Horrible Harvest

We left the woman to the Yankee dogs. They kilt her boy and then gunned her down. Wasn’t much to stick around for after that.

It would be nightfall ‘fore we reached Company K’s encampment. I was directly marched to Captain Doc’s tent, where he give me a cold greeting. He had rights to suspect I’d deserted or that I’d been kilt or captured. The possibility that I’d smoked enough opium to skip three days’ worth of time didn’t even form a bubble of thought in his head.

He give me some of the sloosh he’d prepared for himself and begun his interrogation.

“The doctor, what was his diagnosis?”

I give his question a great deal of thought ‘fore I said, “Malnutrition,” and held up a portion of his cornmeal and bacon grease concoction.

“Yes, well, when an army must choose between bullets and food, bullets win the day.”

“Thing is we’s running low on bullets, too.”

“We make do, lad. We make do – Do I need to concern myself with your commitment to this army, Mr. Tennyson?”

“No, sir. You do not.”

“I am told you eat no breakfast.”

“I’ve had more than my fill of salt beef covered in hair and riddled with gristle.”

“I do not like this attitude, corporal.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your performance in the field of battle is exemplary, but your adherence to military life outside of engagement with the enemy is lacking.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ve rights to try you for desertion.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But I will not. You’ve earned a certain amount of leniency and the benefit of the doubt.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t thank me. Just perform at the level at which I know you capable and justify my faith in you.”

I didn’t give him no fuss back. The word ‘faith’ needled at me. I hated the fire out of such a notion, and I didn’t think much of a fella that holds to it.

“Mr. Evers tells me there was a skirmish.”

“I don’t know if you can even call it a skirmish.”

“Three Union dead? That is the number I was given.”

“Yes, sir, and two civilians.”

“Civilians? I was not apprised of civilian deaths.”

“A boy and his mother.”

He appeared downhearted. “Felled by us or them?”

“Them, sir. The boy got caught in the crossfire.”

“And his mother?”

“Gunned down.”

“With intent?”

“Yes, sir. She armed herself – ”

“Animals – Do you know the regiment?”

“No, sir, but they’ve integrated colored troops within their ranks – ”

His face went bright red. “Colored troops?”

“Saw one. It may be there ain’t but one among them  – ”

“Was he armed?”

“He was, sir. Yes, sir.”

He sat back in his chair and repeatedly balled his hands into fists and then loosened his grip. “Did you see him engage his weapon?”

I give pause before clearing my throat and saying, “Yes, sir. I did.”

“He dare fire upon Confederate soldiers?”

“No, sir.”

“But he did fire his weapon?”

“He did, sir. Yes, sir.”

He give me a long, hard look. “What are you not saying, corporal?”

“As I said, sir, the woman – She armed herself – ”

He stood. “A colored Union soldier shot a Confederate civilian – A woman – A mother grieving the loss of her child?”

“Yes, sir. Under orders by his command, sir. I heard it – They ordered him to fire.”

“Villainy,” the captain shouted. “This is the servile insurrection we’ve said all along was upon us – This is why Company K has been given special charge to bring these treasonous bastards to face the fires of justice – ”

“Yes, sir, but – ”

“But what, corporal?”

“Forgive me, Captain, but did we not do the same – shoot a civilian – a woman just – Not even a year ago – Did you not shoot her? Private Jeffries grandmother – ”

He stared at me with the menace of a demon. “She was found to have provided aid and comfort to the enemy.”

“Found, sir?”

“She wounded a recruit. She altered measures that would have added to our numbers and bolstered the defense of our country. The decision was made that her actions were traitorous.”

“Yes, sir, but who made the decision?”

“Do not ask me a question for which you know the answer.”

“I only ask ‘cause you say it in a way that suggests that someone above you give the order. Wasn’t no rank above you. I was there.”

“Mr. Tennyson, if you think I do not own my decision on that day, you are sadly mistaken, boy. I did what my rank required – My rank, private. Such a thing – it is not a symbolic designation. It is a position that requires that I commit sometimes disturbing and unholy acts in service of the greater good. It was a command decision. My command. Are you questioning my command?”

“No, sir. I’m just trying to get a handle on the where fors and the what nots of this war.”

“Get a handle on this, corporal. Mrs. Jeffries took up arms against us, and this woman you witnessed murdered by a colored Yankee took up arms against our enemy. We cut down the former and defend the latter. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” he said as he stood and begun to dress for battle. “Muster the company. We’ve work to do.”

“Sir?”

“This act of treason cannot stand. We are going to bring this negro to justice. Time is of the essence.”

I didn’t move.

“Muster the company, corporal.”

“I don’t understand the order, sir.”

“What do you find difficult to understand? Our charge is to find insurrectionists – ”

“But this particular insurrectionist was in a Yankee uniform. He is embedded within the Union army, sir. We have no idea if he’s joined by a company, a brigade, or an entire division. We don’t know what we’re walking into – ”

“Standing down is not an option, Mr. Tennyson. Muster the troops, or I will have you shackled and court-martialed for dereliction of duty.”

 I didn’t give no hesitation upon hearing his threat. In the end, I didn’t give a fuck if we was being marched to our slaughter. Let the captain lead us to our graves. It would, at least, bring an end to the war – for we, the dead. Ain’t got no idea what’s on the other side of this world, but I got a high level of suspicion it’s absent the bullshit I got born into.