by Edward Gates
“Colonel, I have some information that I think might interest you. Might I have a word with you in private?” Dave asked.
The colonel nodded and motioned for Dave to join him inside the tent. Dave gestured for Ed to join him and handed the reins to Charlie. “Stay here and behave yourself. Don’t do anything to rile these boys.”
Charlie quietly sat in the wagon holding the reins. He was a little nervous from being surrounded by eight mounted soldiers.
The lieutenant looked at him. “Where you from?”
Charlie hesitated. “Fort Smith.”
“How come you ain’t in the service of your country?”
“You have no idea of the service I’m providing this country. I’m just not in a uniform.”
“Well, that’ll change.” The lieutenant motioned to a soldier. “Take this young buck over and get him put in the ranks.” He turned back to Charlie. “You are now a member of General John Walker’s Grayhound Division.”
“The hell I am!” Charlie stood up in the wagon in defiance. That was the last thing he remembered.
43
The Deal
Charlie woke with a thunderous pain pounding in his head. He was lying on a dirt floor in a poorly lit room with adobe walls. It was dark and the only light was from the moonlight that filtered in through a small narrow window high up on one wall. He tried to focus but his vision was blurred. His neckerchief was loosely tied around his head and stuck to matted hair on the back of his head. He started to sit up when Walter placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Easy there. You got clobbered pretty good.”
Charlie slowly eased himself into a sitting position and leaned back against the wall. He held his head with both hands “My God, what happened?”
“When you stood up, some soldier thumped you with the butt of his rifle. You went down hard. You got a nasty wound on the back of your head.” Walter sat next to Charlie and leaned against the wall. “Looks like it stopped bleeding. You doing okay?”
“No. My head’s spinning and I have this screaming in my ears.”
“Well, just relax. We ain’t goin’ anywhere for a while.”
“Where are we?” Charlie looked around. “Where’s Dave and Ed?”
Walter looked around. “We’re in some building on the edge of town. Soldiers are all around. Ed and Dave were talking to the commander, last I heard.”
“Are we prisoners?”
“Well, I don’t know about that. Door’s locked, so I suppose we are.”
“Why are you here?”
“I pulled my gun on the fella that bashed you. I guess they didn’t take too kindly to that. I didn’t shoot him. Just the same, they took my gun and shoved me in here along with you.”
Charlie looked down and noticed his gun and holster were missing. He shook his head. “I don’t believe this is happening to me,” he muttered to himself. He looked at Walter. “How long have we been here?”
“I figure it’s the middle of the night. We got thrown in here late afternoon.”
“Night!” Charlie exclaimed. “You mean I’ve been out all this time?”
Walter nodded.
“Good Lord.” Charlie leaned his head back against the wall and took a few deep breaths, hoping to ease the throbbing in his head. He closed his eyes and eventually dozed off to sleep.
Charlie woke to the sound of keys opening the metal lock on the door. He looked around and saw Walter standing looking out the small window. It was morning. The door abruptly swung open and two armed soldiers escorted them out into the bright morning light.
“Where we headin’?” Walter asked.
“Your friends are waiting for you. Move,” one soldier ordered.
Charlie and Walter were marched up the road and through a maze of small tents until they reached the colonel’s tent. Charlie was relieved to see Dave and Ed sitting around the colonel’s desk. The wagons and oxen were still where they had left them the night before, complete with secured cargo.
“Good morning,” the colonel said. “I apologize for your accommodations last night. But in this camp I will not tolerate any insubordination in my ranks… including civilians.”
Charlie and Walter didn’t say anything. Dave walked out of the tent and approached Charlie.
“How you doing?” he asked.
“I got a headache.” Charlie paused. He was angry, tired and in a lot of pain.
“That’s because you got your head split open, you damn fool.”
“Are we getting out of here?”
Dave paused and looked over at Ed and then back to Charlie and Walter. “Yep, we are. But not right away. We explained to the colonel what we’re carrying and sort of worked out a deal.”
“A deal? Great. When are we leaving? I don’t particularly like it here,” Charlie said.
“That’ll be up to the colonel. He agreed that our cargo needs to get to Galveston. So he’s putting together twelve soldiers to escort us and the wagons to Galveston. Once the cargo is loaded on a ship, the soldiers will take possession of the wagons and teams and leave us the horses to go back to Fort Smith.”
Charlie nodded in agreement. However, he could see a strained look on Dave’s face. He hesitated to ask. “The plan sounds good, Dave. But what else? There’s something else you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”
Dave looked over at Ed, who stepped forward and stood between Walter and Dave.
“Like Dave said,” Ed began, “we had to make a deal. The colonel liked the black horse so we’re leaving that one here for him. And… we’re also leaving him… you.”
“What?” Charlie exclaimed. “You gotta be kidding me!”
“Charlie. Listen to me…” Dave began.
“No! Hell, no! There is no way in hell that I’m staying here. I can’t! I know you don’t understand, but I absolutely cannot be a part of any army! There’ll be records and that can’t happen!”
“Charlie. Charlie! Stop a second and listen to me.”
“You traded me and a horse for your freedom?” Charlie’s voice rose in anger. “I don’t believe this!”
Ed took Charlie aside and they slowly walked out of earshot of the others. “Look. If we were all young like you, none of us would be leaving here.”
“Now that’s comforting.”
Ed glanced back over his shoulder to make sure he couldn’t be overheard. “There ain’t no way we’re gonna leave you here. But we had to agree to the deal. It was the only way we could get the colonel to let us and that cargo leave here. We need you to play along for a little while.”
Charlie stared back at Ed. His mind raced with such anger that he couldn’t think of anything to say. Then he recognized a glimmer of compassion in his eyes.
“Charlie, I know you’re riled and you got every right to be. I don’t like this any more than you do. But we will get you out of here.”
“When? When will you get me out of here? How long do I have to play along?”
Ed lowered his head and looked away. “I don’t know. With a dozen soldiers around us, it’s gonna be rough. But you have to trust us. We will not leave you here. If we have to come and bust you out of here, it’s what we’ll do.”
Charlie, still seething, saw there was no other choice. He took several deep breaths and tried to calm down. As much as he hated the plan, he could see a certain logic to it. Charlie lowered his eyes and nodded. He figured he could bear the army for a day or so.
Ed placed his hand on Charlie’s shoulder and smiled. When they turned around and began to walk back to the others, Charlie noticed that Dave and the others were now joined by the lieutenant and a few other soldiers. Charlie stopped and turned to Ed. “I need you to do me one thing.”
“Sure. What?” Ed answered.
“Make sure I get my valise before you leave here. Promise me you’ll do that.”
“Sure thing, Charlie. I’ll be sure to get that to ya.”
“Private Turlock!” the lieutenant called out. “You wi
ll fall in and follow us. You will be taken to medical for treatment of your wound before you get processed.”
“Processed?” Charlie looked at Ed. “You’d better make that rescue pretty damn quick.”
44
Indoctrination
Flanked by two young soldiers, Charlie followed the lieutenant through a maze of neatly aligned tents until they reached a larger medical tent set off from the others. The area surrounding the medical tent was crowded with patients with various ailments. Some were on cots, some on litters, some sat on stools, but most lounged on the ground. Charlie couldn’t tell whether these men had been treated and were recuperating or were waiting their turn to see the medical staff.
As the lieutenant and Charlie entered the tent, he was immediately struck with a stench that took his breath away. The disturbing odor was akin to rotting meat with an overtone of chloroform. He coughed from the foul air. Along one side of the tent ran a narrow wooden table holding a number of medical tools and supplies. A larger stained table for patients occupied the middle of the tent. The wooden floor, soaked with water and various other fluids, was littered with dirty rags and used bandages. The doctor was an older man with thinning white hair that looked as if it had never been combed. He wore a severely stained white shirt, buttoned to the neck with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, but no vest or tie.
The doctor was busy treating a recruit, so Charlie waited. Curious about the medicines of this time, he studied the narrow table behind the doctor. The tools were all dirty from use, some even rusty. Several bottles were lined up containing unfamiliar ointments, oils, extracts and chemical compounds.
The doctor finished with the other soldier and turned his attention to Charlie. “Let’s see what we got, here.” He yanked Charlie’s neckerchief from his head, tearing away the matted hair and dried blood from his wound. Charlie let out a cry of pain and pulled away from the doctor.
“What’s the matter, son?”
Seeing the unwashed hands of the doctor, along with the unsanitary tools, convinced Charlie that he didn’t want this man to touch his wound.
“Do you have any alcohol or disinfectant here? Just pour some on one of those cotton pads and put it on my wound. That’s all I need.”
“I think that wound needs to be closed up, son.”
“It’ll close by itself as long as it’s not infected.”
The doctor appeared a bit annoyed. “You trying to tell me my business, boy? What do you know about infections?”
Charlie wanted to elaborate on the causes of infection and how easy it was to contain simply by cleaning hands and instruments. But, that information could affect history. During the Civil War, thousands of troops died from infections and diseases rather than their wounds. If Charlie explained how to stop infections, the doctor might save countless lives that would definitely affect history… and maybe even the war’s outcome. He lowered his head.
The doctor reached for Charlie’s wound, but he pulled away again.
“You want me to look at that wound, or not?”
“I’m sorry, doctor,” Charlie said. “But I do know a little about infections. And from the looks of things around here, I’d say you have a serious problem with it.”
The doctor scowled at him and turned away to the supply table. He poured some carbolic acid on a cotton pad and handed it to Charlie. “Here! Take it and get out. I don’t want to see you in my tent again.”
Charlie took the pad, picked up his neckerchief and walked out of the tent. At the doorway he turned to tell the doctor to clean his hands and instruments between patients but thought better of it and left.
He stood next to the lieutenant after they left the medical tent. He placed the soaked pad on his wound and retied his neckerchief around his head to hold the pad in place. At first, the carbolic acid burned and he winced from the pain. Slowly the burning subsided and he felt a coolness from the evaporation.
The lieutenant watched him curiously. Charlie estimated the officer to be about the same age as him, and about half his size. Charlie guessed that the lieutenant had never seen anyone talk to the doctor the way he had.
“What’s next?”
“We’ll get you signed up and bunked.”
Charlie followed the lieutenant back to a slightly smaller tent next to the colonel’s tent. Inside, three clerks sat at field desks working feverishly on various paperwork. The lieutenant presented Charlie to the first clerk they encountered. “New recruit, here,” the lieutenant said.
The clerk raised his eyes from his paperwork for a moment and glanced at Charlie over the top of his round wire-rimmed spectacles. He nodded and pulled a large green book from the shelf behind him. He stood and looked at Charlie again.
“What’s your name?” The clerk thumbed through the book until he came to a page half-filled with names.
“Charlie. Charlie Turlock.”
On the next blank line, the clerk wrote Charlie’s name. “Where you from, Charlie Turlock?”
“Fort Smith.”
The clerk added city and state behind Charlie’s name. He spun the book around and pointed to the blank spot on the same line. He handed Charlie a quill pen. “Make your mark here.”
Charlie wrote his initials, CT, and set the pen down.
“Raise your right hand,” the clerk ordered, which Charlie did. “Do you solemnly swear to bear true faith and allegiance to the Confederate States of America and serve them honestly and faithfully against all their enemies or opposers whomsoever?”
Charlie nodded.
“You got to say it,” the clerk said.
Charlie thought for a moment and wondered what would happen to him if he refused the pledge. It was a passing thought. Whatever would happen from his refusal of the pledge would not be good. “I do.”
“… And do you swear to observe and obey the orders of the President of the Confederate States and the orders of the officers appointed over you according to the Rules and Articles of War?”
“Sure. Yeah, I do.”
“Welcome to the army, Charlie. We ain’t got no more uniforms right now. We’re supposed to get some soon.” The clerk closed the green book and set it back on the shelf and then retrieved a large roll of paper and unrolled it across his desk. It was a diagram of the layout of all the tents in the camp, each tent represented by a square block. The clerk pointed to a particular block on the diagram and looked at Charlie. “Down this corridor, the sixth tent on the right is now empty. You can bunk there.”
“What happened to the former occupant?” Charlie asked.
“He lit out a week or so ago. Ain’t seen hide nor hair of him since.”
When they left the clerk’s tent Charlie saw his friends and partners getting ready to leave with an escort of a dozen soldiers. He walked over to say goodbye. He pulled his bedroll and valise from the wagon and wished the trio good luck.
“You all right?” Dave asked.
“So far I am.” Charlie looked at Ed. “They put me in the sixth tent on the right down this row here.” He pointed to the central corridor of tents. Ed nodded. Charlie said goodbye to all and shook everyone’s hand.
As the two wagons started to pull away, Ed looked back at Charlie. “We’ll be seeing you soon.”
“I’m counting on that.” Charlie waved at the departing wagons. A feeling of being alone suddenly engulfed him. He shuddered with the fear of being deserted by the team that he looked at as family. He had come to rely on them for support and friendship. He really was all alone.
The lieutenant interrupted Charlie’s thoughts by escorting him to the vacant tent. Charlie bent down and looked inside. The tent was four feet wide, six feet long, but only four feet high, and entirely empty with no ground cover. He would have to enter on his hands and knees.
“Tomorrow you’ll be outfitted with whatever supplies we got. We start drills in the morning.”
“Drills?”
The lieutenant walked away without another remark, leaving him a
lone by his tent.
Charlie had never been in the military. However, he knew some people in the twenty-third century who were in the service. He remembered them talking about drill instructors and the tortuous routines new recruits endured throughout their basic training. He could only imagine what “drills” the lieutenant was referring to. He hung on to Ed’s promise to relieve him of military life. He longed for it to be soon.
45
Dilemma
Charlie spent the night dozing off and on waiting for Ed and Dave to come back for him. They didn’t show. At dawn he awoke from a broken sleep to the racket of a sergeant walking among the tents, hollering and banging a stick against tent poles. Charlie was assigned to a company of over two-hundred recruits. They ate, drilled, ate, drilled, ate and then drilled some more until the sun set. At night, Charlie retired to his tent and resumed waiting for his fellow freighters to return. The waiting turned into days; the days turned into a week. Still no sign of Ed, Dave, or Walter. He wondered if he had been abandoned or forgotten.
Every day was the same thing. The drills consisted mostly of learning how to perform maneuvers on a battlefield. They would march in four columns and then move from that marching formation into a rank-and-file battle line of hundreds of men standing shoulder-to-shoulder, two lines deep. This one maneuver would take over an hour to complete. Charlie had seen this type of battle line at the Cedar Creek battle he first witnessed in Virginia. He remembered thinking how suicidal it was. Once in line, standing side by side, they practiced other maneuvers… over and over.
Charlie was issued a Springfield smooth-bore musket as his weapon. A daily drill was the run-through of the multiple steps necessary to load and fire his weapon. On command he, along with the others, would remove a paper cartridge from his cartridge box, tear off the end of the cartridge with his teeth, pour the powder and minni-ball into the muzzle, ram the ball down the muzzle using the ramrod, replace the ramrod, half cock the hammer, place a copper percussion cap on the nipple, fully cock the hammer, take aim, and fire. This was all to be accomplished within thirty seconds or less.