by Larry Hunt
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Move Out
It is still dark, a couple hours before the sun shows its morning light on the eastern horizon as Luke and his tent mates are hustled outside and told to fall into line. It is early August; however, this particular early morning around Washington the weather is foggy, cool and damp after the heavy rains of the previous days.
Luke and his father, both unaware of the other, are standing in the long line of soldiers boarding the wagons to continue their journey. The moon is full, but the recent rain clouds and fog obscure most of its light. Now and then breaks in the clouds allow enough illumination to see around. Luke stands in line about twenty-five feet to Robert’s right. As the clouds part Luke quickly glances to his right to see if he knew anyone. Not recognizing any of the soldiers Luke turns to his left. At that very moment, the clouds roll back over the moon again casting dark shadows all around the area. His father and the long line of soldiers are mere black, lifeless shapes. Faces unrecognizable in the dark. Luke thinks, ‘Dadgum! I thought I’d see someone from my old Company who might know what happened to Father and Matthew.’
Robert climbs into the back of the wagon. He frowns and looks at the campfires off in the distance. ‘Stay here? Right! Until these blue-bellies decide we need to be somewhere else, and I’ll wager it’s not going to be Old Capitol Prison.’ As Luke continues to climb into his wagon, Robert stands at the tailgate watching his son get into his wagon. He thinks to himself, ‘It seems I know that man... but from where?’
“Robert? Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I suppose, thought I saw someone I knew, but my memory’s not back enough to know from where. How you doing?”
Climbing in Ben answers, “Yeah, I reckon I’m okay too. Robert, where yer thank we’re headin’ this time?”
“Don’t know Ben, but we’ll know more when it gets daylight, and we see which way the sun comes up.”
Day is arriving, the sky is overcast, but they can see the sky getting lighter in the east just before sunup. The wagons continue sloshing and miring their way through the mud. The poor, ole tired mules pull with all their might. The mud holes have not gotten any smoother, and the road is just as rough or rougher as was the trip from Gettysburg. All day the wheels of the wagons roll, and by Roberts’s reckoning they are heading southeast. He still does not know their destination.
Six wagons behind Luke is doing the best he possibly can for his friend Jamie. After Jamie’s initial visit to Luke, he somehow, got himself transferred to Luke’s tent. Earlier this cool, damp morning they are standing side by side as the orders are given to board the wagons. The dozens and dozens of wagons and hundreds of animals have turned the ground to a muddy quagmire at least six inches deep. Luke slops through the mud and mounts the rear of their transport wagon, but Jamie loses his footing and falls in to the mud as he is trying to board. One of the Yankee guard curses at him, then takes the butt of his musket and smashes it in to Jamie’s face. He is knocked unconscious. Luke and another soldier jump out and lift Jamie into the wagon. Jamie now lies on the wooden floor moaning and groaning as the blood runs from a nasty cut on his head, and drips thru a crack to the muddy road below.
Evening is nearing – they have been on the road all day – none of the prisoners have eaten a bite of food nor taken a sip of water. Fortunately, Jamie has remained unconscious all day and did not have to endure the hunger and thirst on the miserable ride southeast. Point Lookout! Luke knows Point Lookout is the only destination southeast of Washington. Good that Jamie is not awake to hear that depressing bit of news!
The wagon train stops for the night in the vicinity of a local tavern. Drinking water is not available, and the Yankees have given them neither food nor water. Once the men are allowed out of the wagons most fall on their hands and knees and drink water from the wagon ruts and mud holes. It is dank and dirty, but wet and satisfying to the thirst. Luke cleans Jamie’s wound the best he can manage under the circumstances. Luke knows the cut should have six or eight stitches to control the bleeding and, God willing, to heal properly.
Luke can see the lights of the tavern and overhearing the talk of a Yankee guard finds out it is called Surratt’s Tavern. If he only could get inside, maybe, someone would give him the necessary medical supplies to help Jamie, or maybe he could break-in after everyone was asleep and steal what he needed. His dear old mother had always taught him not to steal, but Luke thinks this is a unique situation, and his mother had never envisioned his current plight. Maybe just this once, Mother and perhaps God would understand.
THE STRANGER
It is well past midnight; Luke has gone over at least a dozen plans to slip from his wagon. He somehow must make his way across the field of mud to Surratt’s Tavern; however, each of his plans has its drawbacks, and Luke knows if he is captured or worse – shot, Jamie will have no one to care for him. And without Luke his good friend will, in all likelihood, die. Whatever he does he has to get back to the wagon before daybreak.
Suddenly, there is a slight tapping on the side of the wagon. Very faint at first, there it is again, this time a little louder. Luke moves to the side of the wagon and slowly lifts the canvas cover ever so slightly, expecting a rifle butt to his face. Standing between the wagon and a dim light coming from the tavern is the dark outline of a man. Luke can see enough from the light of the moon to tell the man is tall, wearing a black, rain slicker and a black, broad-brimmed hat. He is no soldier!
“Sesech!” Whispers the specter of a man. “I hear you have not had either food or water, I brought you a small passel of sustenance to eat and drink.” He approaches the wagon, raises the canvas further, and passes two half-gallon syrup buckets through the opening to Luke. One contains water the other food.
“Who are you Sir?” Luke whispers trying not to arouse the guards.
“My name is unimportant – just say I am a friend of the Southern Cause, stuck in this Godforsaken land of the ungodly Yankee enemy.”
“Sir, we are mighty grateful for the kindness you have shown, but if you are truly a Southerner at heart might I ask a favor?”
“Certainly, my brother at heart.”
Luke tells the visitor about his friend’s wound. Luke explains how badly Jamie is hurt. He asks if it might be possible for him to obtain the necessary medical supplies so he can dress and bandage Jamie’s head.
The man offers no reply; he turns and walks back toward the tavern. Halfway back he is approached by one of the Yankee guards.
“Halt, who goes there?”
There is a muted reply. Luke cannot hear what the man in black says to the guard.
“Advance and be recognized,” the guard says loudly. The stranger approaches and the two men talk for a brief moment or two and then the stranger and the guard walk back to the tavern.
Luke could not quite see all that was happening. He saw enough to know the helpful stranger has been caught. Was he telling the guard Luke was trying to seek assistance? If so, then Luke is in for a beating or...or... worse, he can do nothing but wait for the guard to pull him from the wagon.
A while later he hears a tap...tap...tap on the canvas. Luke peers out; there stands the mysterious man again.
“I hope this helps,” the man said, handing Luke a few medical items and a ‘housewife.’ “Godspeed, my friends. No one should be treated like you gallant soldiers of the South. Animals! They treat you as animals – it’s that Devil Abraham Lincoln’s fault. Someone ought to do something about him – yes, that’s what I say, do something about him. Goodnight gentlemen,” and he disappears in to the night.
Luke opens the ‘housewife’ removes a needle and thread and begins stitching Jamie’s cut back together. The stranger has also supplied a bandage and some medicinal ointment, which Luke uses generously.
By early morning, the guards begin to awake. The muleskinners hitch the teams to the wagons. Luke has finished stitching and bandaging Jamie’s wounds. He is partially awake, and Luke
kneels beside him letting him take a sip or two of the cool spring water. Luke believes he will get better now. As Luke is putting the top back on the water can, he hears two guards outside his wagon talking.
The first one says to the other, “You don’t say?”
The second answers, “I ain’t lying that’s the honest truth...if I ain’t standing here. It was him I tell you...he was here last night in the tavern... he was wearing that black slicker.”
“Well, I’ll be!” said the first soldier. “Never thought I’d see him in the flesh...well I’ll be...!”