The Confederate

by Tony Roberts

  Billy swallowed and nodded. “Hey, sorry boys, I just got mad at Rosie being treated like that!”

  Munz growled and walked off, eager to get fed. Llewellyn pulled a face and followed the corporal. Case ambled up, feeling tired and cold, and pointed at Billy’s tent. “Get yourself kitted up and report to me in ten minutes, ready for a patrol. You want to make it up to the boys? Well start by doing some hard work. I’m going to run your ass off, Brady!”

  Billy saluted, shocked. He turned and practically fell over his feet in his haste to get his equipment on. Case muttered under his breath and stomped off to get shaved, bellowing at Furlong to get the bowl and razor ready. Joe Siddeley raised his eyebrows at Furlong who shrugged. A bad-tempered sergeant wasn’t good news. Siddeley decided he best get some breakfast for Case.

  Ten minutes later Case shrugged on his pack and waited for the rest of the patrol to report. His face smarted in the cold air from the scraping of Furlong’s razor, and his stomach felt heavy from the half stale bread he’d thrown down his throat. Billy stood stiffly to attention in front of him and the others gradually appeared, still fastening buckles or jackets. “Right,” Case growled, “to show you once and for all we stick together like a team,” and he looked balefully at Billy who reddened, “we will work today on patrol like a team. I’ll teach you all how to go about it, supporting one another. It’s something I learned the hard way in Mexico.”

  With a curt jerk of his head he led the others off towards Colonel Williams’ tent. Captain Skivenham was there, a map in his hand. Standing alongside him were two more men of the platoon, both members of ‘C’ squad. They were both tough looking Virginians by the names of John Quiller and Ed Dunkley.

  “What are they doing here, Captain?” Case asked, coming up to the tent.

  “Punishment duties, like yourself. Caught trying to steal livestock from the locals. So they’re on patrol duty with you.”

  Case glared at the two men who didn’t look sorry. Quiller was a dark complexioned averagely built man with a near permanent sneer written across his face, as though nothing mattered a damn to him; while Dunkley was taller, rangier and had curly hair and a wide nose which looked as though someone had hit it hard sometime in the past. Probably had, Case thought. He hadn’t come across the two misbehaving before, and their corporal had obviously been watching them closely. However this time he’d not and the two had been caught. Stupid.

  “Right you two, form up with the others and wait for orders.” The two slouched insolently into line. Skivenham tapped the map and Case peered round awkwardly to see what the captain was indicating. “Yankee is planning to cross the river,” Skivenham said, “we don’t know when or where. Your job is to go down to the waterfront and see if anything is happening. There are other units in town so don’t go getting in their way.”

  Case nodded. His small patrol followed him out of camp and down the hill close to the railroad that ran east into Fredericksburg. From this position they could see the extensive defensive breastworks being thrown up by the Confederates, right at the top of the hills that ran up from the town. “Heck, Sarge,” Llewellyn exclaimed, staring at the cannons and stacks of rifled muskets, “Yankee surely won’t attack us here!”

  Case nodded. “It would be suicide, but we’ve got to be ready in case they try it.”

  “Why don’t we occupy the town?” Billy queried, “we’d let Yankee take it?”

  “Worried about Rosie, huh?” Siddeley poked at Billy. The two newcomers looked at the boy, smirking. Billy went red again. “Well, yeah, but why let them have the town?”

  “Hard to defend against superior numbers,” Case replied, “and look how easily Yankee could come round the flank here. Up on the hill we’re better dug in and have room to move. In a town you haven’t. Town fighting is tough. It’s hard, dirty and dangerous. You can’t see further than the next corner and the enemy could be all round you before you know it.”

  All the while Case was leading the small group along the western bank of the railroad cutting that ran towards Fredericksburg and beyond. Before the war it had crossed the river on a large bridge but this had been blown up and now only the pilings showed above the surface of the water. Fredericksburg lay to the north and opposite where they were the land fell away to the river, giving them a clear view across to the Union lines on the other side.

  Quiller nudged Billy and nodded towards the quiet town. “Hey, want to pay your sweetheart a visit? Bet she’s waiting for her little darling lover boy.” He laughed, full of his own humor.

  Billy angrily shrugged off Quiller’s arm and stalked away from him, content to be alongside Munz. “Ooh,” Quiller said loudly, “touchy, ain’t we?”

  “Shut up, Quiller,” Case snapped. “I don’t need any of you arguing or fighting amongst yourselves. The captain warned me about that, so if anyone looks like starting a fight, I’ll finish it. Clear?”

  “Sure thing Sarge,” Quiller grinned, “no need to get all excited!”

  Case swung round. “Listen to me you idiot. You’re on a charge for theft. If you try anything I’ll throw you into the Rappahannock, you and your buddy here, and not care a damn. Your only chance of survival is to do as I tell you. You know nothing, except that I’m your best chance of survival. Got it?”

  Quiller nodded, his expression still humorous. Case resumed walking. Dunkley rolled his eyes. Llewellyn grinned and winked at Billy who made sure he stayed away from the two. Munz kept on glancing at the two as he walked alongside but said nothing. Siddeley took up point and crept down towards the riverbank and finally crawled to a position to see what was going on. Some thin brush concealed the group and they watched as the blue coated soldiers went about their preparations. “Something’s up,” Case pointed at a stack of wooden lengths being piled up. There were other piles covered with tarpaulins and sheets. But one or two had pointed ends and it was clear they were boats of some sort.

  “Pontoon bridges,” Siddeley commented. “Those bastards are going to cross.”

  “Yeah,” Case agreed. “I think we ought to report this to the camp. Someone else probably has already; you can’t miss that, but best to make sure, and besides,” he grinned, looking round at the others, “we get an early meal.” The others concurred nodding. Billy looked anxiously towards Fredericksburg as they retraced their steps, the grey skies lowering with a chill wind blowing across the rises. “Sarge, what about Rosie?”

  “She’ll be okay. If the Feds take the town, they’ll want feeding and something to drink. Stupid to do anything to the tavern or its staff; and the staff know better than to refuse. Business is business after all, even from the enemy.”

  “But — she’ll be at their mercy!”

  “Aw, lover boy is all worried about his sweetheart,” Quiller whined.

  Billy rounded on the smirking man in fury, his face red. “You shut your mouth!” The next moment both were rolling about on the ground together, hats flying off, fists belaboring one another. The others made space and began cheering on their favorite, but Case stepped in and picked both up, one in each hand. “Cut it out right now!” He cuffed Billy round the head and threw Quiller onto his back. “You, Brady, best keep your mind on soldiering and not that barmaid; and you, Quiller, keep that nasty mouth of yours shut or I’ll shut it for you, and you won’t like that!”

  Quiller picked up his kepi and grinned, pleased he’d baited Billy again. Billy scowled, picked up his hat and gun, and sulked off up front. Case tutted, shook his head and followed, grumbling.

  They reported back to camp and the news spread fast that Yankee were preparing to cross, and some reinforcements were posted to the town, but Case and his squad were detailed to patrol once more the following morning in the same place, to shadow any possible movements the enemy might make south of the town. It was still dark when Munz shook Case awake. “Sarge. Get up.”

  “What is it?” Case asked testily, fed up with the uncomfortable surroundings. He’d be glad once they were forgiv
en and could return to their platoons.

  “Billy’s gone. Llewellyn said he saw him going off in the direction of the town, thinks he’s gone for Rosie.”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake!” Case exploded. “Get the boys ready, we’ll have to bring that fool boy back or we’re all in trouble!”

  And just then the shooting started.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The six men ducked as another shell screamed overhead to smash into one of the riverfront warehouses, exploding in a huge flash of fire. Planks splintered and cartwheeled out from the impact and fragments showered down on the cowering men.

  “When I get my hands on that stupid boy I’ll make him useless for that girl!” Llewellyn promised, teeth clenched.

  “Not if I get to him first,” Dunkley replied, looking up anxiously at the batteries on the other side of the river. They had followed the railway into town, getting there after dawn, and the rifle fire had intensified. It had seemed to be coming from the river area and the group had paused outside the depot where they had left the railroad. Straight down towards the river they had seen a pontoon bridge half built, and Confederate sharpshooters blasting away at the Union engineers. Bodies littered the bridge and it was clear they had stopped the enemy progress.

  That was when the artillery had opened up, smashing up the buildings the sharpshooters were using to keep the engineers away from crossing the river. Now it was only a matter of time before the bridge was built. A few Mississippians had scurried past, some wounded, and they had informed Case that a further pontoon bridge, a much bigger one, was almost completed further north close to the town edge. That was close to where the Rising Sun was.

  The tavern was on the intersection of Caroline and Farquier Streets, and after leaving the depot they found that they were on Caroline Street. Case led them on a jog-trot as far as William Street, perhaps halfway there, when the shells began landing close to them. They now had to move slowly, and the sound of shooting intensified. Rebel soldiers could be seen on the corners of intersections, waiting with rifles and muskets, grimacing whenever a shell landed nearby. A few bodies lay where rubble was strewn about, and a few fires were beginning to build.

  “Heck, I hope we don’t get to the Rising Sun only to find it a mess,” Siddeley commented.

  “So do I, Joe,” Case muttered, worried as hell Billy would be lying under tons of rubble. Some civilians were fleeing, their belongings in bags, fear written all over them. Case cursed. They would get in the way. “C’mon, let’s go!”

  He led them across the street and along Caroline Street to the next junction, marked by broken planks and scattered stones. A shell had made a direct hit the house on the corner. The men could see inside the house. Nobody was home. A smashed table lay in a heap and the single window was gaping open, the glass in fragments over the floor. Siddeley swore. “Those Yankees are going to pay for this!”

  “Later,” Case said, peering round the corner. Down the street towards the river the smoke from the burning warehouses obscured the view of the river, and they could smell it as the black mist drifted up and spread. Warehouses were always seemingly full of combustibles, and they were going up like a bonfire.

  Ahead and to the right the firing intensified. Now the shelling ceased. Dunkley puffed out his cheeks. “Heck, that’s a relief!”

  “No it isn’t,” Case growled. “That means Yankee has gotten to this side of the river and they don’t want to hit their own men. Now we’ll have to hurry!”

  Fear pushed them on and they sprinted in a loose group, spread out across the empty street, avoiding the few loose stones that lay in their path. The next junction was the one they wanted, and the tavern stood on the slope on the right hand side of Farquier Street as it went down. It was untouched, thankfully. The verandah on the street side was littered with a few pieces of debris but nothing had hit it directly. What caught Case’s attention were the men running up the street, looking back.

  “Get going!” the grey-clad sergeant with them shouted, Yankee’s a-comin’!”

  “That’s all we need,” Case snapped. “Siddeley, Munz, use the verandah as cover. Dunkley, Llewellyn, the other side of the street. Quiller, the corner back there. Use staggered shooting, don’t all fire at once.”

  “Where you gonna be?” Dunkley demanded, scuttling sideways across the street.

  “Getting that love-struck idiot, that’s what!”

  Case crashed through the door, not caring if it was locked, which luckily for the door it wasn’t. The main tavern was empty, but Case could hear voices from out the back and he ran through to the passage beyond the bar and up the stairs in the direction of the voices. He recognized Billy’s, arguing with Rosie. He wrenched open the door that the voices were coming from behind and took one look at the scene before grabbing Billy. “Out, now!”

  “Sarge!” Billy squealed before he was pulled off his feet and sent through the air to land in an untidy heap on the landing. Rosie’s mouth opened in a perfect ‘O’ and Case grabbed Billy’s gun that was propped against a cupboard. “You must be one hell of a woman,” Case remarked to her as he turned to leave. He heard a gasp as he loomed over Billy. “Now, you brainless stupid kid, rejoin your buddies before I select a window for you to exit this place by.”

  Billy got to his feet and caught the gun in a reflex action as it was tossed to him. “But…”

  “You arguing? Want to be put in a prison for desertion? That way you get to survive the war. But no more Rosie. You want that?” Case thrust his unshaven jaw into Billy’s face. “You’ve never really seen me mad at you, but I’m just about as mad as I can get right now. You want to see me take this damned place apart and whack your ass with it? Start thinking with your head and not your dick. Leave that girl alone until you’ve beaten the big bad Yankee or you’ll have the bigger badder Sergeant Lonnergan to deal with. Move, Private!”

  “Don’t shout at him,” Rosie said heatedly from the doorway. Case whirled round. “Now you shut up! You may have put him under a spell with your body but it don’t cut any with me. He’s coming with me and there ain’t anything you can do to stop it. The Yankees are coming up that street outside and we’re going now.”

  Rosie pressed her lips together, red spots flushing her cheeks. “I told him to go, he don’t want to leave me here with them.”

  “They won’t hurt you,” Case said, dragging Billy along the landing. Outside the first shots came. Billy started gibbering about Rosie so Case landed a meaty fist on his ear. Billy sagged, yelping. Case landed a second. “Now, Brady, get outside and help your pals who are fighting for their lives!” He sent the whining boy on his way with a foot on his behind. Rosie screamed in protest but Case ignored her. Women! He chased Billy down the stairs, roaring vile threats against the young soldier, and through the tavern bar room to the verandah.

  Munz was by the doorway, aiming down the street. He fired just as the two emerged. Case took one look at the situation and cocked the hammer on his firearm. A line of skirmishing Union troops were about fifty yards down, scattered across the street, some lying behind cover, some scuttling from side to side. Two lay motionless in the street. Beyond them, further down, a bigger group of soldiers could be seen advancing, obviously the main group of Federal troops. “Load up and start shooting” Case snapped to Billy. “Munz, start leapfrogging the boys backwards. Cover each other, two by two.”

  “Yup,” Munz acknowledged and jerked his head at Billy. “You gonna be with me, kid. You mess up I’ll shoot you dead. Got it?”

  “Yes, Corporal,” Billy nodded, red welts appearing on his face. The defiance in him had been knocked out and he automatically loaded, kneeling as Munz stepped backwards.

  Case placed a percussion cap and leveled his gun before picking out the Yankee officer, who was directing the skirmishers under him to move up in two parallel lines. Shoot the officers first, then the sergeants. The man had a bright shiny sword which he was directing his men forward, using a water butt as cover. Case
sighted down the barrel, aiming a fraction above the barrel surface. He held his breath and squeezed the trigger. The gun bucked into his shoulder, sending a bullet spinning down the street, smashing into the officer’s chest, bursting into the right lung and sending blood spraying out of the wound. He fell backwards, the sword clattering onto the street. Case grunted in satisfaction, reaching for a new cartridge. “Siddeley, team up with Quiller back at the junction. Move!”

  Siddeley ran at a crouch and skidded to a halt alongside Quiller who was aiming ready for a new shot. On the other side of the street Llewellyn was reloading as Dunkley backed away, watching as the Yankee squad inched closer. He knelt as Llewellyn got to his feet and waited as the flame-haired man nipped past him. Case turned his attention to his next move. The verandah was a trap; remaining there was a definite no-hoper. He jumped down to the street and ducked involuntarily as a shot from an enemy soldier passed close by. Damn that was close!

  The retreating Mississippian troops were ready on the other side of the junction and waiting for Case and his men to get out of the way. More Union troops were appearing and shooting up at the small group. Munz and Billy got to the corner and gave Siddeley and Quiller covering fire as they began retreating. The Federal forces gathered and began forming a large three sided square, intent on sweeping aside all opposition. More shots flew at them and Quiller cried out, clutching his side, twisting as he fell.

  “Siddeley, help him! Munz, Brady, cover them!” Case reloaded as he backed towards the junction. He pressed the bullet down the barrel muzzle and rammed it home as he went, his eyes scanning the approaching formation of enemy soldiers. No pocket of air must remain down the barrel by the bullet; it would cause an explosion. He picked out a sergeant, a big-chested man with a full beard. As Llewellyn and Dunkley came running across the street to join the others, Case drew a bead on his target and fired. The sergeant clutched his chest and fell into the arms of a colleague, bringing him down as well. Case scuttled round the corner and waved his men along Caroline Street. “To the next junction and then up!”