The Shiloh Series: Books 1-3

by Phillip Bryant

  Will spread his force out along the fields surrounding the crossroads and waited for another enemy column to come galloping from the direction of Pittsburg Landing, almost hoping another Yankee squad would blunder into his arms, but nothing came. Satisfied that he’d followed the spirit if not exactly the letter of his orders, Will pulled his troop out of Michie’s. The troopers, with an extra horse in tow each, trotted back toward Corinth without a care in the world. Will, elated with his singular success, was lost in reverie. He imagined that bagging a company of Yankees and fresh mounts would net him a congratulatory order and a mention of the day’s happenings in the daily reports, and Kearns praising his ingenuity and pluck.

  Monterey, Tennessee, was to be occupied and picketed. The job had been done by Colonel Joseph Wheeler’s brigade, replaced by the arriving infantry brigade and the 1st Alabama. Will, the first to arrive, put his men on the north side of the village and waited for the arrival of the other squadrons of the troop.

  Will did not have long to wait. Kearns’s squadron arrived and took up positions next to Will’s men. The infantryman of Gibson’s brigade trudged into the village, throwing up barricades and making camp. Will strode confidently toward his troop commander, feeling his day was at hand.

  Dismounting with a grunt, Captain Kearns strode forcefully through the mud toward Will, his arms swinging wildly. “Hunter! What the devil are you on about? You were ordered to scout Michie’s and report back, not raise a ruckus!”

  Will was stunned stupid. “Sir?”

  “I heard what you did from the men you sent back with the prisoners! You reckless ass!”

  Kearns’s voice carried further than Will would have liked, and the passing infantry marching by stared.

  Will reached for his gauntlets—a hard slap of tanned leather across the man’s cheekbone would be enough to silence the run of his mouth. There was decorum, and then there was honor. Will stopped himself. A duel might sound like an elegant way of dealing with Kearns, but it would never stand with his superiors.

  Kearns regarded Will for a long moment, a curse hanging on his lips. Gentlemanly conduct did not apply to the army. When Will didn’t make any further movement, Kearns went on. “And don’t point to the booty you lifted from those prisoners; it all goes to the quartermaster. I want your men to turn in what they took, especially the horses!”

  Kearns turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Will trembling.

  Stomping back to his squads, Will angrily ordered his men to turn in the weapons, saddles, and horses. Confusion and anger showed on their faces. Will took a step after Kearns but stayed his feet. Too many witnesses. He would sit in a stockade before long if he continued. Allen wasn’t going to intercede on his behalf again, especially if it was his own fault.

  Mitchell rode in with his squadrons an hour later and sought out Will. He found him leaning against a fence rail looking sullen. Spitting a brown stream of tobacco, Will nodded absently.

  “Heard you had quite a day,” Mitchell said. “We didn’t see nuthin’.”

  Will grunted and tossed a pebble. “We followed Lick Creek, crossed it, found the enemy in possession of Michie’s, and then took Michie’s and a squadron of enemy cavalry and lost no one. What do we get in return? No thanks, and no loot for the trouble.” Will tossed another pebble.

  “You showed Kearns up; he wouldn’t have done it. He don’t like you showin’ him up in front of Allen or Clanton,” Mitchell said.

  “Weren’t right,” Will punctuated his words by hefting another rock at a nearby water bucket, missing, “upbraiding me in front of my men and all these people.” He nodded in the direction of the infantrymen milling about.

  “Forget it. You’re in Kearns’s report of today’s activities, an’ he don’t like that neither.”

  “He’s an intolerable child; but I won’t make captain with Kearns making life difficult.” Will spat angrily.

  “He’s also an idiot and incompetent. He’ll find himself cashiered soon enough.”

  “Not until he gets us all killed. I ain’t waitin’ fer that.”

  “Our days of parade and looking like dandies are over; if he don’t get himself killed by his own stupidity, he’ll get tired of this and go back to his plantation.”

  “He won’t tire of it; he wants to be lieutenant colonel and command the regiment. Hell, every commissioned officer here wants to find some opportunity to play the cavalier and advance in command.”

  Mitchell winked. “Difference is, only a few know how to do it without the lie. Money bought him the rank, but it can’t buy him smarts.”

  Will nodded. He had put up with plenty of Kearns’s arrogance and demeaning assignments. Meantime, Will was adding to his skills a penchant for sizing up a tactical situation and exploiting it with his natural tracking ability, a tactical ability that Kearns sorely lacked. What Kearns did have was rank and a jealousy that made anyone with ambition a rival.

  “He ain’t forgiven you fer liberating that supply column in our retreat from Kentucky. He had to put you in the daily report then too,” Mitchell said.

  “That were a nice bit of cavalrymanship, if I do say so myself!” Will said with a chuckle.

  “Kearns do that fer anyone who shows him up, so pay it no mind. He can’t give you, me, and Peters all the no-excitement assignments. Someone has to get the plum one each time.”

  Will shifted and selected another rock, tossing it lightly in his hand.”Oh, he thinks he’s bein’ careful an’ always giving me the rear-echelon duties. But damn him!” With another hard toss, the stone landed in the bucket with a satisfying plunk. “And confronting him leads nowhere. He’ll see me back under arrest before this is all through, mark my words.”

  “Major Allen is on to his shines; he can’t keep throwing his squadron commanders in the stockade.”

  “Major Allen ain’t always going to be interfering neither. One of these days Kearns is going to go too far. I got the luck assignment again.”

  “Here’s to dumb luck,” Mitchell said, and raised an imaginary glass.

  Will returned to his men chastened and cross. The troop was spread out in a semicircle about the northern end of the village in groups of squads. Will saw to their deportment, and satisfied with their food and horses, he found a lonely spot to call his home for the night where he could remain in quick contact with his pickets. Settling down, he dug a chaw out of his pocket. Being an officer was not the glamorous life he’d envisioned. It was not hard work, but he was definitely out of place amidst the men of birth and privilege who sported stars on their collars. The infantry brigade, whose presence remained a mystery to him, were busily throwing up crude breastworks and posting pickets. It looked as if they would be in Monterrey for a few days.

  With his duties for the day completed, Will was unrolling his blanket under a tree when Lieutenant Peters rode up and dismounted. Peters was officer of the day, and it was his lot to spend a sleepless night checking all of the troop’s picket posts. Roused now after dousing his modest cook fire, Will stoked it once more and threw another bag of roasted coffee beans into his cup.

  “Where’s your squads?” Peters asked, kneeling down by the feeble coals.

  “Spread out at twenty-five-pace intervals; just head that way for a hundred yards and you’ll see my men,” Will replied listlessly, poking the coals with a stick.

  “Maybe it won’t rain and make this a long and soggy night.” Peters scratched his sideburns. “Hear you had some excitement; found you an inferior force o’ Yanks.”

  “Was excitin’ fer a minute or two.”

  “Got a good haul of mounts, that ain’t bad.”

  “Small patrol—they was about to light out when we hit ‘em. Shor surprised them Yanks.” Will grinned, a quick, momentary lapse of his moodiness.

  “Wait ‘til Allen submits his report to Clanton; your name is sure to appear again. Kearns ain’t gonna like that.”

  “Kearns’ll have it in for me shor, now. We was close to the
enemy today—hell, we’re close now! This ain’t some reconnaissance in force. I suspect we in for a battle soon.” Will nudged his cup closer into the coals.

  “We brought a whole brigade with us; we relieved Wheeler’s brigade, an’ they was the only ones here afore. Now we got us a nice little raiding party sure,” Peters said and stood. “I’ll be by presently after I check the posts.”

  As Peters trotted off into the darkness, Will poked the coals absently. Peters wasn’t going to let him sleep.

  ****

  Major William Allen collated the days’ returns as the various Troops reported their final positions and daily reports straggled in. The candlelight flickered slightly. The house Colonel Clanton had taken over for his headquarters sat astride the Corinth road some distance away from Monterrey and Michie’s, where the regiment’s troops were scattered about. There was little of interest in the reports—just the troops documenting all movements and anything that might have bearing on the day’s objectives—save for one.

  “Major?” Lieutenant McMurtle popped his head through the doorway of the house. “Captain Kearns wishes to speak with you.”

  “Bring him in, Lieutenant.” Allen shifted in the wooden chair he’d occupied for several hours writing out the orders of the day for the morrow and condensing the troop returns into one document. The writing desk was a simple affair with foldable legs and a compartment for holding paper and ink. The oil lamps and candles glowed yellow and painted the room in warmth, which after a chilly day in the rain gave him a cozy feeling. The room was sparse and indifferently furnished by the owners of the house who were ensconced in a back room, unsure of what to expect from yet another set of army officers taking over their abode. Old chairs and tables for the lamps sat along the walls, covered in old and stained doily cloth. As if to disgrace the tea service that stood against the corner wall, a dirty and dented steel coffee boiler sat in the middle of the cart with steel coffee mugs ranged around it and a plate of hardtack in place of dainty sandwiches.

  “Sir,” Jackson Kearns said and saluted. “Begging the major’s pardon, but I wish to request that Lieutenant Hunter be relieved of duty and placed under arrest for disobeying orders.”

  Allen pushed himself back from the desk and sighed. Tapping a finger upon the desk’s surface, he fixed Kearns with a look of incredulity. “Troop A accomplished its orders today in a most satisfactory condition. You want Hunter arrested why?”

  “Sir, Hunter nearly brought on a general engagement and did not follow my orders in a manner which was acceptable.”

  “Captain, you offered charges against the lieutenant two months ago, and those charges were deemed most unsatisfactory given the state of affairs in our retreat. Nor were the charges considered of sufficient merit.”

  “Sir, I beg your sufferance on this matter.” Kearns shifted slightly though maintaining an attitude of attention. “Hunter could have led his squadrons into a trap and lost them all. I wish him to be relieved or transferred to another troop. It is in the best interest of A Troop to be under firmer control at the officer level.” Kearns was pleading, momentarily folding his arms then quickly dropping them to his sides once more.

  Allen stood and walked over to the tea service to refresh the coffee in his cup. “Captain, what Lieutenant Hunter did today, based upon your own report, was to clear Michie’s of enemy interference as we prepare to march the entire army upon that spot.” Taking a sip, he wished he was enjoying this cup in peace. “I see nothing in that action to merit such a response. Has the lieutenant been insubordinate in any way?” Taking another long sip, he lowered the cup and stared hard at Kearns.

  “No sir, but he did not obey his orders not to bring on an engagement.”

  “I see no engagement in your report, Captain. I note that Hunter’s squadrons captured a squadron of enemy cavalry belonging to the 5th Ohio. I call that following orders, Captain Kearns. My orders to you were to ensure that Michie’s was clear of the enemy. Further, Captain, you must cease offering charges against your squadron commanders each time they do something you don’t like. A Troop is not your personal army.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kearns replied gloomily.

  “I will be forwarding this action to General Bragg for his report of today’s activities for the regiment. Hunter has displayed initiative several times. I will not see him arrested. You are dismissed, Captain.”

  “Sir,” Kearns saluted and stomped out of the house.

  “McMurtle,” Allen called.

  “Sir.” The lieutenant appeared in the doorway.

  Allen took a step towards his desk and retrieved the report he’d finished before the interruption.”Take this to General Bragg’s aide-de-camp with my compliments.”

  Allen stretched. The day had been long in the saddle and the evening filled with paperwork and report writing. Across the room, Colonel Clanton was reading quietly by the light of an oil lamp.

  “Kearns is an buffoon, but a well-placed one,” Clanton muttered.

  “Kearns has had it in for this Hunter for some time, Colonel. Seems unseemly for a captain to be jealous of one of his lieutenants, but I can’t see any other way about it.”

  “Don’t think much of Hunter either, Major, but the man has brought some accolades to his troop. I’ll not tolerate any more of the captain’s shines. Any more such requests and I’ll see to it Kearns is replaced.”

  Chapter 6

  Monterrey, Tennessee, April 4, 1862

  With rain falling in torrents, Will’s squadrons sloshed into Michie’s Crossroads for the second time in as many days. Joined by Peters’s squadrons, they formed a compact double column that jostled along with authority. The buildings were becoming something of a familiar sight, and this morning in the misty fog of the rain they looked forlorn and empty. Only the two-story Michie house showed any signs of life, with several lamps glowing in the front windows. The porch was empty, but a well-worn trail of muddy footprints led to and from the muddy wood steps. The tavern was boarded up and a bored provost guard stationed at its entrance to ward off anyone intent on nipping some liquor. This time they were being followed by more infantry, and it did not look to be just a temporary sojourn.

  The downpour was making a mess of everything. The arrival of Polk’s Corps was to have been hours ago, but Braxton Bragg’s columns were still vying for possession of the eastern Corinth road. Polk was to have been taking up attack positions around Michie’s now. It didn’t matter much to Will; either way he and his men were soaked to the bone and shivering.

  Squinting in the downpour, Will rode at the head of his troopers, his carbine resting on his lap. Lieutenant Peters’s men moved in single-file columns within supporting distance, covering a front of fifty yards to either side. If they ran into a Federal patrol, they could easily form a line to confront them. Kearns was still in Monterrey waiting for the brigades to finish filing past so he could form the rest of the troop as a rear guard. Again, Will’s troop was on their own. The rest of the 1st Alabama were off screening the advance of Bragg’s Corps, Daniel Ruggle’s division, divided into little detachments covering several miles of miserable troop movement.

  His orders were to scout ahead of the infantry and ward off any prying eyes. He was to push forward to Michie’s Tavern again and then along the Corinth road—but not any further than several hundred yards or past the Bark road. Nor was he to engage the enemy; if encountered, he was to fall back. Still stinging from the rebuke of the other day, Will wasn’t any clearer on what “engage the enemy” meant to Kearns. Apparently not engaging the enemy meant running away from any single man in blue. That wasn’t sitting right. Will wasn’t going to run away.

  The tavern, built by Irish immigrants named Michie—mispronounced Mitchy if read on a map or misspelled as “Micky” more often than not. It served as a waypoint along the east Corinth and Hamburg roads and a convenient place to stop along the commercial roadways and markets for river trade. Lately it had been the waypoint between the armies, as cava
lry patrols often kept watch over each other, and the location changed hands on a daily basis, though little of the war actually disrupted the normal lives of the residents of the area.

  On the outskirts of Michie’s, Will and Peters conferred over the poorly sketched map they had been provided of the area, a map that was getting soaked as they studied it. Dismounted, they laid it over Will’s saddle to plan their advance. “We push down the Corinth road to the Bark road an’ halt or thereabouts. Enemy camp supposed to be somewhere beyond.”

  “I’ll leave behind Number 6 Squadron to occupy Michie while we push down ahead. No more of this superior force nonsense, Will.” Peters fixed him with a look of seriousness. “We don’t want to be seen.”

  Will sucked in a breath before answering. “Orders say do not engage any enemy force, superior or not. We push down to the Bark road an’ see how far this enemy camp spreads. We make sure the road is clear of enemy pickets or spot them afore they spot us.”

  “Seems sensible enough,” Peters said.

  “Take half the squadron on the road in double column, an’ half as flankers on each side,” Will suggested.

  Will and Peters rode silently in the middle of the road, with their squadrons in single file flanking them. No one talked, and each step forward brought with it a sense of impending doom, a hushed awe and expectation. The rain and vigilance made the first mile feel like it took an hour to cover, though the road was straight and visibility clear. The eastern Corinth road took them through open farm country with plenty of space to marshal the army into lines of battle. Where the land had not been cleared, the forest grew thickly in patches, bringing with it a sense of isolation and privacy, hiding who knew what. Farmhouses went unseen but for a sudden break or turn in the road revealing wild hogs and ramshackle houses. The lonely countryside went on for miles, and Will caught himself fidgeting with the reins. There was very little along the way as far as landmarks to guide by. Where was the junction with Bark Road? How much further down this lonely track?