by J. R. Ayers
“I could learn them, right?” The priest leaned back in his chair and looked at Jack for a long time. Finally he said,
“You don’t really want to convert to Catholicism, Jack. But you do need someone to talk to. Tell you what, we’ll find a private place somewhere and you can tell me what’s on your mind. Just let me know when and where.”
The where tuned out to be a diner about two hundred yards from the camp. The when was an hour after Taps. They sat at a little rickety table in the back drinking coffee. “So what is it that’s bothering you, my friend?” the priest asked.
“It’s sort of personal.”
“I’m a priest. Personal is what I do.”
“Nurse Hayes.”
“Yes?”
“We, uh, we were intimate during our time together in Corpus Christi.”
“Well, since you were not married, that would be considered fornication, which is a forgivable sin.”
“And she became pregnant.”
“Oh, that complicates things.”
“And. . .and, she destroyed the child.”. The priest remained very still for a time his eyes on Jack’s.
“That is a terrible sin indeed,” he said a moment later. “Taking the life of an innocent is an abomination.”
“Can she be forgiven, Padre?”
“All sin save suicide is forgivable, Jack. But she is the one who sinned by killing the child. She will have to repent and ask for forgiveness for herself.”
“So, there’s nothing I can do to help? Maybe one of those ritual things you mentioned?”
“No, Jack. God the Father is interested in the heart, not ritual.”
“So why do you do all that ceremony, and wear all those robes?”
“Like I said, tradition. It helps build people’s faith, But I know God hears me whether I’m wearing my best priestly garments, or I’m lying on my face stark naked weeping over my sin.”
“Your sin?”
“You’d be surprised.”
“So, what am I going to do, Padre?”
“I know it sounds simplistic, my dear, Jack, but pray. Get on your face tonight and pray your heart out.”
Chapter 33
Jack did pray, and weep and prayed some more, crying out to God on behalf of Marie Hayes. He’d found a private spot down by the creek among the switch grass and water lilies and stretched out on the cool grass and begged a God he knew nothing about to forgive Marie and bring her to him so he could get her to the priest and have him pray her sins away. At first he felt silly when he prayed, but desperation gripped him like a cold hand and he prayed every religious word he could think of. The night was clear and the moon was large and yellow in the dark sky. It was a very pleasant night, made all the more so by a gentle southerly breeze. At the far end of the camp Chacon Creek gurgled away in the shadow of a stand of cottonwood trees. The water was dark and white-capped and flowed very swiftly toward the Rio Grande more than a mile away.
Jack lay down on the ground and looked up at the moon and tried not to think about anything sad. It was an impossible effort, though, there were so many sad thoughts to contemplate. He found himself missing his captain, though the man had never been anything more than his commanding officer. It was uncommon for officers and enlisted men to become friendly, but Jack had had a level of respect for Captain Ross like no other man he’d ever known, even his father who had died of a brain hemorrhage when Jack was ten years old. Jack knew virtually nothing about Ross’s background. He’d heard once that he hailed from Palo Pinto County and had been a circuit judge before the war. Other than that, the only thing Jack knew about him was that he was a dedicated officer with a fierce loyalty to the Confederacy.
He tried not to think about Marie Hayes, but the image of her standing in the shadow of the shop in Corpus Christi with the rain mingling with her tears just would not leave his mind. After hearing that she had aborted their child, he wanted to get far away from her and forget he’d ever met her. But he was finding that to be an impossible task. The sight of the priest had brought back all those memories he had managed to suppress since leaving Corpus Christi for Brownsville. He wanted to forget about Marie Hayes and the love they had shared, but he had no real hope that would happen. Feeling sad and frustrated and hollow, he returned to the tent and willed himself to go to sleep.
The next morning Jack was tired and his head hurt. Nevertheless he had morning drills to deal with, then work on the remuda to perform and weapons to clean and boots to shine. After all the work was completed he made his way to the mess tent for some bacon and flapjacks. The priest was there having coffee and chatting with some of the men. “Come join us, Corporal Saylor,” he said pushing a chair Jack’s way.
Jack sat and the priest poured coffee and Jack ate bacon and the men seated around the table chatted about the war and the weather and the quality of the food.
“You look tired, Jack,” the priest said. “Did you not sleep well?”
“Not at all?”
“Did you take my advice?”
“I did. Thus the reason for my troubled sleep.”
“The Lord has a way of troubling one’s sleep.”
“I was thinking it was the biscuits I ate yesterday.”
A private approached the table and informed the men that Colonel Ford was convening an urgent meeting by the armory. Jack followed the men across the bare muddy field and stood formation with the other members of his regiment. The Colonel took his place near the front of the assembly and called forward a young man with broad shoulders and eyes the same color as boot leather. “Gentleman,” the colonel said. “this is Lieutenant Burke Caldwell. He will be your new regimental commander.” The colonel removed a sheet of paper from his pocket, as well as a pair of captain’s bars and said, “By the authority granted to me by General McGruder, I’m promoting the lieutenant to the rank of captain effective immediately.” A few murmurs went through the ranks and a sergeant near the front called for quiet. Everyone fell silent and Colonel Ford said, “Corporal Saylor, come forward please.” Jack worked his way through the formation and stood at attention in front of the colonel staring straight ahead. “Soldier, you’re out of uniform,” Colonel Ford said curtly. Then he reached into his pocket and produced a pair of sergeant stripes. “Corporal Saylor, you are hereby promoted to the rank of Sergeant First Class.” A muted cheer rose up and the colonel shook Jack’s hand and the newly promoted captain shook his hand and Jack looked down in amazement at the yellow chevrons in his hand.
Later at mess Jack sat at a table wearing his new stripes. The men of his regiment took turns congratulating him and a private named Doyle said, “Guess you’ll be moving out of our tent now. NCO’s have much nicer quarters over by the provost office.”
“You’re sitting at the wrong table,” another man said. “You’re supposed to be over there with the big shots.”
“You’ll be getting your own squad and leading drills from now on too,” Doyle said with a half grin.
Jack was a little overwhelmed by all the attention. He certainly hadn’t expected to be promoted to sergeant and he had some serious doubt that he could live up to the responsibility. The priest was delighted by the news, however. “They picked the right man,” he said shaking Jack’s hand.
“Sorry, Padre, I just don’t see it.”
“The way you risked your life to see Corporal Campbell rescued is reason enough to promote you,” the priest said.
“That’s nothing to crow about. I’d have done the same thing for him.”
“You’re a hero, Jack. And now a sergeant. Just be grateful for the blessing.”
“Blessing?”
“All good things come from God.”
“There you go again, speaking of God as if he cared anything for a rogue like me.”
“He cares for all souls, Jack.”
“I don’t know anything about souls, Padre.”
“But God does.”
“What makes you believe with such certaint
y?” The priest smiled and turned his coffee mug with his fingers.
“I always thought I would become more devout as I grew a little older, but I haven’t,” he said. “I often wonder about things. I often question.”
“So why do you keep doing it?”
“Because of the people. They need. . .this.” He touched the rosary hanging around his neck.
“So you’re saying they’re willing to stake their after life on a string of beads?”
“No. These accouterments are simply objects of one’s faith. Wouldn’t you like to live on after death, Jack?”
“I guess it would depend on what that would be like. This life hasn’t been all that pleasant so far. But when I do die, I’d prefer to be very old.”
“And wiser?”
Jack smiled and shook his head. “No, in my experience it’s a great myth this theory of the inherent wisdom of old men. I don’t think they grow any wiser, I think they just grow more careful.”
“Aw, profound insight from such a young man.”
“How old are you, Padre? You look very young.”
“That’s just good breeding. I’ll be thirty-two in three months.”
“Plenty old enough to be wise,” Jack said.
“Or demoralized, maybe. Tell me, Jack, what do you value the most?”
“I don’t know. Love maybe.”
“Do you value life?”
“Of course.”
“So do I. Because it is all I have to give to God. His Son gave His life for me, so I in turn give mine to Him.”
“I admire that in you, Padre, I really do,” Jack said.
“It’s not an admirable thing.”
“Sure it is. Most men would never voluntarily give up the chance to be with a woman for the rest of their lives.”
“Oh, Jack, my fine friend, there is so much more to what I do than abstaining from women. And just when I was speaking well of your youthful wisdom.” He laughed softly and stood to his feet. “See you at Mass this evening?”
“Not a good idea,” Jack said shaking his head. “Don’t want to soil the air inside the church.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Jack, you have not yet cornered the market on sin.”
After he’d gone Jack sat for awhile with his cold coffee and contemplated the conversation he’d just had with the priest. The man’s dedication to his calling was something Jack had a hard time understanding. He understood how a man could be devoted to his Country or his home town or even his family, but giving up one’s very existence in service to a God that no man can see was a concept that Jack could not understand. He left the mess tent deciding that he would not spend much time trying to figure it all out.
That night there was a storm and Jack woke in his new NCO quarters to hear the rain drumming against the window glass. At first he was disoriented and for a moment he had no idea where he was. Three other men slept in beds spaced around the simple plank structure. A pot-bellied stove stood in the middle of the dark room flanked on both sides by stacks of kindling wood. It was all new to Jack and he found himself wishing for the familiar surroundings of his quarters back in Brownsville.
It was someone knocking on the door and not the rain that had woke him. One of the other men answered the knock. It was a private from Colonel Ford’s command. The young man looked very tense and focused. Rain water dripped from his kepie onto the stoop outside the door. “Captain Caldwell wants to see all of you in his quarters,” he said curtly.
“What’s wrong?” the sergeant who had answered the door asked.
“I don’t know, sir, but he said it was urgent.”
The four sergeants got dressed and followed the private through the dark wet night to the officer’s quarters located on the other side of the drill field. Captain Caldwell met them at the door to his quarters and invited them inside. The room was crowded with officers and NCO’s, including Colonel Ford. “Gentlemen,” he said. “We need to muster the troops. I’ve just received word that a sizable Union force is heading up this way from Brownsville. We think their intentions are to destroy the tobacco and cotton stores located by the plaza. Our job is simple; we’re to stop those sons-of-bitches at all cost.” Jack felt a familiar dread take root in his gut and then he looked down at his brand new sergeant’s stripes and thought, bring the blue bastards on.
Chapter 34
Subsequent scouting missions did indeed confirm that a force of nearly two hundred Union Calvary was on the move heading northward toward Laredo. Colonel Ford canceled all leaves, furloughs, and day passes and split his forces into two squads. The main force took up a position near San Augustin Plaza where the bulk of the cotton destined for sale to the Mexicans was stored. The other squad spread out along Zacate creek prepared to defend the road if the Union forces decided to come that way instead of approaching via the main thoroughfare.
The rain had stopped but the wind came occasionally in brief gusts that drove the dry leaves across the camp like scraps of confetti paper. It was very dark, and the north wind was chill and the moon was only a pale suggestion behind thick billowing clouds. Jack, along with men from Captain Caldwell’s forces, positioned themselves in the trees by the creek. He could see the swift water reflecting the lantern lights and camp fires of the town in the distance. Beyond the town more than a mile away the Rio Grande flowed southward, an undulating ribbon of silver barely visible beneath the dark brooding sky.
The anticipated advance came quickly and almost silently; only the creaking of saddle leather, the clomp-clomp of shod hooves and the jingle of horse bridles announced the approach of the Yankees. Someone in front of Jack fired a shot. And then another man fired his weapon and almost immediately the air was filled with lead and flashes of light and puffs of black smoke and the screams of dying horses and the curses of wounded and dying men. Jack moved from tree to tree firing his carbine into the breast of a blue-coated soldier before quickly reloading and firing again. He could hear shouting somewhere behind him. It was Colonel Ford’s regiment riding down from the Plaza attempting to flank the Union position. The Union Calvary was trapped on the road unable to advance through the withering fire from Caldwell’s troops positioned in front of them and Ford’s advancing Calvary to their right. Jack and his men kept up a steady barrage of fire as Colonel Ford’s men engaged the Yankees from the east flank and began mowing down the Union soldiers like sheaves of grain. Within minutes retreat was sounded and the Union Calvary turned their horses and beat a hasty retreat down the road heading back toward Brownsville.
Jack’s first thought was to check on the men recently assigned to his watch. He found them all alive, but Private Doyle had suffered a nasty wound to his right elbow. All in all three men from Captain Caldwell’s command had been killed and six wounded; two severely. The Yankee casualties were at least three times that amount.
As soon as the smoke settled Colonel Ford sent a contingent of men to pursue the fleeing Yankees before they retreated too far from town. His intent was to take as many prisoners as possible in hopes of thinning their ranks in case they had designs on launching another attack.
After first conversing with Captain Caldwell, Jack went over to the hospital to check on Private Doyle and to see how Carl Campbell was doing. Doyle would lose the injured arm, and no doubt his self respect. His time in the Army, though brief, was now over, as well as the means to make a decent living for himself. He’d survived the perils of combat, but he now faced a battle of another nature; how to do something productive with his life minus his strong right arm.
Campbell’s leg wound was on the mend but he still spent most of his time in bed where he read the local newspaper and flirted with the nursing staff telling them repeatedly that they should go on a train ride with him when he was back on his feet. Jack found him propped up on a pillow watching the surgeons working on the recently wounded. “How you doing, Carl?”
“Better. How’d it go this morning?”
“We chased their asses back toward
Brownsville.”
“You alright?”
“Yep.” Campbell’s eyes dropped to Jack’s sleeve.
“Should I get up and salute you?” he asked with a grin.
“Not yet. When I make lieutenant maybe.”
“Seriously, I’m happy for you, Jack. I mean, Sergeant Saylor.”
Nurse Mason came into the ward and Campbell waved her over to his bed side. “Jack’s been promoted,” he said proudly.
“I see that. Congratulations, Sergeant Saylor.”
“Thank you, Nurse Mason.”
“I have more news, if you’re interested.”
“Only if it’s good news. I’ve had enough of the bad lately.”
“Marie Hayes is on her way here to Laredo. She should arrive on the morning train, if it makes it through all this fighting that is.” Her words hit Jack like a closed fist. Marie, coming to Laredo?
“But, why?” he asked.
“The same reason all of us move around. They send us to where we are most needed at the time.”
“But why Laredo?” She tipped her head toward the front of the hospital.
“I believe a battle has just concluded down the thoroughfare yonder. There will be others, I’m guessing.”
“Yes, ma’am I’m sure there will be. Al least until we blow those damn blue bastards right out of the state of Texas. Pardon my coarse language.”
“Like I said, Cor, uh, Sergeant Saylor, we go where we are needed. Right now we’re needed in Laredo. Now please excuse me, I have sick men to see to.”
She went to assist the surgeon and Jack said goodbye to Corporal Campbell and left the hospital to report to his captain. There was considerable concern among the command structure that the Union forces would continue to launch attacks from their base of operation outside Brownsville. Colonel Ford was keeping in close contact with General McGruder, the officer in charge of all military operations in the southwest quadrant. “He thinks we should redeploy back to Brownsville,” the colonel was saying to his assembled staff. “When we pulled out of there, the thinking was the Yankees would abandon their siege and move their forces northeast to Galveston. But, as we now know, that didn’t happen. So the general is sending down a division from Corsicana to join up with us and we’re moving south to reclaim Brownsville and points in and around the Rio Grande south of here. I just received word through a courier that Colonel Evans and his Calvary will be here tomorrow morning. We’ll be deploying the next day, so get your men ready and prepare for a prolonged campaign. It’s time we liberated this part of Texas from those invading bastards once and for all.”