean our plates in our own ways, Elijah pours a little coffee over his after licking his plate clean, I scrape mine off with a knife, Timmie is lucky enough to have a dishtowel to clean his off, and Victor rubs his vigorously in the dirt.
They pass a jug around that someone managed to smuggle in and, when it reaches me, I hesitantly take a swig and hold back all my impulses to spew it out all around me. I hold it in my mouth for a long moment and make the terrible decision to swallow it, which worries me greatly as it burns all the way down. Something about the homegrown concoction turns my stomach immediately—sensations of headaches, fevers, hospital beds, and the smell of the gutter come nauseatingly over me. The next time it reaches me in the circle, I decide to decline. Everyone else seems to relish every swig and I hate the way Elijah pretends to enjoy it.
I’m surprised to find out that, besides various skirmishes, the veteran soldiers we’ve joined had only been in their first battle two weeks before at Chancellorsville. I can’t believe one battle has changed these men so much. There are a few comments about the battle, but the fact that it wasn’t talked about more worried me.
That night I study new faces across the campfire, trying not to stare. One man stands out to me because he has such different eyes. I don’t think I have ever seen such a color in my life. They can only best be described as indigo and, only to make them more striking, they’re framed with the thickest, darkest eyelashes and eyebrows. He has a thick black beard growing with an adjoining mustache. As beautiful as he is, a wildness seems to burn beneath the surface.
I’m wondering if he had this look before he fought, or did he recently acquire it in Chancellorsville? His name is Jessie and if he starts a song, everyone sings it with him. If he begins a jig, everyone gets up to spin around with him. All the others follow his lead and tell jokes for him to laugh at.
One of the soldiers next to me explains, “Our commander Lieutenant-Colonel Cook was wounded when we first began to fall back from the enemy at Chancellorsville. Colonel Cook was immediately taken prisoner by the Butternuts, but Jessie had us rally and led the charge, and goddammit, we got him back again, taking his captors prisoners!”
I turn to see Elijah ogling Jessie as if he has just found his long-lost big brother. A flash of jealousy rings through me. Next to Jessie sits another interesting fellow. He’s the complete opposite. Sitting there mellow, watching and smiling instead of hooting like the others are. They call him James. It’s about hour before he even looks up to where I sit. He has smiled at something someone says next to me and his eyes squint up tight with the most perfect full smile I’ve seen in months. Even though his eyes are mostly closed in laughter, I can see how they sparkle so brilliantly. It makes me want to hurry time so the sun will rise up for me to see their true color. I can only guess at what color they could be. He has wavy dark-brown hair, and long stubble on his jawline. I realize he might not be as old as the others, probably just a little older than Elijah’s real age. I can tell that although Jessie’s the one everyone wants to be, James is the one they all listened to.
Jessie calls over a fiddler from his tent and gets him to play a rowdy Irish song about Carlow I’ve never heard before. Jessie takes the limelight while we all clap and he starts singing and jigging without missing a step, kicking both feet together in the air with ease and spinning around in one jump. Most of the soldiers go crazy and start dancing their own jigs on top of the logs they’re sitting on for the night. James looks at me again and I realize I’ve been smiling too big at Jessie’s display and wonder if I have giving some kind of feminine glimmer away.
Jessie is such a life-force; he draws you in and makes you want to drink what he’s drinking. I go to bed that night still singing the Carlow chorus, thinking that the next few months are going to be the most exciting of my life. As much as I want to be a boy to be a part of Jessie’s world, James has a smile that makes me want to be Josephine again.
Chapter 4
A punch to the jaw was not the only thing I caught in the Sibley tent. Elijah and I start itching something terrible a few days after arriving in camp and, upon closer inspection, find dozens of nits to be the culprit. Boiling is the only way to get rid of the horrid creatures, besides burning everything and buying everything new from the quartermaster, and, judging by how many men came out to use the mess kettles, I’d say it’s an epidemic. Even after repeated saltwater boilings, Elijah and I have to take at least an hour a day combing through our hair and searching every seam and pocket for the other unrelenting grey-backs.
Elijah and I perform these shameful searches in the privacy of our tent, while you can catch others at any time of the day sneaking off to the shade of a tree or behind a rock to do their ‘knitting’ work. Performing these ‘skirmishes’ changes from a shameful act to a crucial aspect of good hygiene. It’s the soldiers who give up the war and accept the infestation that are soon shunned. Victor scratches far too much and ‘knits’ far too little for my taste, and even Elijah shares a log with me more these days in hopes of distancing himself from Victor’s louse army.
The first time the mules bring in the wagons full of packages from loved ones at home, you’d think Lincoln himself strolled into our camp by the numbers of those gathered, drooling expectantly for their name to be called. Even though Elijah and I know there will be none for us, since we didn’t send anyone our whereabouts, we want to see who is lucky enough to receive them. Hopefully, someone will allow us to watch them open one so we can enjoy it vicariously.
We hoot and holler whenever anyone we know puts their hands up for that blessed shoebox filled with fragments of the civilization we left behind. Timmie, James and Jessie all hug their boxes tight and I nudge Elijah for us to follow them. Elijah gives Victor a jab but he says, “Naw, mine’s gotta be on there. I sent my mother my list weeks ago.”
I’m glad to leave him there and I pull Elijah with me to the campfire circle where Timmie, James and Jessie open their packages.
“Ain’t hard to open at all with how the folks at regimental headquarters have ripped it open ‘inspecting’ it,” Jessie mutters.
Timmie pulls out his first treasure, a small cake, and my mouth doesn’t close until he lays out the rest of his box: onions, potatoes, tea, smoked ham, preserves, a woolen shirt and some stockings.
Jessie pulls out a shining pair of boots and taps the heels to shake out all the peanuts his Ma stuffed inside, making use of every space. He peers inside the boot with one eye shut. “Looks like she didn’t slip in any bark juice like I’d asked.”
James holds up a small hatchet, which we all can’t wait to get a chance to use since we’re always snapping saplings with our feet. He then pulls out some sugar, condensed milk, apples, butter, socks, and then whistles when he unwraps a bar of chocolate. The sun shines into his eyes and now the mystery is solved: they’re a clear shade of blue-grey.
I start wondering if maybe I couldn’t just write to anyone I can think of back in Cortland, hoping maybe they’d take pity on Elijah and send him something to share with me.
James breaks off squares and hands one to each of us. Jessie grabs his up right away but I say, “No, that’s for you.”
“My ma wouldn’t have me hoarding everything for myself. Take it.”
Jessie whistles as I sink my teeth into the smooth, chocolate-ly heaven and he pulls out a good sized loaf of fresh bread; well, as fresh as it can be with the post. Even though I do think that’s quite a prize, it’s what he pulls out from inside the bread that makes his indigo eyes shine. H
e holds up the amber bottle. “I can’t believe it. She smuggled it in!”
Only Jessie’s Ma could be clever enough to get a bottle past the inspectors. Jessie twists off the top and takes a chug of the whiskey he’s longed for. He hands it to James, “Don’t say I never share.”
James takes a swig and hands it back. I’m glad to let the chocolate taste linger in my mouth for as long as I can. Victor breezes up with three small packages in his clutches.
Elijah gasps. “You got three?”
Victor hands one each to Elijah and me then sits down with the remaining one. “My ma’s didn’t come yet. These are the boxes sent out for soldiers who didn’t receive a package from home.”
I stare down at the calligraphy on the package, which someone took great care to perfect. It’s addressed to, “A Brave Soldier.”
Victor grabs the box from me and laughs, “Oh, looks like that one was for me.”
He stuffs the other one, which just has our regiment’s name on it, into my hands. Everyone else chuckles at Victor’s joke, but I bet that the person who took greater care most likely sent better things. I open mine up anyway and I’m content to see a few potatoes, a small cake, a bar of soap, a few needles, a spool of thread, and a pair of the dingiest colored socks you could find.
Victor pulls out smoked turkey, dried fruits, and a jar of preserves. He checks around to be sure he hasn’t missed anything. “Dang it, no socks.”
Serves him right for switching. I slip off my sagging, poor excuse for socks and, after putting on the new ones, wiggle my toes in front of Victor, loving how tight the new pair feels.
Elijah also gets a pair of socks, although a nicer shade of charcoal, as well as some pickles, onions, apples and buttons. Elijah takes a crisp bite of a Macintosh and I take a bite of my cake—although I wish they hadn’t packed the soap directly underneath the cake since it gives it the slightest aftertaste of lye. I pull out a small note from the kind-hearted individual that took the time to send this out. I read out loud the prayer:
“Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the LORD thy God, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee. Deuteronomy 31:6”
“Well, someone’s forsaken my socks.” Victor stuffs some turkey in his mouth and mumbles, “I sure hope we stay a few more days so I can get my package.”
“I’ve heard rumors of a march any day.” James pulls a letter out and smiles at something he reads.
Jessie says, “Well, are you just going to smile like a fool or are you going to read it to us all ready?”
“My sweet James—”
“Ooh, it’s from his sweetheart!” Jessie coos.
“No, my mother.”
I wonder if that means other letters have in fact come from a sweetheart.
He continues,
“The whole family has contributed to this box for you. Cousin Mary knitted the socks for you and Uncle John bought the hatchet as soon as he heard the horrible time you had snapping saplings with your bare hands to fix your tent. I gathered up the sugar, milk, apples and butter, but Sarah bought the chocolate with all her savings and made sure to get it to you. She is such a thoughtful girl, awfully pretty too, but I don’t need to tell you that—”
Sarah must be the sweetheart, and to think I ate her chocolate.
“Not an hour goes by that we don’t think of you and we’re so proud that you are so courageous and strong. Every time I cry when I think of the harm you are in, I try to take solace in that you are such a smart boy. I can’t wait for the wonderful day that I get to see your shining smile again. Please take care of yourself and stay safe.
All our love,
Mother.”
How I wished to have a letter like that from home. What would Ma think of me now? I hope she would be proud of everything I’ve accomplished to stay with Elijah. Pa certainly would be surprised.
Elijah reads his,
“Keep faith and health, good soldier.”
We look to Jessie to read his, but he shrugs. “No note, but she didn’t forget the whiskey.” He shakes the decreasing fluid in the small bottle.
Victor hands over his letter for Elijah to read. Elijah clears his throat.
“Dear brave soldier,
I hope this package finds you well. My name is Emily and I live in Hartford, Connecticut. I’ve just turned sixteen. Write to me, to tell me how you liked the items I sent and let me know if you are in need of anything. Keep your spirits up, knowing that young girls like me pray each night for a quick end to this war and that you will come home safe where we will meet you with parades and cheers!
Fondly yours,
Emily.”
Victor chews a hunk of dried apple. “Is there a picture in there?”
“Why do you think she’d send you a picture?” I can’t help myself.
“Well, I’m not writing her back when I don’t know what she looks like.”
Elijah laughs, but I imagine what Emily would think of her ‘brave’ fish-faced soldier who hasn’t lifted a bar of soap in weeks.
Victor swallows. “Fine. Timmie, give Elijah a piece of your Christian paper. I’m going see if ol’ Emily owns some knitting needles. Who sends off a package without a pair of socks?”
I don’t want to sit around to hear the letter he dictates to poor Emily, so I carry my box back to the safety of my tent. I remove my housewife to store the extra needles and thread for the endless mending we have to do to keep our clothes together. I roll it back up and stash what’s left of my cake and potatoes away for supper later. I place the soap under my blanket in hopes it will improve the rank smell of the bed roll. I lie down for a much needed nap and hear Elijah sneak in beside me.
“Elijah ‘n Joe!” Victor screams outside of our tent. “You coming with us to the cathouse?”
My blood thickens. I’ve heard many of the veteran soldiers discussing a brothel they always visit while waiting on the Potomac. Referring to particular girls as favorites and talking about how they have to go back again soon. I worried what I would say to get out of it when they all went. Victor’s inside our tent before I can decide what to say.
“So you in?”
He looks at Elijah only because I think he senses my disdain for him.
Elijah says, “I would go, but I can’t leave Joe behind.”
Victor barely glances at me. “Well, hell, Joe can come too.”
“He’s only fourteen.” Elijah tells everyone I’m fourteen but he continues to tell everyone that he’s eighteen.
“That’s nothing to be nervous about. Even little Timmie’s coming.”
Timmie’s only thirteen. I try to think of something to get out of it but can’t think of anything that will work.
Elijah gives me a look, like he doesn’t know what to do, then says, “Sure. We’re in. When you leaving?”
“We all got leave for the day so we thought it was as good as time as any to visit the ladies,” Victor says, barely controlling his excitement.
Jessie and a gang of stragglers breeze by our tents, only turning to look when Victor yells at them to wait up. Jessie pretends not to even hear and keeps going, with Victor running behind.
Victor screams back, “You better hurry!”
Elijah grabs his jacket and I run out with him, still trying to think how I’m going to get out of this one. It’s a long, hot walk. We’ve been told it isn’t usually this hot in June, but we’ve been having a heat wave. We cross the train tracks to a whole row of tired shacks. Each one of them has at least two, sometimes three, women calling to every soldier walking by. It seems that because of the heat, every regiment is given the day off and this is the place everyone heads. I notice that James joins ranks somewhere along the way, which makes me even more nervous.
Victor leaps on Timmie’s shoulders. “Timmie, ol’ pal, I’m hoping you can do me a favor. You see I’m expecting some money in that care package that�
�s due any day, so I’m counting on you to loan me a dollar or two for the girls.”
Timmie ventures into his bread bag, but James halts his arm. “Victor’s been spending all his greenbacks on sulter’s pies. You might never see that money again.”
“I’m good for it as soon as my package comes.” Victor holds his hand out as we walk.
Timmie smiles and puts two dollars in Victor’s dirty hand.
Victor clicks his heels in the air with a sharp whistle. “Now time for some fun!”
We pass one woman who reaches out to James, brushing her claw-like hand up his arm, saying, “Hey, blue eyes, why don’t you come have a little visit with Happy Jackie and see why I’m so happy.” She jiggles her heavy bosom out the revealing dip of her bodice.
I want to slap her hand away but he just keeps walking, while the boys turn around, hooting. Jessie’s the one leading the way and, once he finds what he’s looking for, he points it out to the boys trailing distractedly behind him. This must be the place they always talked about. All of the women seem to glow as soon as they set their worn eyes on Jessie.
Most of the women who call to men outside look aged and misused. They wear sheer nightgowns instead of dresses. Yet this must be a nicer establishment because the girls are slightly prettier, although they wear far too much makeup and jewelry. They overcompensate for stale smells with the heavy masking of strong perfume in the air. I start choking and go to sit by the slightly-opened window. Suddenly, all of the excitement the boys had on the journey over, with all the laughing and jumping as they’d walked, seems to vanish. Now, all but Jessie and James look scared, like they want to run back out as fast I wish I could.
Elijah’s standing there, attempting to act older, but I recognize his nervousness by the way he holds his head. When he’s really nervous he can’t make direct eye contact. He keeps averting his eyes by making stiff movements with his head. I don’t like thinking of what Elijah is about to do. He never would’ve done this if we’d still been living in Cortland, and I can’t help feeling like we’re going down a road Ma and Pa would have never liked to see us walk. Jessie quickly picks a girl who is clearly the most attractive of the bunch and the least used looking. Once Jessie disappears down the hall with her, it’s clear that James is the favorite now. My heart falls a little when he chooses a girl that doesn’t look anything like me. Well, not like me when I looked like me. She has an ample chest spilling out of her dingy corset and that matches her rotund bottom. I have to stop watching them as they walk down the short hallway to a back room.