Prisoner in Time (Time travel)

by Petersen, Christopher David

  Standing at the bank of the Oostanaula River, David knelt by the water’s edge and filled his canteen. Bringing the contents to his lips, he took a large swallow, then stared up the river. Drifting around a bend, further upstream, he noted a raft floating lazily toward his direction.

  “I’m surprised no one’s snapped them up yet,” came the teen’s voice from behind.

  David spun around and noticed Geoff standing behind him.

  “Where’d you come from?” David asked, surprised.

  “I saw you headed this way. Figured you were getting some water. I need some too,” he answered.

  Stepping next to David, he bent down and refilled his canteen also. Standing back up, they both watched the raft continue its journey downstream.

  “It is strange,” David remarked.

  “What?”

  “Those guys on the raft. With shortages of troops on both side of the war, and both sides recruiting anything that walks or crawls, it’s kind of brazen for those two to be just sailing downstream without a care, in plain sight.”

  “That’s what I was saying,” Geoff emphasized.

  “Maybe they should send up a flare so our scouts can have an easier time pinpointing their location,” David joked.

  “Yeah, or how about a couple of air horns. Man, if you’re trying to get caught, do it right,” Geoff replied, carrying the humor further. His brow furrowed, then added “Jeez, what a couple of idiots.”

  David heard rustling in the trees further down the line. Looking back, he thought he saw movement at the river’s edge. He squinted hard, but saw nothing.

  “What is it?” Geoff asked, now staring downstream.

  “I thought I heard something back there,” he replied in puzzled tone.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Geoff saw the raft float on past, twenty yards away. Moments later, David noted the raft too.

  “Trappers it looks like,” he said to Geoff.

  “What do they trap, normally?”

  “Muskrat, beaver… basically, anything with hair,” David joked.

  Geoff watched them as they passed, then said, “They sure look dirty. Check out the clothes they’re wearing, all fur. They must get real hot in the summer.”

  “They don’t wear their furs in the summer. They have summer clothes, much the way we do.”

  “Well, summer clothes or not, they still look dirty,” Geoff replied. He paused a moment, then added, “Except for their shoes.”

  David looked across the water and stared at the two trapper’s footwear.

  “What’s wrong with their shoes?” he asked, puzzled.

  “Nothing, they’re perfect,” Geoff replied.

  David continued to stare. Suddenly, it dawned on him.

  “Holy Crap, Geoff! You’re right. The boots they’re wearing look out of place on them. In fact, they kind of look like…”

  The roar of rifle fire sounded in the trees to the right of them. Instantly David knocked Geoff to the ground. Out on the river, the two trappers lay floating in the water, their bodies riddled with bullets.

  Laying face down, Geoff and David heard more shouts from behind them. Keeping low, they turned to investigate.

  “Throw a hook out there and haul them damn rats in,” a familiar voice shouted.

  David turned toward Geoff.

  “That’s the Sarge,” he said in surprise.

  Geoff nodded simply, still shaking from the startling sight.

  “Why’d he shoot them,” he asked, his voice filled with emotion.

  “Remember the boots those two trappers were wearing?”

  Geoff nodded.

  “Well, I’m guessing they weren’t trappers. Most don’t have boots like that. Those boots looked more military, government-issue kind of boots than boots for a trapper.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying those guys were Union scouts,” David replied.

  “No way,” Geoff responded in surprised tone.

  “Yes way. I’m betting they disguised themselves as trappers so they could get close to our camp without being spotted. The problem is their boots gave them away. I’m sure one of our own scouts saw those boots from a mile away and alerted command.”

  Geoff watched the bodies drift along the river’s surface. He felt sad for their deaths.

  “Wow, that really sucks,” he said in disgust.

  “Yeah, it does. I’m sure when they thought about their disguise, they never gave a second thought to their footwear… big mistake.”

  As they continued to lie flat, they heard footsteps approaching.

  “Thought I saw y’all over here. Thought y’all was gonna spook them fellers before we all got a bead on ‘em,” Sgt. Cooper shouted as he neared.

  Instantly, Geoff and David rose to their feet and nervously waited for the sergeant to arrive.

  “What’re yall doing out here?” he asked.

  “Filling our canteens,” Geoff responded instantly, then asked, “Were those fellers the enemy?”

  “Shore was. They ain’t no more, though… dirty blue rats,” he scowled. “Our scouts caught them loadin’ their raft up yonder. Good thing too, ‘cuz they would’ve slipped on past without a whisper I ‘spect.”

  “What were they looking for? It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know we’re here?” Geoff asked, naively.

  “A rock scientist? Ain’t never heard of one. What the hell is a rock scientist?”

  “They’re a new kind of scientist... just invented recently. They study rock formations. They try to predict earthquakes,” David shot back, his eyes widening as he glanced at Geoff.

  Geoff looked away, pretending to be distracted.

  “Huh… earthquakes. Seems like an awful waste. We ain’t never seen no earthquakes ‘round here.”

  “They mostly study them in the California region. I guess they have a lot of earthquakes out there,” David replied, covering over the modern term.

  “Hmm, prolly from all that there mining for gold they done did back in the fifties,” the sergeant surmised. “Damn fools.”

  “Oh yeah, the California gold rush. I’m sure you’re right,” David nodded affirmatively.

  Looking back at Geoff, the sergeant answered his original question.

  “You’re right son, the enemy does know where we all are, generally. But, that is only general. That’s why they all send out scouts. They sneak ‘round like a fox on the hunt and observe. They all try to find out the size of our army and the strength, as well as the specifics on our positions. Some are wily enough to even learn about our battle plans,” he explained. He stared downstream a moment, then continued. “Yes Sir, scouts is the eyes and ears of the army. Cut out them eyes and ears and the army don’t stand a chance. That’s why we kilt them two fellers.”

  Hearing another soldier call out his name, Sgt. Cooper excused himself.

  “Well boys, I’ll be takin’ my leave now. If y’all see anything suspicious, holler out now, ya hear?”

  “Yes Sir, sergeant,” both replied together.

  Watching him hurry away, Geoff said, “I sure hope our scouts have better luck than those two guys.”

  -----*-----*-----*-----

  Geoff woke to the sound of footsteps running. With his eyes barely parted, a voice roared from outside the tent.

  “Y’all fall in. The enemies on the move,” Sgt. Cooper shouted loudly.

  Before he had time to move, the sergeant bent over in front of the tent and looked in.

  “Wake up fellers. We got the enemy at our doorstep,” he said. Looking to Geoff, he continued, “Grab your shooting iron, son. I’m counting on you to give them blue scum a good showin’.”

  “Yes Sir, sergeant,” Geoff responded, as he rolled to his knees.

  As he crawled out of the tent, David followed close behind.

  “What a way to start the morning,” he said to Geoff, sarcastically.

  As the two stood outside their tent, they both watched as the sergea
nt repeated his message further down the line.

  “Y’all fall in! Move y’alls asses, Now!” he shouted over and over.

  Geoff turned to David with a puzzled stare.

  “What?” David asked, impatiently staring back at Geoff.

  “Did you just hear what he said to those guys?”

  “Yeah… he told them to move their asses. So what?”

  “So… he didn’t say that to us,” Geoff shot back in puzzled tone.

  “What did he say to us?” David asked, still half asleep.

  “Duh… he was nice to us. He called us fellers,” he replied, slightly exasperated. “Don’t you remember? He told us to grab our shooting irons and that he was counting on us.”

  “Wow, I must be in a fog or something. I don’t remember any of that. All I remember is him saying ‘Fall in’.” David thought about Geoff words a moment, then added, “I guess he’s warming up to us, huh?”

  “Yeah, I would say he is. I’m betting it’s because we saved his life.”

  “More than once too,” David retorted.

  “I’m betting it’s also how you handled yourself that last time. That was a pretty impressive shooting display you gave during that battle.”

  “Hey, it wasn’t all me. If you hadn’t loaded as fast as you did, I never would have been able to pin those guys down,” David responded modestly. “I’m guessing he’s impressed with both of us.”

  “Good, maybe he’ll stop riding us all the time,” Geoff shot back. He yawned then said, “We better get our stuff ready. If we’re on his good side, I want to stay there.”

  David nodded and vanished into the canvas tent. Seeing the sergeant in the distance, Geoff did the same.

  Several minutes later, with their rifles and haversacks waiting at the ready, they built a fire and brewed themselves coffee. While they nibbled on their hardtack crackers, they watched the sergeant charge up the row between the tents continuing to shout orders.

  As he approached their tent once more, he slowed his pace, then walked to the edge of their fire. He knelt down and warmed his hands momentarily, then looked over to Geoff.

  “Y’alls coffee smells perty good,” he hinted, a slow grin spreading across his face.

  “Would you care for some? There’s plenty,” Geoff gladly offered.

  “That’s mighty generous of you there, son. Don’t mind if I do,” Sgt. Cooper said with an appreciative smile.

  He reached behind him and unsnapped a flap, holding his coffee tin. He picked up a rag lying next to the fire and grabbed the handle of the coffee pot as it sat on a bed of hot coals. He filled his cup and replaced the pot on the fire. Slowly, he sipped his coffee.

  “That’s a fine brew you have there gents,” he said, now coming to his feet. “My wife can brew coffee this good too.”

  “I didn’t know you were married,” David responded, now curious.

  “Shore am. Married to the pertiest gal this side of the Mississippi,” he replied proudly.

  Instantly, he lifted his side flap and pulled out a small yellowed photograph. Kneeling again, he handed it to David, sitting by the fire.

  “Wow, what a beautiful family you have Sarge,” David said, mesmerized by the photo. “And such a large family… three boys, two girls.”

  “Actually, there’s another young ‘un that ain’t pictured in that there photo. The missus and I had her just two years ago… after I went home a spell. I ain’t never seen her though, but the missus says she’s a spittin’ image of me,” he replied, now beaming.

  “Wow, six children. They must miss you terribly,” Geoff said, now thinking of how he missed his own parents.

  “It’s me who misses them terribly,” he responded, his tone instantly becoming soft.

  “How do you do it? How do you stay focused in battle, knowing at any minute, your children could be fatherless or your wife widowed?” David asked, bluntly.

  As David handed the photo over to Geoff, Sgt. Cooper stared thoughtfully into the fire. He then cleared his throat and spoke.

  “I ain’t made of steel, boys. I won’t lie to y’all. Sometimes just before the lead flies, I almost dirty my britches. It’s a scary time cuz all you do is think of your family and what would come of them if you was kilt. I venture to say it’s enough to chase someone right off. But desertion ain’t for me, mind you. I’d rather be kilt in battle than see my wife and young ‘uns carry my shame for the rest of their lives. I love them too much to do something so ugly to them. Yes Sir, I do believe that is what keeps me focused.” he said.

  Taking a sip of his coffee, he continued:

  “Now once the action commences, other forces take over your thoughts. Scared is replaced by obligation. When the ball begins to fly, protecting my men and fulfilling my orders is what keeps me focused. I’ve got folks counting on me. Their lives depend on it and I won’t let ‘em down or I’ll die trying. Does that make any sense to you two fellers or am I just talking gibberish?”

  David looked into his eyes and for a moment, he saw another man. He saw a loving gentle husband and father who under better circumstances, would be tending to their needs with unwavering dedication. He saw a man whose commitment to his men and superiors embodied the greatest example of duty and honor. Staring into the sergeants eyes, he felt humbled.

  “Sgt. Cooper, not a single word you spoke was gibberish. Your words were as profound as they were moving. You really are a good man,” David said, proudly.

  He reached out his hand. Sgt. Cooper grasped it, smiled and pumped it vigorously in gratitude.

  “I shorely appreciate that,” he replied, modestly. “With all the killin’ around us, a man can grow confused about what he’s become.”

  “Well, I just want to say, I’m proud to serve under you,” Geoff added.

  “Thank you, son,” Sgt. Cooper responded, now shaking Geoff’s hand in gratitude.

  For a moment, there was only silence between the three. As the quiet grew unpleasant, Sgt. Cooper ended their exchange.

  “Well boys, we all have a battle to fight. We’ll all be assemblin’ out yonder by the large boulders in about five minutes,” he said, now standing. “Once there, we’ll all be marching to the northern edge of Rocky Face Ridge,” he finished, pointing toward their destination.

  “We’ll be ready,” Geoff replied.

  Sgt. Cooper nodded approvingly, then turned to walk away. He hesitated in mid-stride, and turned back to Geoff and David once more.

  “Just wanted t’ let y’all know, I won’t be forgettin’ yall savin’ my life back in Dalton. You not only saved me, but you saved my family additional.”

  Before Geoff or David could speak, Sgt. Cooper tipped his hat to the two and hurried away.

  David turned to Geoff and said, “Yup, you were right.”

  “About what?” he asked.

  “Special treatment from the Sarge for saving his life.”

  “I knew it,” Geoff boasted with a proud smile. “I wonder how long it’ll last for though.”

  “As long as we keep saving his life,” David joked.

  -----*-----*-----*-----

  The northern edge of Rocky Face Ridge:

  The three looked out toward the north over the rocky rolling field. Only a couple hundred feet wide, its length seemed to stretch out from east to west as far as the eyes could see. Dotted throughout the open space, large oak trees stood strong in the early morning light. To their left, the formidable cliff of Rocky Face Ridge stood nearly six hundred feet above them.

  David looked up and wondered about the rugged hilltop.

  “Just curious… anyone try to reach the top of that cliff?” he said to Sgt. Cooper.

  “Only a couple of birds, I ‘spect,” the sergeant shot back in playful humor. “The general send out a batch of scouts the other day, looking for a way to the top, but they ain’t found nothin’ yet.”

  David nodded in understanding. Looking off to his right, he scanned the long skirmish line that stretched out for
nearly a quarter of a mile. At the furthest point, the soldiers were undetectable.

  “You think Gen. Sherman will try to out flank our right side? Seems like it might be a pretty easy thing to do. He can use the forest for cover and simply rush around our right flank and hit us from behind,” David wondered.

  “We have scouts all through those woods. If they all even ventured in there to take a crap, we all would know about it in short order,” the sergeant rebutted. “I think a bigger worry is the west side of this here ridge line. If Gen. Sherman is so inclined, he could send a unit down through the valley on the other side of us all. They all could march to the end of the ridge and backtrack up this side of the valley completely unmolested. They all could march right up our tails.”