by Edward Gates
It took Charlie a lot longer. He noticed that most of the others were very proficient in the use of a musket. The average Southern soldier was well versed in the use of his weapon as he usually was a small farmer and often hunted for his meat. Charlie had some catching up to do. Ammunition was scarce and most of it was sent to the front lines for the soldiers to use in battle. The South couldn’t afford to waste ammunition on training. Soldiers had to use fake cartridges and dummy percussion caps for their drills.
With each passing day Charlie lost a little more hope that his comrades would ever return for him. Deep despair came over him at the thought of being abandoned by his friends. He would sit alone and tears would form in his eyes. He trembled at the thought of the possibility that he would actually become a part of the Confederate Army and end up in a battle. It was March of eighteen-sixty-three and he knew soldiers from all over the South would be called upon to join General Robert E. Lee on a northern march ending in Gettysburg. The last place he wanted to go.
On Charlie’s ninth day in camp, while eating his midday meal of biscuits and beans, he overheard a group of men talking. It wasn’t what they were saying that got his attention, but rather the voices themselves. He recognized those voices. Carrying his tin plate with him, he followed the sound of the voices until he came upon a group lounging under the shade of a tree. He smiled. “Texas Jack Cable!” Charlie cried.
Texas Jack turned and looked at Charlie. “Well, I’ll be…” He stood and smiled. “Looks like they got them a freighter. It’s Charlie, ain’t it?”
“Yep. Charlie Turlock.” He held his hand out and Jack shook it. “It’s real good to see you again, Jack. What are you all doing here? I thought you were going to Austin.”
Texas Jack nodded. “We did. Cap’n Ross took us there. Got into a big argument with an officer. He told the captain that we all had to come here to be taught military ways. Captain Ross didn’t take to kindly to that. We been fightin’ Indians, banditos, and scoundrels out here for years. We already know how to fight.”
“I suppose you do.” Charlie looked around at the others. There appeared to be fewer than half of the group that had ridden along with the freighters in the panhandle. “Are you all here? Is Captain Ross with you?”
“When they told us we had to come here, a lot of the Rangers refused to go and said they’d take their chances on their own.” Jack stepped in a little closer to Charlie and looked around to see whether anyone was near. He leaned in and spoke low. “You got to swear you won’t tell no one.”
Charlie nodded. Curiosity filled his being and he leaned in closer to Jack.
“The captain got word that the governor is gonna form a frontier battalion to guard the western border.” Jack smiled.
Charlie was confused. He couldn’t see what a frontier battalion of Confederate soldiers had to do with him or the Rangers. He stared back at Texas Jack, hoping there would be further explanation.
“Don’t you see?” Jack asked. “The new battalion will officially be Confederate soldiers, but they’ll be stationed out west and under the command of the governor… not President Davis or General Lee.”
Charlie slowly nodded. “And you guys want to be a part of that battalion, right?”
“Right. Captain Ross is gonna try and head up that battalion. That means we’ll all get to stay here in Texas and probably never see a Yankee.”
Charlie’s mind raced. If he had been abandoned here, and it looked more and more likely that he had been, then that frontier battalion would be a perfect place for him to ride out the war without taking any active part in it.
“That sounds great,” he said. “You think I could be a part of that battalion?”
Jack nodded. “It ain’t official, yet. Might not happen at all. But, when the time comes, I’ll be sure to bring you along.” He spat in his hand and held it out to Charlie. “I swear I will. You got my word.”
Charlie hesitated while he studied the repulsive impromptu ritual. He assumed that spitting in one’s hand was the seal of a promise. In spite of his disgust, he lightly spat in his own palm and clasped hands with Jack.
The sound of a far-off bugle alerted everyone that lunch was over and it was time for more drills. Charlie’s momentary slide into depression had been suddenly alleviated by his visit with Texas Jack. Just seeing Jack’s face and spending some time with someone familiar was comfort enough. Now, Jack gave Charlie a “Plan B,” a safe, out-of-the-way place in the western wilderness of Texas where he would have as little impact on history as possible. He was elated, but troubled. What if Ed and Dave did return to get him? He was actually looking forward to joining the Rangers and being a part of that battalion. Now he wasn’t so sure he wanted Ed and Dave to come back for him.
With two full weeks of training behind him, Charlie had given up hope of ever seeing Ed, Dave and Walter again. He had accepted the fact that he was officially in the Confederate Army. There was no escaping it. There was nothing around Crockett for miles and miles. Even if he ran away, he’d be lost within hours of leaving the camp. Instead of looking for rescue, he now hoped for word from Texas Jack about being assigned to some phantom frontier battalion.
It was a Sunday around the end of March. The daytime air was getting a little warmer as the approach of spring slowly drove off the winter chill. On Sundays the constant drilling of the troops was halted for the afternoon, giving the men a much-needed rest and a little free time to themselves.
Charlie used his time off to touch base with Texas Jack. As he walked across the encampment he noticed some riders approaching at a distance from the south. This was nothing out of the ordinary; riders came and went through Crockett all the time. However, there was something about this group that caught his attention. He stopped and watched them get nearer. There were three riders on horseback. They had a fourth horse in tow and three heavily laden pack mules.
Charlie snickered. “Prospectors,” he mumbled to himself and continued his walk to Texas Jack’s tent.
Charlie and Jack spent part of the afternoon walking the compound and talking about the anticipated frontier battalion. Jack explained that a series of outposts would be established across the western border of Texas and the battalion would man those outposts. Scouting parties would regularly be sent from one post to another to establish a presence in the area to deter outlaw and Indian raids. Charlie was getting excited about the prospect of joining the Rangers. He hoped Jack would keep his word and take him along when Captain Ross formed his battalion. The two stopped and joined another group of Rangers to talk about rumors and news. No one mentioned Captain Ross or the battalion.
After a few hours, Charlie got tired and thought an afternoon nap would be in order. He excused himself and went back to his tent. His bedroll and valise were missing. The only items in his tent were the gear that was issued to him by the army. Panic shot up his spine. “Damn it!” He scampered out of his tent and came face to face with Dave. The initial shock caused him to step back. Then, realizing Dave was really standing in front of him, Charlie threw his arms around him. The show of affection took Dave by surprise. He unhooked Charlie’s arms and moved away from him.
“What the hell’s the matter with you?” Dave asked.
“I’m sorry. I never thought I’d see you again.”
“Well, we told you we’d be back for ya.”
“Yeah. Yeah, you did. But I didn’t think it would be this long,” Charlie explained. “I thought it would be that night… or maybe the next night.”
“Well we couldn’t quite spirit you away when we were surrounded by a dozen troops. Now could we?”
Charlie lowered his head and nodded. “I guess you’re right. I never thought of that.”
Dave pointed down The Row of tents to the prairie beyond. “We’re gonna camp on the other side of that rise. After sunset you walk down this row to the end. You’ll see our firelight a little ways from there. When you join us, we’ll hightail it out of here.”
Ch
arlie smiled. He was excited to finally rejoin his friends and get away from the army. Then it struck him. “Wait. I can’t leave yet. Someone stole my valise.”
“Hush up, fool. We took your things. We got your bedroll on that old bay you was riding and your valise is packed with our gear on a mule. Just walk out and join us tonight. All right?”
Charlie nodded, relieved to know that his belongings were safe. He watched Dave walk down the row of tents and out into the prairie. He looked around to see if anyone was in the immediate vicinity who could have overheard their conversation. There was no one. He crawled into his tent and sat on the ground. So much to digest so quickly. Dave’s appearance changed everything he had been thinking about.
Once he relaxed and started to think about his conversation with Dave, the more he realized the quandary he was in. If he stayed in the army, he would most likely be just another nameless, faceless soldier among the thousands of others. The only place his name would be recorded would be in that green book in the clerk’s tent. Walking away from the army would make him a deserter and his name would likely be published all over the South. Trying to keep his name out of historical records was becoming a problem.
Then there was Texas Jack and the frontier battalion. He liked Jack and was really looking forward to being a Ranger. If he deserted, the likelihood of him ever joining that battalion would be slim. In fact, if he showed his face to the frontier battalion after walking away from Crockett he would likely be arrested or hanged.
Charlie needed to make a choice. If he remained, there was only a small chance of him getting into the Rangers battalion. There was no guarantee that Jack would take him along; Jack didn’t have that kind of authority. It would be up to Captain Ross to request Charlie, and then up to Charlie’s officers to let him go.
Too many ifs, Charlie thought. The sure thing was to escape with Ed and Dave and Walter. But in order to escape cleanly for posterity, he would have to get his name out of that green book in the clerk’s office. The plan seemed easy enough: Break into the clerk’s tent, erase his name from the book, and just walk away.
46
Deserter
The afternoon dragged for Charlie until he heard the clang of an iron bell signaling the evening meal. A prelude to a setting sun… and his getaway. He could barely contain his excitement about rejoining his partners and getting away from the army. He stood outside his tent and watched the other soldiers stroll past him on their way to the cook wagon. When the last of the soldiers filed past, he walked in the opposite direction toward the clerk’s tent.
Charlie slowly walked past the clerk’s tent and noticed that the entrance flap was closed and tied. He continued past the colonel’s tent. It was empty. He backtracked and listened for anyone’s presence. He didn’t hear a thing. He tried to relax and breathe normally, but he couldn’t ignore the pounding of his heart and a mouth so dry he couldn’t swallow.
With shaking hands he fumbled to untie the flap and quickly slipped into the clerk’s tent. He closed the flap behind him. The green registrar book was on the shelf where the first clerk put it. Charlie thumbed through the book until he found the page where his name was written. Since it would be impossible to erase the ink, he decided to blot it out. He took the inkwell from the clerk’s desk and poured a few drops of ink over his name, obliterating it. The ink ran over a few other names and soaked through to the next page. Using his neckerchief, already stained with blood and carbolic acid, he dabbed up the excess ink and then replaced the book on the shelf.
Charlie listened at the tent’s flap but didn’t hear anyone outside. He quickly exited the tent and closed and retied the flap. He tried to walk away nonchalantly but couldn’t keep his legs from doing quick steps. He stopped at his tent, crawled inside and finally breathed easily. The only record of Charlie Turlock being in the Confederate army had been eliminated.
Once he calmed down, he gathered his tin dinnerware set, consisting of a cup, a plate and a crude three-tined fork, and made his way to the cook wagon for his evening plate of beans with bacon, coffee, and a cornmeal biscuit that was so hard it had to be dipped in the coffee. He heard more than one soldier refer to the biscuits as “dodgers.”
After he ate, he stashed his tin cup and plate back in his tent and walked to the end of the row of tents. Off in the distance Charlie saw a spiral of smoke that he assumed came from Dave’s campsite. He wanted to run and join them now, but heeded Dave’s instructions about waiting until sunset. He glanced at the position of the sun in the sky. It would only be a couple more hours.
While Charlie stood watching the gray campfire smoke dissipate into the air, two sentries walked by. He nodded a greeting toward them. They stopped. He had forgotten there were sentry guards posted each evening.
“What are you doing here, soldier?” one sentry asked.
“Just taking a walk and noticed that smoke out there,” Charlie said pointing to Dave’s campsite.
“Yeah. We saw that, too. Just a few old travelers making camp for the night.” The sentries resumed their walk around the outskirts of the post. He wished he had a watch to time the guards’ passing. He needed to see how much time elapsed before they again passed by the spot where he was. Charlie stepped back a few steps, sat down and began a slow count. He stopped counting when he reached 180. The guards still had not returned. Three minutes would be more than enough time for him to reach Dave’s camp without being seen. Charlie sat and waited for a few more minutes before the guards finally passed by again. He shook his head, stood and walked back up the row of tents. “Some security,” he mumbled.
To pass the time, he walked over to Texas Jack’s tent. Jack was with his group of Rangers, all gathered around Captain Ross. At first Charlie was a little hesitant to join them, but he was too curious to leave. Jack saw Charlie and waved him over.
“This here’s the fella I been tellin’ ya about, Cap’n. Name’s Charlie,” Jack said.
Captain Ross studied Charlie for a moment. “Oh, yes. I remember you… the freighter. You seemed to handle yourself pretty well with that Indian attack. Can you ride?”
Charlie nodded. “Yeah, I can ride. Probably not as good as you and these men, but it won’t take me long to catch up with them. I’m a quick learner.”
“You have a weapon?”
“I had a pistol, but the Army took it from me.”
“Each Ranger supplies his own weapons and his own horse,” Captain Ross said. “You think you’ll have any trouble doing that?”
“You get me out of here and I’ll get whatever I need,” Charlie replied.
“I like your attitude.” The captain smiled. “But you still gotta be outfitted. I’ll consider taking you along when we form the new battalion.” He turned and started to walk away.
“When do you think that might be?” Charlie hollered after the captain. Captain Ross kept walking without a reply. Charlie looked at Texas Jack hoping to get an answer from him.
“The captain said it’s for sure gonna happen. It just ain’t official, yet.”
“So what does that mean?”
“I don’t know. I figure it’ll probably be sometime this summer.”
Charlie shook his head. “That won’t work for me, Jack. I’ve already been here two weeks. They’re gonna ship me off to war in another week or so.”
“Maybe I can talk to the captain and get you transferred to our unit right away.”
“Well, you can try. But, he didn’t seem too thrilled about me joining up with you all.” Charlie started to walk away, then stopped. “I can’t go to war, Jack. I’m not a coward, but there is no way I can participate in this war. If you can’t get me into your unit I’m going to have to get out of here.”
Jack’s eyes widened. “You don’t want to do that, Charlie. Deserters are hunted down like dogs. Where would you go?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’d head north.”
“Look around this place, Charlie. There ain’t nothin’ but open land for miles.
They’d find you in a minute. Why, they got groups of civilians that track deserters down. Just last week they brought in three deserters and marched ‘em through town behind their own coffins. When they got to the cemetery they set them boys down on their coffins and shot ‘em dead right there.”
Charlie was speechless. How could civilians just murder three Southern boys in cold blood? All he could do was stare at Texas Jack.
“They’d send your name to every town and outpost in a hundred miles. You’d be labeled a traitor,” Jack continued. “There’s a group of deserters and traitors that ran up into the northern hills ‘round Gainesville and joined up with those German Unionists. Scalawags, each an’ ever’ one of ‘em. They’re like guerrilla raiders. Some of them was captured by some folks from Dallas and strung up on the spot. They hung a sign on ‘em saying ‘Traitors,’”
Charlie quit listening as Jack went on and on about the repercussions of desertion. He’d heard enough about the troubles that could come his way. This could change everything. He walked away from Jack without saying a word. On the way back to his tent, questions and fears swirled through his mind. Would he spend the rest of his life hiding out from being a deserter? He wondered how long it would take before the army noticed he was gone. With his name blotted out of the book, he questioned whether they would even know his name.
Sitting in his tent he was torn between staying and taking a chance on getting into the Rangers unit or leaving with the teamsters and possibly being hunted down and executed as a traitor. He’d already told Dave he’d meet him tonight. But he was also looking forward to being a Ranger. The sun was setting. It was time to make a choice.