The Last Full Measure

by Jack Campbell

  Several men followed the pistol barrel into the car, shotguns and pistols coming to bear on the rest of the guards while the soldiers were still trying to swing around the long barrels of their rifles. Within moments the guards had been disarmed and were being bound.

  One of the intruders was a tall, handsome man who carried himself in a way that made Chamberlain think of some Knight of the Round Table. He walked down the aisle of the car, indicating prisoners who his followers hastened to release with keys taken from the major. Reaching Chamberlain’s row, the man looked down at the southerner chained to him and laughed. “Hullo, Lo.”

  “Good evening, Win,” Chamberlain’s companion replied cheerfully. “It has been a while. What brings you here?”

  “The colonel. He heard you would be on this train.”

  Another man rushed into the car and saluted the handsome gentleman. “The train is ours, major.”

  “Damn fine work, sergeant. Our work here will be done soon. Are you ready to go, Lo?”

  Chamberlain’s companion stood up, then gestured to Chamberlain. “Please bring my new friend as well.”

  “Oh?” The major eyed Chamberlain. “Who is he?”

  Chamberlain answered. “Professor of Rhetoric Joshua Chamberlain. From Bowdoin, in Maine.”

  “The hell you say.” The tall, handsome major flashed a grin at the southerner. “Come along, then, professor. I do not know what services a professor of rhetoric can render our cause, but if Lo vouches for you that is all I require.”

  Chamberlain joined the stream of released prisoners as they left the train and followed guides into the woods. After several minutes, he looked back through the trees and saw the lights of the train moving off. “They’re just letting the train depart?” he asked.

  “As far as the trestle across the James River,” the good-looking officer replied. “Have introductions been made? What is this country coming to? I am Major Winfield Hancock of the Army of the New Republic, professor, and this is Captain Lewis Armistead, still of the regular army as far as I know, if you haven’t been formally introduced to him, either. Our men will take the train as far as the trestle, then set fire to it and burn both bridge and train.”

  Chamberlain felt a chill which had nothing to do with the night air. “What of the people on the train?”

  Hancock waved one hand dismissively. “We’ve already let the other prisoners from the train go to scatter into the woods where they may. The soldiers will be released before the train is set afire.” His smile shone white in the darkness. “There’s little sense in killing the so-called officers on that train. Such buffoons are more a danger to the side they serve than to us.”

  “Where are we going, Win?” Armistead asked.

  “To the colonel’s headquarters for the night. There are horses up ahead. Don’t worry, even in the dark his men know this region like the backs of their hands.”

  “The colonel?” Armistead pressed.

  “Mosby,” Hancock replied. “John Singleton Mosby. A damned fine tactician and strategist. He rules this part of Virginia, and he’s no friend of tyranny.”

  “I have heard the name, but not that he was a colonel.”

  “That’s his current rank in the Army of the New Republic. We’re growing, Lo. More volunteers every day. Even here in northern Virginia some folks are getting fed up with the regular army deciding who the president will be and the president doing whatever he thinks the army wants and never mind the Constitution.”

  “There are some in Maine as well,” Chamberlain offered. “We are a long ways from Washington and that has made it less galling, but the free folk of Maine are getting less and less tolerant of a federal government dancing to the tune set by plantation lords in the south and rich industrialists in the north.” He suddenly remembered where Armistead was from. “My apologies if my statement offended you, Captain Armistead.”

  Armistead waved away Chamberlain’s apology. “You say nothing but the truth, professor. There is no need for concern on my account when speaking candidly.”

  “Don’t let Lo’s mild manners fool you,” Hancock cautioned. “This old bastard has a temper. Just ask Jubal Early.”

  “Speaking of fatherless get,” Armistead murmured. “I only regret that the plate I broke over his head was not made of pewter rather than porcelain.” He smiled briefly at Chamberlain. “That small event led to my departure from West Point. I received a commission later on despite that, but unlike my esteemed friend Winfield Hancock I never graduated from the Point.”

  “It doesn’t make you any less an officer,” Hancock declared. “Especially compared to a son-of-a-bitch like Early. Remember when his men tried to blow him to hell during the war with Mexico? Rolled a cannon ball with a lit fuse under his cot. Damned if I know how he survived.”

  “The devil looks after his own.”

  They reached a clearing where Chamberlain could make out many horses through the dimness. He was led to one and mounted it, then watched as a large group of already-mounted men rode into the clearing. “Report, Captain Buford,” Hancock called.

  “Our maneuvers were successful, Major,” Buford announced. “Regular army cavalry patrols were drawn off and are currently chasing their own tails well to the northeast of here. I have a screen of scouts in place to let us know if any veer back in this direction.”

  “Damn good job, John. Have your men take the lead. I’ll follow with the raiding force.”

  Armistead, his horse near Chamberlain’s, turned a surprised expression on Hancock. “I thought John Buford was still out west.”

  “Was,” Hancock agreed. “Fighting the damned Texicans. He was relieved of command after refusing to follow a lunatic order from a politician in a colonel’s uniform. Then he had to watch his company of cavalry get torn to pieces in a senseless charge, and endure being court-martialed for the crime of trying to prevent that. They tried busting him to sergeant, but Buford rode away with most of what was left of his company.”

  “You cannot underestimate the Texicans,” Armistead said, sighing. “They show no enthusiasm for accepting the annexation of their republic by our republic, and all too much enthusiasm for fighting anyone who disagrees with them.”

  “You all seem to know each other,” Chamberlain marveled.

  Armistead and Hancock exchanged looks. “West Point, professor,” Armistead explained. “Despite the common use by the government in Washington of military officer positions as reward for political loyalty, the regular army has managed to maintain a few officers on merit, almost all West Point graduates.”

  “It sounds like many of you are going over to the Army of the New Republic.”

  “More and more,” Hancock said quietly. “All of us? Not so. And not every professional sticking with the government is a son-of-a-bitch like Early or a dumb-ass incompetent like Pope. There’s some very good men who still march to the beat of the drum in Washington. Make no mistake of that.” He paused, then spoke with sudden passion. “May God damn Andrew Jackson! If not for him, we would still be a republic in fact as well as name, and not facing our own former comrades at point of sword.”

  “Most blame Jackson,” Chamberlain objected, “but even though the use of military officer positions as partisan political prizes bore its awful fruit after Andrew Jackson, the tree was planted by John Adams. Adams was one of the founders we revere, yet he was too free with the idea of emergency measures which overrode the Constitution, such as the Alien and Sedition Acts. Now we live in a perpetual state of national emergency, subject to ‘protections’ which have produced the loss of the liberty which we mourn.”

  Armistead nodded. “Even though West Pointers have protected each other somewhat, it has been a losing battle, more of us being forced out each year. We still have a core of actual professional officers trying to hold things together, but the rest of the officer corps is simply a group of political partisans who come and go at the whims of those pulling the strings at the White House.”

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nbsp; “Thank you, professor.” Hancock looked straight ahead as he spoke. “I had not heard some of what you say, which is little surprise given how much of our history has been hidden for the benefit of those controlling public records. But the blame scarcely matters now except to prevent a repeat of the tragedy. What counts for us is the cure, and that is something in which we must all have a hand if the republic is to be renewed.”

  “Someone else said much the same to me recently,” Chamberlain said, recalling Lincoln’s words.

  They rode in silence for a long time, Chamberlain catching glimpses of the stars overhead through the thick tree cover and thinking on what Hancock had said. Had he included Chamberlain when Hancock spoke of all of them having to work for the new republic? It seemed wrong to expect men such as this to sacrifice while Chamberlain sought safe passage back to Maine to hide among those who knew him. But Chamberlain’s mind kept shying away from the answer. He was not a military man. He had studied history and read some manuals, but that was the extent of his knowledge of war.

  The night and the forest seemed interminable, stretching forever, Chamberlain’s belly painfully reminding him of how long it had been since he last ate. But none of those around him complained, and Chamberlain felt a reluctance to appear weaker than them.

  Finally the large group of mounted men rode out onto a wider road, then not long afterwards into a town in which a few windows still showed lights despite the late hour.

  The group broke up, men dismounting and heading in all directions with the horses, Chamberlain staying with Armistead and Hancock as the two headed for a large house. Inside, food awaited the men, along with another officer whom Hancock saluted. “Objective accomplished, colonel. No casualties.”

  “Good. The raid I led against a federal depot near Manassas was also successful as more than another diversion. We acquired a number of new rifles and a good supply of shot and powder. Captain Armistead, I am gratified that we were able to prevent you from being subjected to a miscarriage of justice.”

  Armistead saluted as well. “Unfortunately, the miscarriage goes deeper than imprisonment. I was also stripped of rank and expelled from the service.”

  Hancock chuckled. “Damn it all, Lo, the Army of the New Republic can always use another captain, especially one as good as you.”

  “I concur,” the colonel agreed. He turned toward Chamberlain. “And you are, sir?”

  “Professor Joshua Chamberlain.” Chamberlain shook hands with the colonel, feeling awkward, and trying desperately not to lunge toward the food resting on a nearby table. “You are a professional soldier, too, sir?”

  Mosby looked offended. “Not I. You see before you a former felon and a former lawyer.”

  “And yet a damned decent human being nonetheless,” Hancock observed. “As well as the most brilliant master of unorthodox tactics I have ever encountered.”

  “How did you end up here?” Chamberlain asked as Mosby waved him to a seat at the table. With more control than he thought he could muster, Chamberlain began to eat and drink slowly.

  “I might ask the same of you, sir.” Mosby shrugged, then smiled. “There is plenty to eat here. Do not stint yourself. I know the government does not care to waste money on feeding prisoners bound for the plantations. As you have also doubtless discovered, professor, an independent mind is not a virtue in the eyes of our current government. As one who served time in prison, and narrowly escaped time on a plantation myself, over a little matter of shooting a fellow student when I was much younger and more impulsive, I am keen on questions of justice. As a lawyer, this led me to attempt to defend those the government did not wish defended. A timely warning allowed me to escape my own arrest, and since then I have found other ways to fight tyranny.” Mosby patted the pistol by his side.

  “Yet we still do too little,” Hancock grumbled through a mouthful of chicken.

  “We cannot raise the Army of the New Republic overnight,” Mosby replied. “It takes time and training, and the need to do all in secrecy while the government hunts us further complicates the task.”

  “Secrecy, indeed,” Armistead commented. “I have heard little but rumors of your actions in this part of Virginia.”

  “Control of the press makes it an ally of the government in hiding inconvenient facts,” Mosby remarked. “We have caused our rulers trouble enough already, and we are not alone, Captain Armistead. The Army of the New Republic grows in silence, mostly in states to the north but elsewhere as well. The Texican Republic has not been subdued. Every time the US Army defeats one of their armies, Sam Houston raises a new army. California remains in contention despite officially being part of the country. The Californians keep fighting, and they divert enough gold from official accounts to allow them to buy weapons and support from overseas.”

  Hancock nodded. “The army of the west isn’t making much progress in California what with the freedom fighters in Kansas Territory harassing their supply lines, and the Mormon militias doing the same through Deseret.” He grinned. “Nor can having that damned fool McClellan in command help them.”

  “Especially with Early commanding in Texas,” Mosby agreed. “Both of them have their own eyes on the White House, neither wants the other to gain it, and so they work against each other. Our enemies can be the best friends of liberty.”

  Armistead now looked from Hancock to Mosby. “I would join your army, if you will have me. The cause is just, and I hated not being in the same army as you, Win.”

  Hancock smiled again. “I felt the same, Lo.”

  “We will do a formal swearing-in tomorrow,” Mosby said. “We also have some new enlisted recruits. We’re staying in this town another day to rest, then we will move on before the federals hear of our location.”

  The next day Chamberlain watched Armistead and a collection of men of varied ages take the oath to join the Army of the New Republic. Soon afterwards, Captain Buford led out a mounted patrol to scout for activity by the federals. Chamberlain feared feeling isolated among these soldiers, but they made him welcome, asking about sentiment in Maine regarding the federal government. Though Chamberlain assured them that Maine was no less discontented than any other state, he felt a growing sense of personal dissatisfaction, a feeling that he should be doing something to match the dedication of these men to liberty.

  That evening Chamberlain was pleased to be invited to dine with Mosby, Hancock and Armistead again. He spoke little, listening instead as the three officers spoke casually of past battles and experiences. Chamberlain felt as if he were in a play or a dream, or somehow cast into the past, seated among English barons from the days of King John, or Roundheads in the time of Charles I, or even beside Lafayette as the French cavalier sat with Washington himself. Surely those combatants of old had spoken like this, shared the same humor and the same tales of misfortune or success, as they had discussed the overthrow of the corrupt monarchs of their time. No, it felt more like being among the Patriots themselves, those who had plotted revolution in taverns in Boston. We mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.

  “You seem pensive this evening, sir,” Mosby observed.

  Jarred from his reverie, Chamberlain nodded, smiling slightly. “I was thinking, sir, of the last time a man named Hancock plotted rebellion against unjust and unelected authority.”

  Major Hancock leaned back in his seat, grinning. “I never could sign my name as well as that other Hancock, but I don’t think he could sit a horse half so well as me, so I’ve no grounds for complaint.”

  “John Hancock was also wealthy,” Armistead pointed out.

  “I am wealthy in friends,” Hancock declared, “and if any of you sons of bitches dare to disagree that you are my friend then I will see you on the field on honor and blow your damned fool head off.”

  They were still laughing when a quick knock announced the arrival of a volunteer soldier, who whispered a message to Colonel Mosby. “We have a visitor,” Mosby announced to the o
thers. “Bring him in,” he ordered. The soldier went to the door and beckoned to someone outside, then held the door before leaving as a dour-looking man entered and nodded gruffly to everyone.

  “James?” Hancock asked in surprise. “I’ll be damned.”

  “Doubtless,” the visitor answered. “Long time, Win.”

  “Yes, it has been a long time.” Hancock glanced at Mosby and Chamberlain. “This is Captain James Longstreet, West Point class of ’42. I haven’t heard much of you recently, James.”

  “I left the army over a year ago.” Longstreet sat where Mosby indicated and stretched out his legs with a sigh, gratefully accepting the offer of food and drink. “It was either that or shoot my commanding officer.”

  “Early?” Armistead asked.

  “Nah. I would have shot Early, and then left. I was under McClellan. Useless is too kind a word. He’s got his eyes on the White House, and is so scared of not getting it that he won’t fight a battle he might lose. Which is every battle.” Longstreet grinned derisively. “I didn’t know you were with this bunch, Lo.”

  “I just came in from a prison train, headed for the plantations.”

  Longstreet stared glumly at Armistead for a moment before shaking his head. “There you have it. When an officer like you can be sent to the plantations, what have we come to? I couldn’t support it any longer.”

  “I heard you had gone back to Alabama,” Hancock offered.

  “Yeah, tried that. It wasn’t really home though. Besides, you know me, Win. Wherever I am, folks start wishing I was somewhere else. My opinions are too well known because I can’t keep my mouth shut. The federals came looking for me and the local authorities in the south all thought locking me up sounded like a good idea since they and the federals march to the same tune. I headed north through Tennessee and Kentucky until I found a bunch of like-minded folks in Illinois, where the federal government isn’t so well regarded. Do you remember Grant, Win?”

  “Grant? Ulysses? He left the service about ten years ago, didn’t he?”