Horrible Harvest

It was ’63. Company K’d been put under General Bragg’s command. He was a real sumbitch, he was. You could shake a dozen sticks in every direction ‘fore you’d find a single soul who’d have either a kind or neutral word on the man. But, he was who he was, a fucking general, so we was made to follow his shit orders.

On this particular occasion, we was ordered to burn Bridgeport to the ground. At the time, it was under the control of the Confederacy. We’d wrestled it away from the Bluebellies, but only for the tiniest of time. Soon as word come that Rosecrans was headed our way with what we was told was 10,000 men, Bragg decided fortifying the little town didn’t make near as much sense as just turning it to ash. So, Company K was directed to scuttle what folks remained out of the port city and round up provisions worth rounding up ‘fore the first match was lit.

The most prosperous of the stay-behinds was a group of eight women and a fella who run a whore house, known as the Tennessee River Cathedral. It was a place where soldiers from both sides could find absolution and crotch rot for the price of one. The fella went by the name Brother Jones, and he’d greet visitors with his favorite Bible verse.

“I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil — this is God’s gift to man.”

He’d then walk you to the mantle above the fireplace, direct your attention to his jarful of human ears and recite his second favorite biblical nonsense.

“But if there is harm, then you shall pay life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, stripe for stripe.”

He’d then add, “Harm in this case is taking what you ain’t paid for. You don’t pay for time here. You pay for this act and that. You act in a way you ain’t put up funds for, I take that to mean you ain’t heard this here warning. So, I take your ear. Get it? One fella who come through here, he wondered why I don’t take peckers, but I’ll be honest, I think that’s a bit beyond proper compensation. Besides, I would find a jar of peckers above my fireplace just plain unseemly.”

The cathedral – which was a two-story house that’d once been home to travelers looking for boarding in their journey westward – wasn’t far off the banks of the Tennessee river. If you stood on the back property, you could barely hear your own thoughts over the screech of annual cicadas.

I was give orders to take Evers, Yates, and Felix to the cathedral and appropriate any supplies I deemed vital to help replenish our company’s provisions. Captain Doc didn’t trust sending any more than four of us because of the lure of the ladies, and I am sure giving a whispered sodomite charge of leading a raid on a whorehouse was part of his strategic thinking, too.

He never questioned me about the gossip that flitted from one soldier to the next about my rumored appetites. I assume it was because he didn’t want to know. Questions woulda led to disciplinary actions that woulda deprived him of a man under his command who he trusted. On top of that, abled bodies was hard to find in war that was cranking out disabled bodies at a record pace.

When we arrived at the cathedral, a few members of Georgia’s 5^th regiment was skipping out the front door. Seeing them, I thought we’d arrived a touch too late to collect supplies, but then I noticed they carried smiles and crabs, but little else as they exited the house. For every step they took, they tugged at their crotches with such urgency I half-expected them to set the entirety of their groins on fire.

Brother Jones seen us approach and stood in the open doorway. He was a hunched-over fella of frail physique. He was most likely in his mid-30s, but his crooked spine give him the stance of an old man who struggled with getting around. He had him menace in the form of the Bowie knife and Remington revolver that stuck out the waistband of his britches. His neck was so craned forward, it was near impossible not to gaze upon the crown of his head as he greeted you.

“Boys,” he said, his voice sounding strained, most likely from the effort it took for him just to remain among the living.

“Sir,” I said. “We are – ”

He cut me off to deliver the first of his Bible verses.

“Fine, sir. Thank you, sir. But we don’t come here seeking – Pleasure. We’re here in search of provisions.”

“Provisions? Why my ladies can provide you with all you need, young fella. They have enough provisions for each and every one of you.”

“Well, hell-fire,” Evers said. “Ain’t a thing wrong with that. You can count me in – ”

I grabbed holt of his shoulder before he could take more than two steps toward the door.

“We ain’t interested in such – Goods,” I said. “Food – Flour, beans, rice, any such sundry is what is of import to us at this point in time.”

“Is it now?”

“It is.”

“How much?

“Sir?”

“How much will you be paying me for my flour, beans, rice and sundries?”

“You will be reimbursed, of course – ”

“Not what I asked. How much? I said.”

“You’ll be paid fair market value – ”

He laughed. “Ain’t no such thing as a fair market in a war.”

“That’s for you and the camp quartermaster to decide, sir. We’re here to procure provisions and leave you a written accounting of all the items we take.”

“You take my stuff, and I get a piece of paper?”

“That’s right.”

“I can’t read.”

“Well, sir the quartermaster can.”

“So – ” He stopped to let out a big ol’ laugh. “So, I’m to let you take my hard-earned belongings, and you’re to give me a piece of paper I can’t read. Then this quartermaster fella, he’s gonna say this is worth that, and that is worth this? And all the while, I can’t even be sure you recorded everything on this piece of paper you’re to give me because I can’t read?”

“Mr. Jones – ”

“That’s Brother Jones, Mr. General. I am involved in a deep, abiding commitment with our heavenly Father, and I’d appreciate it if you’d pay tribute to that goddamn devotion, son.”

“That’d be fine, sir, and you should address me as Corporal Tennyson – ”

“Corporal?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You mean they didn’t even have the decency to send a general to steal my stuff?”

“Nobody is stealing nothing, sir. Fact is, we’s doing you a favor. General Bragg’s ordered the town evacuated and burnt. The more we confiscate today, the less you’ll have to pack up for your travels.”

“Well, ain’t you kind. You’re gonna rob me ‘fore you burn my cathedral down.”

“We’ve come back around to where we started on this conversation,” I said. “I ain’t got hope we can avoid making this loop a number more times.”

“Meaning?”

“We’ll be entering your house – Cathedral. We’ll take what’s needed, and I’ll leave you an accounting for the quartermaster.”

“And what makes you think I’d let a thing like that happen?”

“Numbers, sir. They’s four of us and one of you.”

“You best look up to the second floor, Corporal Tenn-y-son.”

I did as suggested and seen no fewer than five rifles poking out three windows. All aimed at us.

“My girls can shoot. Don’t think otherwise.”

“I’m sure they can. Can they think things ahead? That’s the question you need to be asking.”

“What’re you driving at, son?”

“Bridgeport is currently playing host to Major General Braxton Bragg. He has thousands of men under his command. Your five rifles can take a good number of we four out, but against thousands – ” I gazed up at the three windows, “Well, where do you lay your odds, ladies? Five guns against thousands?”

“You underestimate the value of my cathedral, Corporal Tenn-y-son, and the services provided, herein. Retribution for killing you might not be met with the enthusiasm you imagine.”

“And you underestimate the hour we’ve reached in this war, Brother Jones. We’re but a tick and a tock away from dire times, and if we find ourselves without proper provisions when the final bell tolls, woe to the false prophet and his whores who proved to be obstacles to victory. A noose would be the judgement of mercy if such a time was to come, and I can tell you with some authority, mercy ain’t a thing in great abundance these days. Punishments, I’m sorry to say, have grown ugly, sir. Compassion was a casualty of this war long ago.”

One by one, the rifles disappeared from the windows.

Recognizing his threats had lost their muster, Brother Jones said, “Our food stores are ‘round back – In an old shack. Take all you want. Can’t stop you otherwise.”

“We’ll take what we need and no more,” I said, ‘fore directing the others to follow me to the shack.

“Mind the one-eyed man sleeping on the cot. He’ll give you no trouble. He’s just passing through.”

I stopped and turnt to him. “The one-eyed man?”

“He’s just a traveler – One in good stead with the Confederacy. I’ll vouch for him if need be.”

I let the others march ahead of me as I give thought to the idea that the one-eyed man was the last person I had desire to come across. It was a big war with a lot of men missing eyes, so the possibility that Horace Tennyson was the man taking up residence in the shack was slim at best, but as it turns out, not slim enough.