Whippoorwill

by R. L. Bartram

  As Ceci reached for the envelope, he placed his hand over it. “Once you have read the contents of this envelope,” he warned. “You will not be permitted to change your mind. You will be committed for the duration of the war. Once you have completed your training, you will return home. However, you will be expected to accept any assignment offered you thereafter. Which means, you may not see your home again, until the end of the war. That is, if you survive. Any change of heart. A failure in any one of these areas, will make you a liability to my operation.”

  “You mean, you’d have to have me killed?” Ceci interpreted.

  He lifted his hand off the envelope. “The choice is still yours,” he replied.

  Ceci had heard all she wanted to hear. Briefly, she recalled Hecubah’s warning, about the ugly road she was on, but, for now, it was the only road she could see. It was the only road she wanted to see. She leaned forward and picked up the envelope.

  ***

  “I thought they didn’t allow women in them places,” Hecubah stared in alarm.

  “They do now,” Ceci informed her. “Since Baton Rouge fell, they’re overwhelmed with casualties.”

  “Nursing in a field hospital in Opelousas,” Hecubah was far from happy. “Honey, that’s almost a hundred miles away. You ain’t never bin anywhere on your own before.”

  “I already told you,” Ceci repeated her cover story. “Other women will be joining the train along the way. I won’t be alone for long.”

  Hecubah wrung her hands, frowning. “There’s battles going on, all over the South. It ain’t a good time to travel. I don’t like it. Where’d you hear about this?”

  “I told you,” Ceci continued to coerce. “There was a notice in the newspaper, calling for volunteers.”

  “Honey, do you realise what kind of things you’re gonna see when you get there?” Hecubah warned.

  “I know it won’t be pretty,” Ceci agreed. “But I’ll manage. Besides, you said it yourself,” She reminded her. “I can’t sit around the house moping forever. You can’t coddle me for the rest of my life. I got to stand on my own two feet one day. This way, I’ll be helping others at the same time.”

  “It might be good for you, at that,” Hecubah conceded grudgingly. “But I’m coming with you.”

  “No,” Ceci was adamant. She’d expected Hecubah to say something like that, and she was ready. “If you come. I won’t be standing on my own two feet, will I? Besides, I need you here, to look after the house. You’re the only one I trust to do it. It’s only for three months. Please, I have to do this.”

  “If anything happens to you, I’ll never forgive myself,” Hecubah sighed heavily.

  Ceci took her hands in hers. “You’d have nothing to blame yourself for,” she reassured her. “I’m a grown woman, free to make my own choices. I’m not asking for your permission to go. I’m asking for your blessing on my endeavour.”

  “I know,” Hecubah sighed again. “I can’t stop you, if your minds made up, but I ain’t gonna get a wink of sleep until you come back.”

  ***

  “Is this all you’re taking?” Hecubah gestured at the contents of the carpet bag. “No change of clothes, no extra linen. You ain’t gonna last a day on that.”

  “Everything I need will be provided, once I reach Opelousas,” Ceci told her. “You can imagine the conditions I’ll be working in. If I took my own clothes, they’d be ruined in no time.”

  “Blood and disease,” Hecubah shook her head. “The more I hear about this, the less I like it. Tell me again why I can’t write to you?”

  “It’s a field hospital,” Ceci pointed out. “They don’t exactly have addresses. Besides, I’ll be moving around. I’ve already promised, I’ll write to you every week, just to let you know I’m safe.”

  “Make sure you do,” Hecubah insisted. “Or Opelousas is gonna have a war on its hands. Meanwhile, take this with you.” She offered Ceci a small vile. It looked like a scent bottle.

  “What’s this?” Ceci made to open it.

  “Good Lord, don’t pull the cork out, “Hecubah cried. “That’s skunk oil. The kind the critter squirts when it’s riled.”

  “Skunk oil?” Ceci stared incredulously. “Now, why would I want that?”

  “Some man tries to force his attention on you. You throw it in his face,” Hecubah instructed. “It’ll blind him.”

  “I swear, you’re more nervous than I am,” Ceci laughed. “I’m sure there’ll be plenty of chivalrous men on the train, who’ll be happy to see I travel safely. Now will you quit worrying.”

  “I ain’t never gonna quit worrying, as far as you is concerned,” she glowered. “You put that hundred dollars emergency money in the pocket I sewed in your drawers?”

  Ceci rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

  “Show me.”

  Ceci raised her skirt. “Happy now?”

  “I ain’t gonna be happy till you get back.” She grabbed Ceci, hugging her until she gasped. “I’m worried outa my mind,” she confided. “But I’m proud to. I’m so proud you found this strength.”

  Lying this way to Hecubah was the hardest thing Ceci had ever had to do in her life. It was a necessary evil, but that didn’t make it any easier. She knew the day would come, after she took her first assignment, when Hecubah would discover her deceit. Then there’d be hell to pay. For now, whenever she felt a twinge of conscience, or a pang of remorse, she thought of her dead father and sister, then the dark creature within her would rise up and smother it.

  ***

  “You got your ticket?” Hecubah fussed.

  “Here,” Ceci showed her.

  “And your smelling salts?”

  “In my bag.”

  “What about that hundred dollars?”

  “I ain’t pulling up my skirt, right here, in front of the train,” Ceci objected.

  “I guess you is ready then,” Hecubah glanced up and down the busy platform. “You can still change your mind, you know,” she suggested hopefully.

  “I ain’t going to change my mind. Stop worrying. I’ll be fine,” she assured her. “Now, I have to go. The train’s leaving any minute.”

  Hecubah caught Ceci’s face in her hands and kissed her on the lips. “You be careful, child,” she began to cry. “You hear me? You keep yourself safe.”

  “I will,” Ceci nodded. She picked up her bag and boarded the train. Moments later, it began to move.

  “Don’t forget to write,” Hecubah shouted up at the open window of Ceci’s car. She kept pace with the train, for as long as she could, waving all the time.

  Ceci waved back, as Hecubah dwindled into the distance. Now she was truly alone, for the first time in her life. She felt a stab of terror surge through her, a brief moment of doubt, but it was quickly replaced by a strengthening resolve to avenge her family.

  Ceci travelled twenty minutes down the line, got off at the next station and boarded the train for Jenson’s Warf. Now, even Hecubah didn’t know where she was. It was a long, slow journey. At every station, every depot, she had to wait for freight trains to pass, loaded with war supplies and munitions. Everywhere she looked, thousands of Confederate troops waited to embark. Sometimes she saw men returning from battle. The wounded and the dead, shipped back in the same cars. It was a harrowing sight. One which the printed newspaper accounts, no matter how lurid, had not prepared her for. It was her first glimpse of what war was really like. So much had changed so quickly. She’d met Trent. Fallen madly in love with him. All she’d wanted was to be married and spend the rest of her life with him. Now, there was only war and confusion, death and tears.

  Ceci checked her watch as the train pulled into Jenson’s Warf. It was three thirty in the afternoon. She alighted from the car, pausing only to ask the conductor for directions. Then she hurried down the street, t
hrough the town, and onto the dock, just in time to see the launch arrive.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Ceci stepped into the launch. Three young women were already on board. They regarded each other with obvious curiosity. Doucet had told her not to speak to anyone. Clearly, he had said the same to them. They all looked, but no one spoke.

  The launch continued up-river, leaving a long trail of acrid black smoke drifting out across the bayou. Ceci attempted to memorise the route, but there were so many tributaries, twists and turns, that she very soon realised she would never be able to navigate her way back without a map. Doucet had chosen his position well.

  After an hour, they arrived at a small island nestled among a vast tract of cypress trees, shielding it from prying eyes. Doucet was waiting on the jetty.

  Once they had alighted, he motioned them to follow him. Silently, he led them to a small cabin in a clearing in the woods, ushered them inside and closed the door.

  “You will never tell anyone your real names,” he addressed them, without the curtesy of a greeting. “Or disclose where you come from. From now on, you will be known only by your operating name.” He produced a small wooden box. “In here are the names of four common native birds. You will all choose at random and thereafter, be known by that name.”

  He moved among them, offering the box to each one in turn. “You will familiarise yourself with your bird,” he told them. “Know it’s habits and its habitat. You will be taught to mimic its song. This will be your call sign. It will identify you to our agents, no matter what alias you are travelling under.”

  A tall, athletic looking, brunette chose first. Doucet took the folded slip of paper from her, and opened it. “Oriole,” he announced, crushing the slip in his fist.

  A petite redhead, one mass of freckles, chose next. “Bunting,” Doucet moved on.

  The third young woman took a slip of paper. She was clearly a mountain girl. She wore her blonde hair in long braids underneath a frayed straw hat. Everything she wore had seen better days. “Cardinal.”

  Doucet turned to Ceci, offering her the last slip. She dipped her fingers into the box. It felt as if she were passing through a door, into another world. Doucet took the paper from her, and read it aloud. “Whippoorwill.”

  He set the empty box aside. “You may ask questions,” he invited.

  “Why are there so few of us?” Bunting was first to speak.

  “Because you are the first,” Doucet replied simply. “If this enterprise succeeds, more will be recruited. No page of history will ever record your existence,” he addressed them all. “From now on, you will be completely anonymous. You will never disclose to anyone what you are about to do here. The Union has its spies, as do we. The slightest breach of security, would have the direst consequences. Your friends and families believe that you have volunteered as nurses in Opelousas, and that is all they will ever know. You will be permitted to write one letter a week, to maintain the illusion. Keep it short, keep it simple.”

  The mountain girl, Cardinal, raised a tentative hand. “Why weren’t we allowed to bring a change of clothes?”

  Doucet pointed to a heap of rough garments, shirts, trousers and leather sandals, piled on top of a small table in the corner of the cabin. “These are what you will train in, live in and sleep in,” he explained. “The clothes you are wearing now, are the ones you will return home in.”

  “What happens after that?” Ceci asked.

  “You will resume a normal life,” Doucet replied. “Until a suitable assignment is found. Then you’ll be contacted again.”

  “Where do we wash and sleep?” Oriole asked, gesturing at the spartan interior of the cabin.

  “Conditions here reflect those you can expect to find in the field,” Doucet informed them. “You will all live in this shack. If you want to wash, the bayou’s that way,” he pointed. “If you need to do anything else, the woods are out there. You will all be issued with one blanket,” he continued briskly. “If you don’t want to sleep on the floor, you must make your own bed out of moss and bracken. You will be provided with minimum rations. If you want more, you’ll have to hunt for it.”

  “Why do we have to endure these conditions, when our purpose is to gather and pass on information?” Ceci interrupted, voicing a question that had doubtless crossed all their minds.

  “That’s only part of it,” Doucet replied, abandoning his martial attitude for a moment. “I told you all at the beginning that you would be trained to penetrate deep behind enemy lines, for any purpose. That may include sabotage, assassination, and anything else that’s deemed necessary to win this war.” He paused, allowing them time to digest the information. “You may have to cross open country in hostile territory,” he continued. “You will need to know, how to live off the land, defend and disguise yourselves, whilst enduring extreme privation. You’ll require all these skills, and more, if you intend to survive.”

  Ceci began to realise, as no doubt the others had, that there was a lot more to this than she’d first thought.

  Noticing their change of attitude, Doucet distanced himself from the group. “You must understand,” he advised them, with some gravity. “This was never about merely gathering information. It’s about winning a war, by all available means. Because of who you are, and what you do, the enemy will show you no mercy. You must be tough, resourceful and alert if you are to stand any chance at all. That is what you will become in the next three months.”

  “All that, in three months?” Cardinal remarked doubtfully.

  “The time allotted, is sufficient,” he responded brusquely. “It’s up to you how quickly and how well you learn. The more you know, the better your chances of survival. However,” he continued darkly, “anyone who does not achieve the required standard by the end of the training period will not be sent on active service.”

  “What happens to them?” Ceci enquired nervously.

  “Your only concern for now, is what lays ahead of you,” he evaded the question.

  “When do we begin?” Cardinal asked.

  “Now,” Doucet answered succinctly. “Each of you take a set of clothes and come with me.”

  They followed him for about half a mile until he stopped in a grove where some burlap sacks were hanging from the branch of a tree. He pulled them down and threw them on the ground. “Pick up the sack with your name on it,” he ordered. “Remove the clothes you have on and put them inside. Then put on the clothes you brought from the cabin.”

  As one, they hesitated, glancing suspiciously at him.

  “You’re asking us to take off our clothes, in front of you?” Bunting frowned.

  The tone of Doucet’s voice never varied. “You may have to adopt a disguise at a moment’s notice, anywhere, anytime. Modesty is a luxury you cannot afford. If you can’t do this, you can’t continue here.”

  One by one, they began to undress, until the entire group huddled together, naked, their arms wrapped about them, in a vain attempt to preserve what little was left of their dignity.

  “Put your clothes in the sacks,” Doucet reminded them. “And put on the things you brought from the cabin.” When they’d done that, he produced two pairs of shears. “Now, cut your hair.”

  A howl of dismay went up from the group. Doucet remained unmoved. “This country is swarming with troops,” he informed them. “In order to reach your target, it may be necessary to disguise yourself as one of them. No woman can successfully pass as a man wearing girl’s hair. I’m not asking you to shave your heads, just cut it shorter. When you return home, tell your people that is was necessary, to prevent lice and disease,” with that, he made to leave.

  “Where are you going?” Ceci asked.

  “My headquarters are a mile yonder,” he replied. “You have the rest of the day to gather bedding, firewood, a
nd acclimatise yourself to the area. Today’s rations have been left at the shack. Tomorrow, at first light, we begin in earnest.”

  Ceci stared after the receding figure, as her golden curls began to shower down around her. She began to wonder if she’d done the right thing in coming here, but like it or not, there was no going back now.

  “It’s such a pity,” Oriole sighed, as she snipped at Ceci’s tresses. “You have such lovely hair. I’ll try and leave as much as I can. Make sure you do the same for me.”

  ***

  “Any man would have been aroused, by the sight of us standing there naked,” Bunting remarked, as they piled heaps of moss and bracken onto the cabin floor. “Ol’ Doucet wasn’t excited at all. That ain’t natural. He must be made of stone.”

  “He’s a seasoned professional,” Ceci told her. “A cold, hardened, professional, but he’ll train us well.”

  “He better had,” Oriole joined in. “I didn’t come here, just to play games.”

  “Why did you come?” Bunting asked, despite Doucet’s rule of silence.

  Oriole’s face clouded. “I had a husband and a baby once,” she growled. “The Yanks killed them both. Now I’m going to kill some of them. What about you?”

  “Union deserters robbed my house,” Bunting replied. “Burned it down, raped me and my two sisters. Only two of us got out alive. What’s your story, Cardinal?”

  The mountain girl shrugged. “My daddy died years ago. Lost my three brothers at Georgia Landing, all in the same day. When Ma found out, she hung herself in the barn. Now, there’s only me and Grandma left.”

  They all looked at Ceci. “My daddy, my sister and her baby. When New Orleans surrendered,” she responded, realising, for the first time, that she wasn’t alone in her grief, or her desire for vengeance. Another thought occurred to her. Doucet had only chosen women who’d had family killed in the war. She wondered if he thought that would make them more dedicated, or if he hoped they were just too bitter to consider the consequences of what they’d embarked upon.