he was watching out for enemies that I didn't know about.
"How are you going to get back to camp without boots?"
"Same way I got here," I replied, "I'll get a hack."
He seemed to reach a decision. "Let them take your leg," he said. "Let them take your leg off and send you home and you'll be out of this. If the infections don't kill you, General Hardee's troops will."
He had to turn his body away from me to check the street, then he snapped his whip and the horse dragged him out of my life.
January 7th, 1865:
I stayed in camp and nursed my knee until I was called into town by General Hazen. Hazen didn't ask for me, he asked for Colonel Morris, and unfortunately Morris was too hung over to keep the meeting, so his Sergeant came to me with the inventory book in his arms and asked me to give General Hazen the Colonel's regrets. Since the book would have all the numbers Hazen would need to be reassured, I accepted it. I had no time to arrange for a wagon, so I had to use the Colonel's carriage. At some point on our march to Savannah, the bummers had stolen a small carriage and presented it to Morris. It suited his inflated ego perfectly, and most afternoons he could be seen being driven into town ostensibly to important meetings, but as often as not, I suspected, to drink and gamble.
My driver was a kid from Massachusetts named Avery. He was a tall gangly kid who had been issued a new uniform. Unfortunately for Avery, the uniform was a regular size, and as a result his skinny wrists stuck out of his sleeves a good six inches and, when he sat on the wagon seat, his white ankles were exposed above his new boots. Like most of the men in camp, he was attempting to grow a beard to resemble Uncle Billy, but we called him Abe because he resembled the pictures of Abe Lincoln.
"How old are you, Abe?" I asked.
"Eighteen, Sir."
If Avery expected a comment from me he was disappointed. I had nothing to say. In his eyes I was an old man. At 24 years, I felt like an old man. I doubted if Avery would live to be 24.
"Chippewa square," I said, "do you know it?"
"No, sir," said Avery.
"Straight ahead to Bull Street, turn left."
"How is it you know your way around town so well?"
"It's a long and depressing story," I said. "I once courted a very beautiful young lady who lives next door to our destination. It was in '61, a very long time ago."
I was flattered to be attending a meeting with no less than a General, but Hazen wouldn't even know who I was. He just wanted to be assured that the wagons would be ready when the order came down came to move out. My part time duties with the quartermaster included helping with the supervision of maintenance of 403 wagons and 82 ambulances.
As we rolled around Chippewa square, I noticed a huge horse on the common; a horse hitched to a wagon with a familiar hand painted sign. The magnificent animal was being attended by a groom whose livery I knew well. His back was to me, so I couldn't be sure if it was Herb, but the brown jacket and pants were property of the Branch family.
While I was trying to understand the implications of what I'd seen, my driver pulled up. "Here we are, sir," he said.
After returning the post guard's salute, I looked up at the steps with dread. The living floor of the house was built six feet above street level so I had to get myself up the steps with the inventory book in my arms. It was no easy task; I was using a crutch instead of a cane these days and the waves of pain from my knee made me fear that I might faint and fall down the steps.
The door was answered by a Sergeant who wore the crossed cannons of artillery. As an infantryman, I'd always looked down on artillerymen; there was something immoral about killing and maiming men from a mile away, and from behind your own lines. He showed me through the house and then I had to get myself and my book down the steps into the garden where the General was sitting at a small table with two high ranking officers.
"Have a seat, Captain. Have some tea," he said after we'd all exchanged salutes. "Where is Morris?"
"Colonel Morris is ill this morning, sir. He sends his compliments and his apologies."
"Colonel Tennyson, Seventeen Corps, Colonel Davisson, Michigan Cavalry," Hazen said by way of introduction, "And what is your name?"
"McGilvry, sir, Casual, I'm helping Colonel Morris with the wagons."
He pointed at the Sergeant who bowed and left. I suspected the Sergeant had been Hazen's butler or something in his previous life. Hazen sat with his back to the brick wall which separated us from the Branch's garden. I sat down and looked around.
"It's very comfortable here," I said.
"Yes, it's a little respite from the war.
"And very welcome."
Our meeting was a routine pre-move meeting with Hazen asking sharp questions about the condition of Tennyson's men and the condition of Davisson's horses. He asked me related questions about the numbers of extra uniforms and pairs of boots we would be leaving town with, and numbers of horses, wagons, spare wagon wheels etc.. The information was in the book so I was coping, but my mind drifted to the horse and wagon in the square. Was Chester calling on Julia? Surely He wasn't delivering a shipment of his homemade rice whiskey to the Branch residence, and if he was, he would make the delivery in the alley behind the house.
"Captain McGilvry, if you can pay attention." Hazen said irritably.
"Yes Sir!" I said, "What is it sir?"
"How much time do you think you'll need to get your wagons across the Savannah River?"
A brick was missing in the wall behind Hazen's shoulder. Had that hole been there earlier? Had the brick just been removed? I leaned sideways to get a better look.
"Captain McGilvry, are you all right?" Hazen's patience was clearly wearing thin.
"Yes sir, just a little pain." The pieces were beginning to fall into place. Chester wasn't next door delivering whiskey, and he wasn't making a social call on Julia. He was right there, on the other side of the wall, perhaps with his ear to that opening.
I was quite agitated. While a General and two Colonels waited for my answer I struggled to my feet, hobbled around the table and leaned against the wall, effectively covering the gap with my butt.
"500 wagons, sir, "I finally managed, "at one and a half minute intervals. It will take an entire day, dawn to dusk, sir. And that's if the horses behave and nothing breaks down on the bridge."
"You realize that we're exposed while were at the crossing."
"The drivers will be very aware of that, sir. They'll be doing their very best to maintain a close interval and get across in minimum time."
Hazen had to turn around in his chair to see me, and he made it quite obvious that he was annoyed. The Colonels had never seen a company grade officer behave so strangely, they were paying close attention. They must have concluded that I was having some kind of a fit.
"That'll be all, Captain, ah, McGilvry." Hazen said shortly. "You're dismissed."
"Yes sir," I said, leaning forward and unplugging the gap in the wall. "Half the wagons on the north side of the river and half on the south side." I saluted and hobbled rapidly toward the stairs before he could correct me. The silence behind me indicated that the senior officers were looking at each other and shrugging their shoulders. Colonel Morris was going to hear about this. My career, such as it was, was going to suffer for this.
The artillery Sergeant stood at the top of the stairs and regarded me with his butler-like disapproving stare as I struggled up the steps to the house.
I was at the top step, but he hadn't moved out of my way so I could proceed. "Well, Sergeant," I said as calmly as I could, "would you like to get out of my way?"
He managed to insult me with just a look before he moved aside and allowed me to achieve the top step.
"Just this way, sir," he said.
I was finally able to escape Hazen's house and worked my way down to street level.
"Keep this book for me, Abe," I said, "I need to go next door for a minute."
After laboring up ten more steps I slammed t
he knocker loud enough to galvanize the entire Branch household. The door was opened immediately by their butler, who must have seen or heard me coming up the steps. His face creased into a smile, which indicated that he recognized me. I surprised myself by remembering his name.
"Hello Jackson," I said, "I need to see Julia immediately, thank you." I rudely pushed by him and headed through the wide reception hall that led through the house to the back door. I planned to apologize later.
I had forgotten how grand the house was. As I limped down the wide reception hallway toward the rear door I was once again impressed by the ten foot ceilings, the ornate curving stairway and the ostentatious paintings. I had been there before, of course, but the opulence was still intimidating.
When I emerged from the rear of the house, I located Julia and Chester sitting at a small table in the garden, by the wall - just opposite the very location I'd been at two minutes earlier. They sat side by side, very prim-like, as if they had just been interrupted doing something they shouldn't have been doing - which was exactly the case.
I stopped my labored journey down the steps momentarily and caught them exchanging a look. I took a moment to study Julia. She wore a white dress with lots of lace and petticoats, her tiny feet were protected by shiny ankle boots. She was even more beautiful than the fresh and precocious sixteen year old girl who was imprinted in my memory. I wondered if she had matured gracefully, or if she was still the self centered teasing girl who picked men up, played with them, and put
Occupy Savannah Sequel to Coffee Bluff Page 4