Horrible Harvest

The makeshift tent was not hard to spot. It was as the tosspot had said. Large. Especially in comparison to the other tents that surrounded it. Before we reached it, Captain Doc turned to Hicks. “Sargeant, hang back. Conceal yourself.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Keep a watch.”

“For what, sir?”

“Bad business.”

“What sort of bad business, sir?”

“I don’t know, but I’m of the mind it’s about to show itself. Be on alert.”

“Roger, Captain.”

Hicks stepped behind a row of tents before we turned down the final stretch of a path to the large tent. A haggard soldier was posted at the entrance.

“I expect you’re the fellas I was told about.”

“I expect,” Captain Doc answered. “Are you serving as sentinel to the General?”

There was a long pause before the soldier replied, “Can’t say for certain. I ain’t sure what a sentinel is.”

“You’re his guard?”

“Oh. Nah. I’m just to stand here ‘til you arrive. Then I’m to tell the Colonel you’re here.”

“The Colonel?”

“Stockton. He’s inside.”

“We were given explicit orders to speak with General Miller directly.”

“I can’t say nothing on that. All I was told to do was to tell the Colonel you’re here.”

“Then on with it. Fulfill you’re duty.”

“Fulfill my duty?”

“Tell the Colonel we are here, soldier.”

“Oh. Right.” He stepped back, pulled the flap of the tent half open and announced, “They’s here, Colonel Stockton, sir.”

A voice from inside responded, “Escort them in, Mr. Vance.”

The soldier turned back to the Captain. “I’m to escort you in.”

“I heard.”

No attempt was made to comply with the Colonel’s orders.

“Goddamn it, Vance! What the hell are you doing? Bring them inside!”

“Right.” The soldier pulled the flap of the tent all the way open and signaled for the captain and the rest of us to enter.

I brought up the rear of our group and had to duck my head to step inside. It’d been months since I last Mr. Miller’s advance man. He seemed smaller to me. I’d grown larger in that time, so it could be I just wasn’t used to going eye-to-eye with the giant man, but he looked withered to the bone, too. He weren’t as imposing as I’d remembered.

The unofficially minted colonel greeted the captain coldly. He towered over the tiny junior officer and didn’t spit out a word for an uncomfortable amount of time. Captain Doc took the silence and give back his own. He didn’t want to give up so much as a whisper without a single syllable coming up out of the advance man first. Seconds passed on into a minute and nothing more than some nervous coughs and hacks from the rest of us was offered up. Those of us who knew Mr. Miller’s advance man were waiting for the snake to strike. Being in his presence again was like being reintroduced to a dog who had once mauled you. You hoped to hell he ain’t got no more bites to give.

Finally, Mr. Stockton spoke. “This is how you dress to meet with General Miller?”

“Sir?” Captain Docherty asked.

“This is your everyday dress.”

The captain give us a look over. Turning back, he said, “Sir, these are our combat uniforms, sir. Standard, sir.”

“I know that, Captain. Do you think me stupid? This is your everyday dress. As I said. Your combat uniforms. Yet, you are about to meet General Cameron Miller, commanding officer of the finest brigade serving on either side of this conflict, and you dare to meet him dressed covered in the remnants of a march. You do not give him the respect of cleaning yourself up and donning your dress uniforms.”

“Sir?”

“Sir? Do you not see my insignia, Captain? Am I not both sir and colonel to you? You’ve not uttered my rank since entering this tent.”

“Yes. You are correct, colonel, sir. I do apologize.”

“Don’t apologize, you pathetic wretch. My God, man. How have you earned the command of a company? Tennyson here could do a better job of leading your company than you, and he’s an insignificant little rice-farmer with a slug for a father and a whore for a mother.”

I give him my gaze, blood on boil.

Mr. Stockton stepped to me. “Do you have something to say, Tennyson?”

I looked away because I didn’t have a goddamn thing to say to him. I had a blade for his throat and boot for his ass, but I didn’t have no interest in wasting a word on him.

Mr. Stockton shook his head in disgust. “They’ve softened you, boy. You are a shell of the Miller man you used to be.” He looked at the others. “The rest of you were always sorry excuses for Miller men, but Tennyson here, he had potential. Now, his training and lessons are burned away, and he is as useless as the whole lot of you put together. Even you, Kenneth.”

“Colonel, sir, with all due respect, I don’t think this behavior is becoming of an officer,” Captain Doc said.

“Undress,” Mr. Stockton growled.

We all shared a look.

“Now. Undress. Each of you. Peckers and toes, gentleman. Get’em out.” He clapped his hands. “That wasn’t an invitation. That was an order.”

“I don’t – I mean, Colonel Stockton, sir, I don’t understand the point.”

“Captain pathetic, if you question my orders one more time, I will have you hanged within the hour. Do you understand?”

Captain Doc hesitated before clearing his throat. “As ordered, men.” He worked to unbutton his jacket.

The rest of us stripped away our uniforms bit by bit. Mr. Stockton was a loon in normal times, but the war had turned up his crazy to a whole new level. He was a hundred proof madman

“Major,” Mr. Stockton yelled.

I leaned over to peel away my socks. I seen the boots of the major enter the tent. I didn’t think on it too much. Just some weathered old shit soldier without a speck of military training. Same as all the others in the phony brigade. But then I heard the sumbitch speak.

“Yes, sir, Colonel Stockton, sir.” It was Charles.