Words Heard In Silence / Xena Uber

by T. Novan

  Dewees scurried from the tent on his way to do the onerous duty Charlie had assigned him, and then to talk to his men about being too eager.

  Jocko and Richard entered together. Charlie sighed and put aside his barely begun letter home.

  "Yes, gentlemen?"

  Richard spoke first. "How shall I order the men, Charlie? Do we march tomorrow?"

  "I do not have Sheridan’s orders yet, but I suspect we do. This has all the earmarks of a running battle."

  "All right. I will order fast rations, have them get what sleep they can and be ready to move at dawn."

  Charlie nodded, tired and distracted with thoughts of what the next few days might bring. It was only going to get worse. Richard hurried out to see to the men.

  Jocko spoke up. "A courier just arrived from Sheridan’s command. He requests your presence in a half hour. I grabbed some bread and ham for you, and have a fresh horse ready."

  Charlie sighed, slumped in his chair and closed his eyes. He had gotten less than two hours of sleep the night before; it looked as though tonight would be no better. "If you have a fresh horse, I assume that Jack is still lame."

  "Yes, I am afraid so. He is doing better, but I would not ask him to carry you yet."

  "Well, give him a carrot and a pet for me. I will be back whenever I can get back. Is Duncan ready to ride with me?"

  "Waiting outside the tent. Charlie, do you need……"

  "I need this war to be over. I need to be home. I need some sleep. But you cannot give me any of those things, old friend. Keep the lamp burning; I am going to need some rest before we march tomorrow."

  --*--

  Friday, April 7, 1865

  Charlie rose before dawn, having gotten to bed sometime around midnight. He knew that the day would be hard. Sheridan had ordered the two cavalry forces –– his and Custer’s –– to ride south and west, circumventing the main body of Lee’s forces, to take and hold the rail line from Roanoke to Appomattox. There was one objective –– to prevent Lee from receiving his supplies and thereby stop him from getting to North Carolina.

  Richard and Charlie met over the early morning coffee pot. It was so early that the only light was from the low burning fires and a few torches. False dawn had yet to light the sky.

  "So, Charlie, where do we go today?"

  "We ride at dawn for the western part of Appomattox County –– some place called Appomattox Station. We are back on railroad detail –– and damn it, this time that glory hound Custer is in command."

  "Custer? My God, Charlie –– that man is plain dangerous."

  "I know. I spent a good bit of last night listening to him complain about how his boys missed out on the action since he simply flanked Ewell’s forces and we had to face Gordon head on."

  Richard thought for a moment. "You know, Charlie, I have always wondered about something."

  "Yes?"

  "You have more experience than he does and to be honest, more success in the field. Yet he has climbed the ladder more quickly than you. Why did you avoid the politics?"

  Charlie took a long drink from his coffee mug, regarding his old friend and wondering if Richard had started to become suspicious about Charlie’s secret. "I am just a soldier, up from the ranks. You know as well as I do just how nasty the politics are, Richard, so I just did my job, kept my head down and stayed out of the games that McClellan and Custer and those fellows play. Taking care of my men is enough for me."

  Richard slapped Charlie on the shoulder. "And you do a damned fine job. I have learned more from you than from any other officer in the Army, I believe. Now, what is on for today?"

  "We need to move quickly. Assign one of the companies to stay behind to escort the supplies and wounded; they must follow us as quickly as they can. Oh, hell. Since most of the wounded are Dewees’, assign him. Have Raiford be temporarily assigned to Company A. He does not deserve to lose his position as color bearer just because Dewees was an ass."

  "Good idea. And Swallow at least knows what he is doing."

  "We move at dawn. Let us get to it."

  --*--

  They rode hard for most of the day. It would not have taken so long, but for two distinct challenges. The first was the need to move around the main body of Lee’s forces and get ahead of them. Lee’s infantry and artillery slowed the progress of his forces of around thirty thousand men, but they still covered a good bit of territory. The second was a more difficult problem. Men were deserting from the Confederate forces by the score –– they simply left their companies and started walking home. Charlie and his men kept running into bunches of these dispirited souls on the back roads they were traveling. The first few times, things were tense. But Charlie and his men quickly realized the deserters presented no real threat.

  The third bunch of ragged men they came across was trying to roast a couple of skinny rabbits they had caught. Charlie looked at these half starved, exhausted souls and immediately ordered Duncan to find them a ham and some bread.

  They rode on, and by around three o’clock, reached a little train station in the middle of nowhere.

  Charlie met with Custer while the men set up a makeshift overnight camp.

  "Well, Redmond. If we are fortunate, we will see some action tomorrow."

  "General, if we are fortunate, we will manage a surrender tomorrow. The less bloodshed, the better."

  "Oh, Redmond, where is your sporting sense? Oh, yes, some men might get hurt, but that is part of the risk of war. You might say, the price of glory."

  "General Custer, you and I have a different perception of the glory, as you call it, of battle. Particularly battle against men I have known for twenty years, whom I fought beside in Mexico, and who I now see as tired, dispirited, and hungry. General, they are already defeated. We now have only to complete the inevitable with as much dignity and honor as possible."

  "Well, sir, I can see your point of view. I still want to write my name on at least one more battle in this conflict. Therefore, tomorrow, my brigade will take the lead. We will set the forward scouts, with the objective of taking, and if necessary destroying, any supply trains intended to relieve the rebels. You will serve as our reserves, and as defense against any effort by Lee’s vanguard from the east."

  "Yes, Sir. My men will provide as much support as you require. Sergeant Nailer, who you have already met, will serve as my personal courier."

  The two men examined the maps and scouting reports and determined details of deployment for the following day. Charlie then returned to camp, decidedly disturbed at Custer’s attitude, but grateful that he might actually be able to get some sleep that night.

  --*--

  Charlie established camp in a protected site halfway between the isolated train station and the nearby town of Appomattox Courthouse. It had an area, sheltered from northern winds by a low rise of hills, which was ideal for Elizabeth’s medical staff, and was on high ground that could be easily defended from raiders. Around sundown, Elizabeth, escorted by Company D, arrived at the camp. The more severely wounded had been transferred to the main hospital facilities within Grant’s army; only the walking wounded traveled with the contingent. Charlie rode to meet them.

  "Well, Dewees, how was the trip here?"

  "Uneventful, sir. We received orders from General Merritt to let the rebel deserters go their way, though we passed several groups of them."

  "And the injured? Did they make the trip well?"

  "You will have to ask Dr. Walker, Sir. I have not checked on them recently."

  "Then you shall come with me and do so now, sir. Your first duty as an officer is to tend to the care of your men."

  "Yes, sir." Dewees hung his head. Clearly, the qualities of leadership he had learned from Montgomery were not up to the standards of this career officer. He wondered what else he had done wrong.

  --*--

  That evening, Charlie and Richard met to go over the plans for the next day. They split the force, putting Richard and half the
men facing back to the east to guard against any surprise by Lee’s vanguard. The other half were ranged to the west, to support Custer in the event he had problems with the escorts for the expected supply trains.

  Having briefed each company commander on his duties for the following day, Charlie finally managed to get to bed at a reasonable hour. He literally dropped into bed like a sack of flour and fell into a deep sleep. The past few days had taken their toll. Rebecca’s letter, started two days earlier, would just have to wait another day.

  --*--

  Saturday, April 8, 1865

  The ground was soft; it had rained the night before. Charlie’s mount, one of the reserve horses, was not as sure footed as Jack. Before the sun was high, Charlie thought his tailbone was going to crack.

  It was quiet for much of the morning. They rode circuits up and down the rail line, looking for any sign of a train, not expecting anything as Custer’s men were ahead of them further down the line.

  Just before lunchtime, a messenger came riding in from Custer’s command post. "Move up, we have a major problem."

  Charlie signaled Duncan, who had learned the basic bugle calls, to signal the men to move forward at all speed. As they rode, Charlie asked the courier what the problem was.

  "They have guns, sir. No infantry that we can see, but howitzers to guard the train. They have General Custer’s men pinned down."

  Charlie rode up to where Custer and his officers were huddled behind a rise, discussing the problem. It was artillery against cavalry –– a situation that no one had ever faced before.

  "The 13th reporting, Sir." Charlie rode up to the group of officers milling around Custer.

  "How many men do you have riding with you, General?" Custer looked almost gleeful. He had a battle on his hands.

  "I have about five hundred mounted, sir. The other half of the regiment is providing protection against an attack from the main body of the Lee’s forces."

  Custer stroked his little goatee. "That should be enough. This is what I want, Redmond. I will use the main body of my troops to hold their attention. I want your men to flank them and press them up against the rail lines. If you can get behind them before they can turn the guns, it should be fairly simple. We have word that General Walker is commanding. He does not have a history of being able to respond rapidly."

  Charlie slipped up to the top of the hill to survey the situation. A supply train was stopped on the tracks, with light artillery on either side serving as escort. To the far right, there was a line of trees, with about five hundred feet of clear pasture on a slight uphill slope. Charlie looked very carefully. If he could get behind the trees without being detected, he had a chance of coming up behind the artillery. On the other hand, if his troopers were detected too early, and one or more of the guns could be turned, there would be a bloodbath. Fortunately, since half the guns were deployed on the other side of the train, it might not be too difficult if Custer could keep the gunners occupied while they got in position.

  He returned to the cluster of officers. "Yes, Sir. Give us about a half an hour to get into position."

  The conference with his company officers was tense and terse. Each trooper dismounted and carefully wrapped his horse’s hooves to help keep them silent. The men slipped behind the tree line, a few at a time.

  It looked good. But as they broke from the woods to charge the Confederate’s flank, the end gunner swung his howitzer around and let loose with a round of deadly canister shot. Even though the shot was undirected, the effect was devastating, spraying a rain of Minnie balls into Charlie’s charging troops.

  The blast kicked up a fountain of dirt, mixing fragments of the canister casing, the balls inside the casing and a cloud of rock pieces and dirt up into the faces of the charging men.

  Charlie saw Raiford and the flag go down. Young Lieutenant Swallow snatched the banner up and the men charged forward. An instant later, Charlie’s horse stumbled and fell, a ball embedded in his chest. Charlie grabbed a stray horse, not knowing if the rider had fallen to the shot or if he had just been unseated when the horse shied from the flying debris. It did not matter at that moment.

  Charlie’s men charged on. Another gunner started to swing around and train his muzzle on the charging 13th. Then, finally, Charlie heard Custer’s men sound the charge. Cavalry came crashing into the jaws of the artillery barrage from two sides. From the calm that had reigned no more than five minutes earlier, the world had become total mayhem.

  As the 13th closed on the artillery emplacement, many of the men jumped from their horses to engage the rebel gunners hand to hand. Horses milled, men fought with saber and side arm. Charlie, followed closely by Duncan, rode into the midst of the turmoil. With sword in hand, Charlie started to cut a path to the command position, close to the train’s engine. He thought all of the guns were incapacitated, for, having fired their loaded round, the gunners would not be able to reload once they were engaged in hand to hand combat.

  He was wrong.

  One gunnery team still had a loaded howitzer. The charge hit to Charlie’s right, a shattering blast. Men from both sides went down. Charlie felt fire and flame tear through his right arm, his leg, and his hand. The horse fell, dead in his tracks. That sense of falling was the last thing Charlie felt. In that instant, knowing he was dying, he cried out, "Rebecca!"

  Duncan heard Charlie cry out. The Sergeant had taken a ball in his arm, his horse had fallen, but he was still on his feet.

  "General? General Charlie! Oh, my God!"

  --*--

  Jocko had stayed with the support staff, as was his normal position. He was coordinating the movement of reserve horses and the medical support team. Jack was healing, so Jocko chose to ride him and give him a light workout. He had just finished checking on Elizabeth and was turning away when Jack bolted.

  Jocko hung on. No horse was going to get the better of him, even General Charlie’s blasted pig-headed stallion. Ten minutes of hard galloping later, Jocko had passed Custer’s emplacement and been dragged through a small stand of trees. The scene in front of him horrified him.

  There was Duncan, on his knees, blood pouring down one arm, trying to staunch the flow of blood from what looked like Charlie’s entire right side. The General was soaked in blood and a small pool was gathering under him. His face was sheet white, and he was clearly unconscious.

  Jocko pulled his coat and shirt off, ripping them to use them as bandages. He pulled Duncan up by the collar of his coat. "Go. Take Jack. Get Dr. Walker and a medic crew here immediately."

  Duncan nodded, unable to speak for the tears running down his cheeks, and leapt on the waiting horse.

  Very gently, Jocko checked Charlie’s wounds. It was bad, very bad. His shoulder was ripped up, half his hand had been torn off, and several chunks were gone from his buttock and thigh. The worst was a gaping wound, almost as wide as Jocko’s hand, in the heavy muscles of his thigh. It looked like most of the blood was from the hand and the thigh wound. Jocko packed his shirt in the thigh and used the sleeve of his jacket to tie it off, trying to slow the flow of blood. He removed his belt and tied off Charlie’s wrist with a makeshift tourniquet. The shoulder would just have to wait. It was seeping, but not gushing like the leg would. Then he waited.

  --*--

  The makeshift camp was roaring with activity. Dr Walker had issued orders before leaving that made a lot of the men feel like she was a fully commissioned officer. The orders were simple. Get a tent raised for General Redmond and make sure it was outfitted with a warm bed, a stove and lanterns. And not a word of his injuries was to leave the camp –– especially not to Rebecca - until Elizabeth gave approval.

  The men did her bidding without question. They knew General Redmond was hurt, they just did not know how badly. They watched as their commander was brought back into camp on a stretcher. Jocko and Samuelson carefully carried the litter with Whitman and Dr Walker half walking, half running ahead of them into his tent.

  Somber
looks were traded as the men silently wondered when Dr. Walker would come tell them that General Redmond had succumbed to his injuries.

  Inside the tent, Elizabeth tossed her cloak off and quickly began washing her hands. "All right. Jocko, post a guard on this tent. No one, and I mean no one gets in here until after I have treated him."

  "Right away, Doctor." Jocko gave one last look at his friend and then left the tent.

  Elizabeth dried her hands and nodded to Whitman and Samuelson, "Get him out of that uniform. And prepare him for surgery."

  She looked down at her friend, more dead than alive, and for the first time in a very long time, Dr. Elizabeth Walker felt sick. She found an apron in the pile of supplies and draped it over her neck as Whitman cut Charlie out of the tattered remnants of his uniform and Samuelson prepared all the equipment the doctor would need.

  Elizabeth leaned over, taking a wet cloth to remove the blood spatter from Charlie’s face. "Listen to me, you stubborn bastard. Charlie Redmond is not a quitter. You have never run from anything in all the years I have known you. You need not start now. I do not want to have to go face Rebecca with the news you have died."

  She looked at the wounds as best she could without removing the packing that was keeping Charlie from bleeding to death. She had just started removing the bandages against his hip and leg when Jocko came back into the tent.