by Edward Gates
14
Repairs
Charlie found the pencil that was in his haversack and picked up a piece of wood from one of the broken wagons. He walked the entire field taking inventory of the equipment and assessing the condition of each one. As he strolled among the graveyard of damaged artillery and war wagons, the memories of the battle of Cedar Mountain that he had witnessed only a couple of months ago came rushing back. He remembered watching cannons like these expel death and destruction every minute or so. It was a frightening experience that stuck in his mind. The barbaric, brutal ways men devised to kill each other and cause ruin was overwhelming. He ran his hand over the cold brass barrel and thought of Gwen Hawkins’s husband being on the receiving end of one of these.
The task took him all morning. The clouds that shrouded the encampment began to part and streaks of sunshine and blue sky appeared. As he finished his tally, he walked back toward the top of the rise where he saw four soldiers watching him. When he reached them, one soldier handed Charlie a tin plate and cup.
“Colonel sent us to help ya. This here’s your lunch.”
The plate had a chunk of bread and beans with some sort of meat in it. He smelled it. It didn’t smell bad so he figured it was safe to eat. The cup held lukewarm coffee.
“Did he tell you what you were supposed to help me with?”
“No, sir. He just said to help you.”
“What do you boys do here?” Charlie asked.
“Us three is infantry,” the one soldier said, indicating himself and the two soldiers to his right. “That fella there’s artillery.”
Charlie was struck by how young these boys appeared. “Just out of curiosity, how old are all of you?” They didn’t answer. “It’s all right. I’m not in the army. I won’t tell anyone.”
The spokesman said, “Well, I’m eighteen and my brother here is only sixteen. He lied so’s he could join up with me.”
Charlie nodded. “How about you, artillery?”
The soldier looked at the other boys, then announced that he was seventeen. The one soldier laughed. “No you ain’t, neither. He’s fifteen.” He laughed again. “When he fired his rifle it knocked him on his backside so they put him in artillery.” They all laughed, including Charlie. The fourth soldier didn’t answer, but it was obvious to Charlie that he was the youngest of the group. He was appalled at the thought of these young boys going into battle.
He looked at the artillery soldier. “Since you know about this equipment, you’re in charge. I want you to take these three infantry boys and separate the limbers in one area over there by that tree and move the caissons in another area just down from them. If they’re too damaged to move, leave them, we’ll use them for parts. We’ll get to the cannons later.” The soldier nodded and the four started out to the field. Charlie sat on the grass and watched his team work while he ate his lunch.
Charlie went through the caissons and assembled the equipment he needed to set up a forge. Then he joined the soldiers moving the equipment around. By late afternoon the sky had completely cleared and they had moved all the wagons that could be repaired into staging areas. Charlie saw Colonel Carr approaching.
“Looks like you made some progress,” the colonel said.
“Yeah. Thanks for the help, they worked out great. Can I have them every day?”
“If you need them, they’re yours.” The colonel looked out at the staging areas, then back at Charlie. “So tell me what you found.”
Charlie picked up his wood notes and cleared his throat. “Okay. You got eleven caissons that can be fixed. Four more are too damaged, so we’ll use them for parts. There are sixteen limbers that can be repaired and another six that are beyond repair -- again, we’ll use those for parts. There are six more wagons back there that I have no idea what they are. You told me to leave them, so I did.”
“What about the artillery? I need to know about the artillery,” the colonel interrupted.
“I was just getting to that. That’s the bad news, Colonel. There are twenty-three artillery pieces; only eleven have barrels that aren’t damaged. Those we can fix. We’ll repair the carriages, and fix the hooks, flanges and sleeves, and any other bent or damaged irons. The other twelve have broken or cracked tubes.”
Colonel Carr frowned. He stepped away and appeared to be deep in thought. “Only eleven? I was hoping for better news.” He turned back to Charlie. “Well, we’ll take what we can get. Can this all be done in ten days?”
Charlie sighed. That would be a lot of work. He thought about it a minute. “The limbers and caissons won’t be a problem. That’s mostly carpentry and minor metal work. With the help I got, we should be able to get those done in time. But I won’t be able to fix those cannons with just these four boys. Those things weigh too much to lift. We can’t move them.”
Colonel Carr laughed. “Is that all it is? I got a whole division right here that will be glad to help. You just tell me what you need.”
“I’ll need some sort of a rigging system to hoist those cannons so we can move and repair them.”
“Done. I’ll have a group here first light tomorrow.” The colonel turned to leave, then turned back. “Good job. Anybody else you need, let me know.” Then he walked away. Charlie smiled. He couldn’t remember the last time he received a compliment for his work. With his head a little higher and his shoulders back, he felt a surge of pride. He looked over the field and decided that for the first day, he did do a good job, like the colonel said. But the real work begins tomorrow.
It was dark by the time Charlie made it back to the boarding house. A faint light from the parlor seeped through the window and illuminated Max, who sat in a rocking chair on the front porch. Charlie plopped down on a wicker stool next to him and let out a sigh.
“You look tired, my young friend.”
Charlie took his hat off. “Yeah. And this was just the first day.”
“Did you eat yet?”
Charlie shook his head.
“Well, come on. I’ll buy you dinner at the café.” The two headed toward town. “So you’re working for the army, huh?”
Charlie was a little surprised. “How’d you know that?”
Max chuckled. “There’s less than three hundred people in this town. Everybody knows everything about everyone. Especially strangers.”
Charlie shook his head. “I didn’t have much choice, they sorta kidnapped me. They needed a blacksmith to help fix some of their equipment. I needed the money so it was a good fit. I’ll only be there for a week or so.”
The small canvas café was crowded. The benches that lined the two tables were filled with diners. Max and Charlie had to eat their stew standing at the counter. The stew was tart and gamey.
“What’s in this stew?” Charlie asked the lady serving it. She didn’t reply.
“It’s probably best that we don’t know what’s in it,” Max said.
Charlie listened wide-eyed as Max talked about his business and his travels. If he could drive freight wagons, he would be able to travel to many places without using the time belt. That would get the time-agents off his trail for good. They’d never be able to find him.
After supper the two walked back to the boarding house. Max returned to the rocker and Charlie again sat on the stool. They rested in silence for a moment, taking in the cool night air. Max pulled a long slim cigar from his breast pocket, bit the end off and lit it. His head became engulfed in a cloud of blue smoke. He waved the smoke away and looked at Charlie. “You know, it’s none of my business, but you might want to get rid of that holster before you go back out to the army camp again.”
Charlie was puzzled. “Get rid of it? Why?”
“I couldn’t help notice the CSA stamp on the holster and belt buckle. Folks here wouldn’t mind too much, but the Yankees might not take too kindly to it.”
“What’s CSA?” Charlie asked.
Max leaned back in his rocker and took a puff off his cigar. “You tellin’ me you really d
on’t know what that stands for?” He blew smoke in Charlie’s direction.
Charlie thought about it. He rolled CSA over and over in his mind. He could think of a number of scientific terms that would fit that acronym, but other than that he was drawing a blank. Then he remembered to think about the times he was in now. Retraining his brain was going to take a while. He thought about the current events. What’s happening now? Was CSA the holster manufacturer? He thought about the army, the war. What’s going on with the war? The war. The war between the U.S. and the … “Oh, my God! Confederate States of America!”
“Yup.”
Charlie began to perspire. The colonel’s words from yesterday about being a spy came back in his mind. “They’re going to think I’m a spy or something.”
“Are you?”
“No, of course not. Why would you ask that?” He pulled his pistol from the holster and stuck it in his haversack.
Max leaned forward. “Like I said, it’s none of my business. But you have to admit, it looks a little funny, a man your age not being in a uniform with all this fighting going on. There’s a lot at stake with this war. To some folk, their entire way of life is being challenged.”
Charlie had never thought about how he might appear to others. What Max said made a lot of sense. The anxiety that he had so proudly conquered this afternoon was now creeping back in his mind. He began to shake. “The truth is, Max, I’m not in the army and never was in the army. I’m not a spy. I don’t want anything to do with any of this war, for either side. I’m just trying to get as far west as I can go.”
“Then where’d you get that revolver?”
Charlie cupped his hands around his face, trying to clear his mind and questioning whether he should lie or tell Max the truth. Max was the last person he wanted to alienate. “Does it really matter?”
“I suppose not,” Max said. “But, like I said, this war means an awful lot to most people, regardless of which side they’re on. If you don’t tell them, they’re going to start assuming things.”
“Like me being a spy?”
“Yep. Like you being a spy… or worse.” Max leaned back and rocked a little while he blew smoke into the night air.
“I took it off a dead soldier after a battle near Culpepper, Virginia.” There was a pause as Max gazed at Charlie as if begging for a further explanation. “I figured he didn’t need it anymore and I did. So I took it.”
“Well, I suppose you had your reasons. Like I said, it’s none of my business.” Nothing more was said.
The two sat for a while and watched the moon climb higher into the clear sky. Then Max crushed out what little was left of his cigar and stood. “Well, I’m leaving for Fort Smith tomorrow. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Turlock.”
“Charlie. Call me Charlie. And it was my pleasure, Mr. Weatherby. I’m certain I’ll be down your way in a week or so. I’ll look you up.”
Max smiled and shook his hand. “That’s fine, I’ll look forward to that. Right now, I’d better get some sleep. See you at breakfast.” He went inside while Charlie sat for a few minutes longer trying to relax and reflecting on the day’s events and Max’s words.
When he started to go inside he caught a distant flash of light from the woods near the army encampment. He stepped back onto the porch and stared out into the blackness of the forest.
“That can’t be!” he mumbled. Tension seized him, and he began to shake with fear. He wondered whether he had really seen what he thought he’d seen. He watched and listened for a few minutes, but nothing happened. He was just about to write it off as his imagination when he heard the far-off sound of small arms fire. He looked back at the woods. There was a distinct flash of blue-green light. “Damn it!” The army must have seen the time-agents and fired at them. The agents would have jumped again to avoid contact.
Not now! They’re here too soon!
15
Last Day Army
While working alongside Clemens, Charlie had learned about repairing wagon wheels, making nails and horseshoes, and straightening, fabricating, and hardening tools. He never was one for physical labor, but in his old life he didn’t need to be; robots and machines and computers did that. He had been active in some sports which kept him in reasonably good physical shape, but that was nothing compared to the physical work he had done with the blacksmith. A month and a half of working with Clemens and eating minimal food from the land had transformed him into a muscular, strong, lean young man.
On Charlie’s second day at the camp, the colonel sent six seasoned soldiers to erect a rigging system for hoisting the cannon barrels from their carriages. Charlie directed the repair work on the equipment. For the first time in his life he felt comfortable being responsible. He wasn’t worried about how his father would judge him. He didn’t care. He relished having a work crew carry out his directions.
The team constructed an A-frame pulley system and, once the barrels were hoisted off their carriages, they set about repairing the wooden structures of the carriage while Charlie worked on the irons. Once the carriage was repaired the barrel was lowered onto it and reattached with the new or repaired irons. The cracked and broken barrels could not be repaired, at least not by Charlie. The caissons and limbers were repaired in five days. The cannon repairs took the remainder of the ten days.
For ten straight days, Charlie reported to work. He felt safe there. He hadn’t seen or heard anything about the time-agents since that night they had stumbled onto the army camp. No one said anything about the gunshots that night, and Charlie didn’t ask. He was certain, though, that the soldiers had fired upon the time-agents when they arrived. So, for now, the time-agents would most likely avoid the army encampment.
When the repair work was completed, the group of soldiers sat around the wagons talking and joking with Charlie. They were all pleased with their accomplishment and their hard work brought them all a little closer. For the first time since arriving in 1862, he forgot he was from the future and actually felt like one of the group. Charlie enjoyed the down time with the soldiers. He wondered how many of these men would see the end of the war.
“The colonel’s coming,” one of them said. They all stood and watched Colonel Carr walk down the rise toward their group.
“Atten-shun!” a soldier yelled. All ten soldiers snapped to attention.
“As you were, gentlemen,” the colonel said as he approached. The group relaxed and stepped aside as the colonel walked up to Charlie. He looked around at the repaired equipment. Charlie could see that the colonel was pleased, but he wasn’t going to let that be known.
“Well, I see there’s a twelve-pounder missing. You told me you had eleven pieces.”
“I know I told you eleven earlier, Colonel, but I had to scrap another barrel. Once I hoisted it up I found the barrel had cracks in it that I didn’t see the first go-round. But you still have ten functioning cannons -- plus, you got eleven caissons and sixteen limbers available to work another day.”
“How many of those bad cannon barrels can be repaired?”
“I’m not real sure, Colonel. There’s nothing that can be done here. I don’t know whether a foundry would repair them or just melt them down and cast new ones.”
Colonel Carr frowned and lowered his head. He let out a sigh showing his disappointment. “Well, I don’t have the time to ship them back to Boston. Destroy them.”
The Colonel turned and looked at the soldiers. “Take all those broken wagon pieces and burn them. Pull down that rigging and burn that as well. Then throw all those busted cannons on the fire. When they get red hot, take a sledge to them. Tomorrow we break camp and take all this repaired equipment with us.”
“Where we headin’, Colonel?” one soldier asked.
“We’re heading east. That’s all I can tell you, son.” Colonel Carr paused and cast a brief look at Charlie and then back to the men as they headed back to the field to burn whatever wasn’t used.
“You men did a great job. Thank
s for your help,” Charlie shouted as the men walked away. Then he turned to Colonel Carr. “Destroy the barrels, Colonel? Why?”
“Don’t want to leave anything useful for the Rebs to scavenge.” The colonel removed his hat. “Well, I guess you’re done, smithy. If you’re finished here you’re dismissed.”
Charlie stood silent for a moment, took a long look at their accomplishment, and then nodded. He took a deep breath and relaxed. He picked up his haversack, walked to the colonel and stuck out his hand with a smile. “I want to thank you for this opportunity, Colonel. You have no idea what you’ve given me with this task. You take care of yourself and take care of those men.” The colonel smiled and shook Charlie’s hand. “By the way, Colonel. You owe me twenty dollars.” He flashed a broad smile.
Colonel Carr pulled a small coin pouch from his blouse and from it removed two ten-dollar gold eagle coins. He handed the coins to Charlie. “You did a good job, Turlock. We could use you around here. Say the word and I can arrange it where you’d be a civilian employee of the army.”
“No, thanks, Colonel. I told you before I don’t want anything to do with any of this. I’m on my way west. And you’re going in the opposite direction.”
The colonel nodded and lowered his head. “Well, good luck in your travels.” He turned and headed back to camp.
As Charlie walked back to town, he planned his relocation to Fort Smith. Tomorrow he would go to the river and see about getting passage on a boat. Maybe he’d be lucky enough to get on one of Max’s boats.
16
Routine