~*~
Leroy knew the mission was a dangerous one. The shipment was coming by wagon trains, pulled by soldiers across the Red. They’d have to ferry them over, on homemade rigs. He had his men lay low after engaging in target practice every day for a week.
His men were to delay any delivery and stop them if possible. If the Union army got control of any part of Texas they would succeed in the war. He’d do anything to stop Union occupation in Texas.
The Union Army pillaged half the state of Arkansas, freeing up the slaves, taking supplies, burning and blowing up the leavings. One of his men had fought in several skirmishes in northern Arkansas and was lucky to have escaped alive to tell the story. The Kansas-Arkansas border was a dangerous place and any man escaping was lucky.
Leroy stared out onto the cotton fields with sadness in his heart. He shook his head wondering why men had to fight about such things. The killings were ugly and sometimes meaningless. Fathers fought against sons, brothers against each other. When it was over hundreds lay dead. However, war had a way of bringing out the ugliness of man. The death he’d seen was enough to make some men run. For miles, side by side, they lay upon the land drenched with blood. Burying was sometimes nothing but one big hole that they put the bodies in. If there was time for burying.
Leroy sat waiting for the inevitable, staring at his men. Some had been in previous battles, some were new, raw recruits. None of them really knew what the war was about except slavery and cotton. He looked down. After such a long time, he wasn’t sure himself. You tended to forget about the politics of war, when it stared at you blatantly from dead eyes.
He missed home, the green grasses of his farmland. He missed the Andersons too. He remembered Josey with a sweet fondness. So young and beautiful and yet unaware. He hadn’t considered her a woman until he’d come home. Now, she was fully-grown and the memory of her sweet face, her hair blowing in the summer breeze and her shy smile stirred something in him. And the kiss they shared at last had been so worth waiting for.
"Lieutenant." A soldier was standing over him.
"Yes, Corporal?" Leroy answered coming out of his reverie.
"You ain’t worried are you?"
Corporal Henry was only twenty and had seen one skirmish. Leroy knew he was nervous. Leroy stood up; using what sense of tact he could and faced the young man squarely.
"No…we’ll do fine."
"I ain’t never been in a full-fledged fight before, just one skirmish actually." The young man admitted, gulping down his fear.
Leroy nodded, his face scrunched from the morning sun.
"If we do this right, unless they do get across, we won’t have a full-fledged skirmish. The trick is to make sure they don’t come through. That means upsetting their intentions as much as possible. Until we frustrate them so bad they turn back. Once they see our determination not to let them through they might hightail it to their own northern camp."
"Somebody said they want Texas for the cotton. Is that true, sir?"
"That's a big part of it, and sugar cane too. And there is the slavery issue. Texas is a big prize in this war. Practically untouched, there wouldn't be much reconstruction for them, if they won it. The North manufactures cotton for clothing and other things. They sell these things to Europe. It is a huge business and without our supply, they could be in financial ruin. And sorry to say it, but without the slave power, we would be in a fix too."
"Then you mean this war ain't about slavery?"
"Well…yes and no. The slaves are a big issue with Lincoln and political figures. And we can’t lie, without them, the South couldn’t harvest the cotton near fast enough. Which would create a ripple effect. It would slow production down enough to cause other problems. There isn’t enough manpower for that. We need them here, it's that simple. But…if you look at it from the slaves point of view, it's all about them and their freedom. There will be no winners in this. Something drastic is going to have to happen to stop this war."
"Do you believe in slavery, Lieutenant?"
Leroy frowned at first, and then turning so the sun didn’t shine in his eyes he shook his head. These men were here to fight, and they deserved to know what they were fighting for.
"Corporal Henry no one has the right to make a slave of another person. I think deep down we all know that. No one has that right. Nevertheless, these things do happen. They were brought over here and sold like a commodity. That was a terrible thing to do. It’s strange, because in their native country their own people were helping to capture the Negroes, selling them to the slave traders, and bringing them over to our country. People began to realize there was a big business in slavery. Unfortunately, it is a big business and people make money off of it. It came down to money and needs. You see son, where there is money involved, people sometimes turn lose of their scruples. Least ways that’s what a northern friend told me. The Yankees wanted the Negros as a trading commodity but they soon realized they couldn’t use them in the factories without spending the time and money to train them for the work. Therefore, they sold them to the southern plantation owners of the South, who was in dire need of manual labor. Making a good profit at it too. Negroes like American Indians knew how to work the land. It came natural to them.
"The South had work the Negro understood, working with their hands and doing something they were used to doing in their own country. They not only understood, they were good at it. Maybe better than most. The southerners decided they had a commodity that they couldn’t get rid of. Once paid for, a Negro costs the white plantation owners nothing but food and housing. Which doesn’t amount to much, anyway, as they put most up in shacks on the land. While some southerners decided these people are somehow less than people. They believe that they deserve to be treated like they are, all through their own selfishness. Not all slave owners were bad. Some treated them like family. What no one seemed to understand is that these slaves are people, with a different color of skin. That’s all they are. Just people. In addition, they have the same rights as we do, to live. Someday, they will sit at their tables and laugh about all the fuss we’ve made. However, that day is long in coming. Very long. If the south had done right about it, the Negroes could have been hired out, instead of enslaved. But greed won again."
The corporal nodded. "I reckon you are right about that. My folks had twelve of us and we were a big enough family not to need slaves. My pa, he used to talk just like you about them. He said there was a huge sin among us to think ourselves better than others were. My pa…he never got involved in the politics, he left them alone, and he said God would handle it. I reckoned he was right. But then…here I am…standing up for the very things that he talked down about. So when we start to go into battle I think about that and it confuses me some. Sometimes I hesitate and I know I could die from that hesitation."
Leroy looked down at the earth scratching his worn boot into the dirt and shook his head, then stared into the young man’s eyes and smiled. "No…there are some of us here just like we were there at the Alamo and the Battle of San Jacinto, because of Texas. That's what I'm here for. To save Texas from the scars of war. This is our home. Unlike a lot of states, we are a different breed of people. We fight for this land. Someone once told me that land is worth fightin’ for. I guess they were right about that. Look around you. You don’t see them comin’ down here and burnin’ it up, killin’ our women folk, and makin’ a mess of the place. Texas…well …when Davy and the rest of them died at the Alamo, it meant something. They could have run. And no God fearing Texan ever forgot about those men hole up in the Alamo. Sam Houston made sure of that. It produced a pride that can't be explained to others. They killed thousands in Arkansas, Gettysburg was a field of dead and they trampled Virginia but they are not going to do that here in Texas. We won't let them. I think sometimes we are a different breed of man here. Ever since the Alamo fell, we determined that we won’t be pushed. No son, we fight for Texas, and that’s all there is to our part in this war. We
won't allow them to rape our women, burn our fields or steal our ships."
"I guess you're right about that, sir. Home is worth fightin' for."
"The truth is…there are slaves in Texas. We're just as guilty as any state for that. We use them to harvest our crops. To keep production going. And we are as wrong as the people in Virginia, or Georgia. A Negro is nothing more or less than a man with a different skin pigment. Mistreating them, making slaves of them, instead of giving them the respect they deserve like you and me, that's wrong. No matter how you figure it. It's wrong. I would never own a slave, but I probably wouldn't be a rich plantation owner either."
The Corporal smiled.
"Try not to feel bad when you go into battle, because what we are fighting for down here, right now, is to keep our women safe, and fields healthy and our lives. We're in this war, son. There is no way out of it. You can be arrested and thrown in prison for not joining. You can be shot for desertion. And if you simply stay on your farm or ranch during the war, you take the chance of being burned down, destroyed, and even killed. Once this war got started, there were no choices. You picked the Yanks or the Rebs. But you are in it until it's over. The best advice I can give you, is hang on until it's over. You are fighting for Texas, and the people here. And never forget, that's worth fighting for. Men died to make this a great place to live. Don't ever forget it."
The corporal tilted his head, and nodded. "Yeah, I guess you are right. I mean we work by the sweat of our brow to make a place for our families and then someone comes along and wants to rip it out from under us."
“Now you understand. Don’t fret over it. God knows what’s in your heart Corporal. You hold no malice toward these men, yet you fight for yourself, for your land, for your family. And that is worth fighting for…anytime."
The corporal nodded. "Can't say I’m not scared…"
"If you did, you'd be a liar. We’re all scared at one time or another. Fear is inevitable. Only a fool wouldn’t be." Leroy said.
"Are you scared sir?"
"You damned right I am. Every day I get up."
The Corporal chuckled.
"So how accurate are your men now with their guns?" he asked as he watched the young man, who glanced at his men with pride.
"Not bad within range. We are country boys Lieutenant, and been shootin’ most our lives." The corporal smiled. "It comes easy."
"Good, you tell the men to wait till the Yanks are within range to shoot then. Hopefully we can frustrate them enough with not letting the supplies across that they’ll pull back," Leroy instructed. "I’d like to accomplish this with as few a loss of life as possible."
"Yes sir. So would I."
"And Corporal," he called after him. "Good luck."
"Thank you, sir." The young man smiled at him again.
Leroy hated the fact that some of his men were so young. A lot of them were Hank’s age or younger and he blessed his mother for having the good sense to keep Hank home even though he wanted to go with him. A couple of his other brothers sided with the North and he didn’t know if they ever made the decision to go off and fight or not. What was worse, he didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of killing one of them in some battle. But deep down, he knew it was possible.
He pulled out his food from his bedroll, then grimaced and poked it back into his knapsack. The rations had been intolerable for some time now. Not half as good as Mrs. Anderson’s. He worried over the elder Mrs. Anderson, wishing he could do something, knowing he couldn’t. He wondered how well Josey and Rose would take her death. The difference was that Rose had someone to hold her and love her through the hard times, Josey was alone. He wished he could be there for her, but that was impossible. This war was dragging on forever and he wasn’t sure he’d ever get home for good.
When it began all the politicians said it would be over before it got started. That didn't happen. And it truly looked like the ego of the south had been broken.
The south had been so sure they were right. Leroy knew they were wrong about a lot of it now. He hated how the south had suffered so badly. Hated seeing miles of dead bodies and burial details that went on for days. He hated war. But he was in it, and he'd see it to the finish.
Sadly he realized with much regret the war could go on for years to come, unless someone changed things. It would take something drastic to end this confounded war.
Closing his eyes, Josey’s sweet face flashed before him. He lingered there for some time, until he heard the sound of wagons.
He motioned for the corporal. "Yes sir…"
"They’re coming. I want you and seven or so of your men in the water. Our job is to see those supplies don’t get through, not to kill or even fight unless we have to. We’ll have to pick a few of them off before they can build a ferry. I want those wagons dumped in the river. I don’t care if you kill one soldier, as long as the wagons don’t get through, understand?"
"Yes sir." The corporal nodded. His trepidation gone, the young Corporal stood before him without a sign of the fear that lurked moments ago.
"It’s the wagons we got to get rid of. We’ll worry about those soldiers later. If we do this right they might just turn tail and run."
"Lieutenant, what about those soldiers that went through the Anderson’s property?"
"Don’t fret…we’ll be seeing them soon enough. They are the ones that are moving those supplies."
"Yes sir."
He ordered the rest of the men to take cover while covering their men in the water and disengaging any of the Union activity. With such a load of supplies the enemy’s number would exceed his troops, but that didn’t matter. Nevertheless, battles were won by determination and good planning. It had nothing to do with numbers.
Leroy outstretched his sword into the air and hollered at the top of his lungs, "For Texas." His men answered with a loud whoop.
The firing began long before the Corporal and his men were stationed in the water, but they were very quiet, and knew how to sneak up on anything. They hunted many times before and this was easy. Leroy gave the order not to fire until they were within range. That meant the soldiers would have to be in the water crossing the Red to be able to hit them.
"Defend our line. Don't give an inch, no matter what." Leroy yelled.
The Union Army obviously heard them, but they were busy with their makings of a ferry. Some took cover and began firing, but that was useless because the bullets wouldn’t reach across the river.
They camped just along the other ridge for the night. The tension in the air grew knowing that tomorrow brought another fight, perhaps to the death.
The corporal and two others came up to him as he watched out of his spyglass as the Union Army settled in.
"Yes Corporal…what is it?" he asked not moving the spyglass.
"We found where they will probably come across. The water’s a little shallower. We’ll be ready for them." He stood at attention and saluted.
“Very good Corporal. I appreciate you and your men’s initiative. Did you volunteer for this?” he asked the others. They nodded.
"Good, we’ll give you cover fire as much as possible. Your job is to dump those wagons, anyway you can. Then get back up here. By then, we will have run them off. Do this right and I’ll see you all get commended."
"You think they’re just gonna up and run away, Lieutenant?"
Leroy turned to look at the man who asked the question. "No, I don’t. But we’ll give them what for. Our mission isn't to kill, but to frustrate them. Every time they gain an inch, push them back two inches. Keep doing this until we break 'em."
"Yes sir."
The night grew long, knowing the Yanks were just the others side of the river. Nevertheless, an army didn’t just jump out there and attack; it was all a much planned, very civilized kind of killing. Leroy pulled out his pipe and drew on it as he sat by the fire watching his men. One of his men had made it for him, and that man died, Leroy wouldn't part wit
h the pipe. Some would have pictures of their family or loved one, some would clean their guns, some would eat as though they would never get another meal, and some would never go to sleep for the worrying. He knew. He'd been one of them not long ago.
Dawn brought a lot of activity on the opposite riverbank. Leroy watched them like busy bees. They were actively building the ferry so they could cross. Leroy knew it was useless of them to spend so much time when the supplies would go down river. Unfortunately losing the supplies was a waste, but what could he do?
The corporal placed his men in the river and they waited. As the ferry made its first crossing, his men surrounded it. Cutting the ropes that held the wagons, and then forcing the wheels to roll was no easy task, all accomplished from the ferry’s edges. When the first tipped over into the water and began to float down stream, the Union Army came alive. Like ants milling for lost food.
Bullets whizzed through the air, but Leroy’s men had full cover and not losing a man was one of Leroy’s top priorities. He wanted them as safe as he could get them.
"Hold your fire men until they are closer, no use wasting bullets," he commanded. Everyone complied.
Leroy saw the Yanks heading for the water, and the wagons. He held up his hand to wait and then as they were close enough, he hollered. "Fire."
The rain of bullets flew everywhere and as they hit tree trunks and the hard earth, they made a loud popping sound. The acrid smell of gunpowder perfumed the air, and the smoke from the guns created a haze. Battles always felt like hours. The weariness of it grew. A bullet pierced one soldier’s arm, and Leroy himself went to his side. He wrapped the man’s bicep in his own shirtsleeve as he quickly tore it off to stop the bleeding. The man took up his gun again and began firing. Leroy saw heroes that day.
"Don't shoot to kill. Aim to destroy those supplies."
The battle lasted half an hour then a miracle occurred straight from Heaven itself, it rained. The Union Army was having a time trying to save the heavy equipment in the river and now fighting the rain too. Leroy glanced up at the sky and smiled. "Thanks God, great timing."
Always Remember Page 12