GLORY II Chapter 2

Chapter 2

  Although she knew for certain that her father would take a strap to her for again disobeying him, especially in view of the stern look he had given her at the supper table, for some overpowering reason, Laura was unwillingly drawn towards the Yankee camp.  For half an hour or more she had paced back and forth behind the barn trying to resist the powerful urge to return to the hillside, but her thoughts kept returning to the prisoners, to one prisoner in particular.  Now, once again hidden in the blackberry thicket overlooking the enemy camp, she mentally scolded herself for being so weak minded.  The searing sun was beginning to settle beneath the hilltop behind her and twilight’s shadows were already racing down across the wide valley below.

  Just as she had made up her mind to abandon her silent vigil and turned to head for home, a sudden noise and flickering movement to her left brought her to a quick halt.  Squatting down further and deeper into the thick briar patch, she curiously watched as a young Yankee soldier made his way cautiously through the darkening scrub oak, finally coming to rest in a hidden open spot no more than twenty feet from her.  For ten minutes or more the small soldier simply stood in place surveying the camp below, listening attentively for the slightest sound, his head moving back and forth in quick jerking moves.  Evidently satisfied that he was safely alone in his privacy, the soldier began to remove his trousers in preparation for a personal toilet.

  Suddenly blushing, Laura turned her head to look in the other direction, embarrassed but not eager to give away her hidden position. Wild thoughts of being ravished by the soldier entered her mind as she was forced to listen to the satisfied grunts as he completed his toilet.  Laura held her breath in fear of being overheard as her racing thoughts blossomed into shameful detail in her ever-active imagination.  She began to chastise herself for being such a fool, such a curious and scatterbrained fool.

  Finally, hearing the sounds of movement and the clink of something like metal against metal, Laura risked a quick glance in the direction of the soldier.  To her relief he sat comfortably against a small tree taking a thirsty drink from his canteen.  The sight and thought of water made Laura's mouth taste dry and cottony.  The twilight was deepening and more fires had begun to spring up throughout the scattered camp below.  She kept one eye on the soldier and another on the camp, afraid the soldier would never leave his comfortable spot against the tree.

  Suddenly, the small soldier stood and removed his heavy wool jacket, hanging it on a convenient limb of the small tree.  Beneath his jacket he wore a tattered and stained blouse, which he also pulled over his head, shook violently, and hung across the same tree limb.  Freed of the encumbrance of his coat and blouse, the little soldier began to unwind what appeared to be a wide wound bandage covering his upper chest, although Laura could see no signs of blood or other stains.  Finally, the wide bandage fully removed, the small soldier stood and began to knead and massage himself.  Shocked to the depth of her being, Laura could only stare open mouthed as the little soldier moaned in pure ecstasy and pleasure as he rubbed and squeezed what were all to obviously the mature breasts of a female.

  In her sudden shock, Laura stood and yelped in pain as her unruly hair was caught and held tight by the thick, sharp thorns of a briar bush.  The small soldier instinctively crossed both arms over his breasts and yelled, "Who's there!" his wide eyes quickly spotting Laura as she sought in vain to free herself.

  "Who are you, girl?" he asked, quickly closing the distance between them and glancing furtively around in every direction like a cornered animal.

  Suddenly regaining her composure, Laura went down on both knees in order to pry loose the thick briar holding her long hair in its unrelenting grasp.  "I'm Laura Jean Tyree," she replied. "Who in blazes are you?"

  "Private Albert D.J. Cashier of the 95th Illinois Infantry," the little soldier responded, sounding as if he had repeated that answer on numerous occasions, or had even practiced it over and over again.

  "You're no Albert," Laura emphatically stated, pointing at the obvious signs of femininity, which the small soldier had unconsciously failed to cover in his rush to Laura's presence.

  "Real name's Jenny Hodges," the soldier finally admitted, reaching into her pocket for a folding knife that she opened and used to cut the thick briar vine from Laura's hair.  With Laura freed, Jenny turned and walked back to her tree where she had dropped the wide bandage, picked it up and begin to wind it back around her breasts, flattening them down to look more like the muscular chest of a man.

"Not going to give me away, are ya?" she asked, as Laura slowly approached her.

  A thousand questions entered Laura's mind at the same time but all she could respond with was, "Why?"

  Jenny's quick come back was a simple, "Why not?"

  Why any woman would want to pretend to be a man, to become a soldier, to live among rowdy men, to fight in horrible battles, to suffer the agony and hardships of an army on the move while constantly in fear of your dark secret being discovered, was completely beyond Laura's comprehension.  Hers was an orderly world of family, wife, home and children.  No room in it for crazy, totally bazaar, simply outrageous and incomprehensible actions such as this.  This went far beyond anything she had ever thought of, even in her wildest dreams.

  "I was rubbing my breasts because the binding hurts after a spell," Jenny replied, donning her blouse and heavy jacket.  "Weren't nothin' other than that."  She continued to look imploringly at Laura as if seeking or needing approval and recognition from another female.  Close inspection revealed that she was actually smaller than Laura originally thought and now armed with the knowledge that this enemy soldier was not what the eyes truly beheld, Laura began to notice other small details of femininity.  Although plain and common of appearance in the face and certainly no real beauty by most standards, her eyes and the upward tilt of her nose bespoke of prettiness if properly applied make-up were to be used.  Definitely as pretty as or prettier than some girls Laura knew.  How she managed to fool hundreds of men was beyond Laura's ability to understand, and the why of it still eluded her.

  "I've never belonged to anything in my life before," Jenny stated.  "The 95th Illinois is my home, my family, everything I care about.  The only way I could be with them, to go where they went, to belong, was to pretend to be a man.  I joined up as Albert Cashier at Camp Fuller back in ‘62, been with the 95th ever since.  And you know something else?" she emphasized, "I ain't never regretted my decision, not one single time."

  Finally over the initial shock and for some unknown reason beginning to develop a friendly feeling towards Jenny, Laura got up enough nerve to ask her, "What about the killing and dying, doesn't that bother you?  Lord knows, I could never kill anyone."

  Don't know as how I ever kilt anyone," Jenny replied, offering her canteen to Laura who accepted it with eagerness.  "Most fights I been in, and there ain't been a whole lot, I just point the end of my gun in the direction everybody else is pointing and pull the trigger.  So many's firing I can't tell if I done hit anything or not.  'Sides, after the first shots are fired 'bout all we're shooting at is a cloud of powder smoke on the other side of the field.  Never been up real close and fightin' like some of the boys brag on.  Most of soldering I reckon ain't the fightin’; it's goin' from place to place, camping, cooking, standing guard, moving to another place and camping again."

  "But what if they catch you?" Laura questioned.  "I mean, what will they do to you if they find out you're a girl?"  Her voice held more concern in it than Jenny had ever felt before and the unusual feeling warmed Jenny inside.  When she replied, she sounded more like a caring sister than a Union soldier.

  "Oh, I ain't the only one," she stated.  "Rumor was they's a girl up in old Virginnie caught pretending to be a soldier in one of Little Mack's outfits.  She was so well-liked by the men they simply let her hang around with them afterwards.  Course, they took her uniform and such and made her wear women's clothes, but she went with them wherever they went and helped cook and clean and such.  Reckon that's about all would happen to me was I to get caught.  Fellers of the 95th already took a real liking to me."

  The two continued to talk; so wrapped up in their conversation and in each other’s company that they lost all sense of time.  Laura was fascinated by the stories of army life Jenny told her, and obversely, Jenny was enthralled by the warmth and beauty and serenity of a family life that she had never had.  They were finally brought back to reality when a loud commotion in the camp below broke the spell of friendly companionship they were enjoying.

  "Lordy mercy!" Laura exclaimed, suddenly realizing that full darkness had overtaken them without their even noticing it.  "Pa's gonna skin me alive."  She knew beyond a doubt her father would be out and about looking all over for her, his anger barely held in check, the fury of his wrath near the boiling point.  Although he hadn't strapped her since she had become a woman, she had really never given him justifiable cause to do so either.  Suddenly, her growing fear of his overpowering anger was all she could think about.

  "They's men with torches walking around the camp," Jenny stated, as if that was very unusual.  "Appears they's looking for somebody or something."

  They watched the figures moving about silhouetted by the flickering light from the many campfires.  Suddenly, Laura caught sight of a tall, imposing figure at the head of half a dozen men.  Although it was far too dark, and the distance too great to distinguish individual features, she knew beyond doubt that the tall figure was her father, for his ambling and fast-paced stride was one of the sure things that singled him out from other men.  She took a deep breath, her heart skipped a beat, raw fright enveloped her entire being, and she shuddered involuntarily.

  To return home now and try to pretend she was nowhere near the Yankee camp would be impossible.  For some unknown reason she had never been capable of lying to her father, not that she hadn't thought of doing so on many small trivial matters.  She simply knew that her eyes would always betray her just as they had done earlier that day at the supper table.  No, the only thing she could possibly do now was to let him know where she was and pray that his explosive temper would be held in check, at least until they reached the calming interference of her mother.

  "They're looking for me, Jenny," she finally stated.  That's my Pa in your camp and he's there looking for me."

  "What are you gonna do," Jenny asked, worry and concern heavy in her voice.  It was a long few minutes before Laura finally replied, but when she did it was with a sigh of resignation.

  "I have to go down and let him know where I am.  Will you take me down to your camp Jenny?"

  "Yes," Jenny replied, "and it's ‘Albert,’ Laura, remember?  Make sure you call me Albert.  We'll swing around to where the 95th is and I'll pretend I held you up from going home if you think it will help.  Mayhap your Pa won't be so harsh on you if we make it appear like you had no choice in the matter."

  The short walk down the gently sloping hill took no more than five minutes but to Laura it seemed like an eternity.  As soon as they reached the perimeter of the Yankee camp, her nostrils were once again assaulted by a hundred different smells, and her ears tingled with a symphony of new sounds.  The rich smell of fresh horse manure was dominant closely followed by that of acrid wood smoke, burning tobacco, and oddly enough, steaming leather.  The sounds were predominately the voices of hundreds of men, crackling firewood, and the lonely sound of someone playing a mouth harmonica, the tune new to her, but sad and sounding of home and loved ones in some far off place.

  As they slowly picked their way through the sprawling camp, only an occasional soldier would look up from his warm fire and greet them with a simple nod or turning of the head.  Laura came to an abrupt stop at the sight she saw as they walked around the end of several large supply wagons near the far edge of the camp.

  Two men were hanging from the low limbs of a sturdy oak tree, their hands tied behind their backs, the ropes leading from their wrists to the limb above bending their arms back and upward in what had to be pure agony.  A third man was tied upside down against a large wagon wheel, his head no more than a few feet from a small simmering fire, the skin of his face already red and blistered from the heat of the slowly burning coals.

  All three had obviously been whipped, for raw, bleeding lines crisscrossed their backs and rib cages, their shirts torn into ribbons.  Near the men, now recognizable as the four Confederate prisoners, stood four Negro soldiers, the Negro sergeant who had earlier whipped them holding a burning brand in his hand as if he was preparing to use it on the helpless captives. 

  Off to the right, casually sitting around a blazing fire and carefully sipping hot coffee or tea from soot blackened mugs, sat two white officers, their faces impartial and uncaring as if nothing more was happening than a quiet leisurely evening.  Sitting next to them was the fourth Confederate man, obviously a traitor and not a prisoner of war.

Without conscious thought, spurred only by the sight of the suffering men and nonchalance of the officers and unaware of the seething anger building within her, like her father's daughter, Laura rushed forward and began to throw wild blows at the two officers who stood and quickly backed away in self-defense, shocked by the sudden and unexpected appearance and fiery rage of the young girl in their midst.

  Laura, her tender knuckles bruised from the heads and hard muscles of the officers, repeated over and over again, "animals, animals, and animals!"  As tears clouded her eyes and frustration dulled her impulsive anger, one of the officers grabbed her arms and held her pinned down to protect himself from her stinging blows. 

With a sudden and unexpected surge of strength, Laura broke free, but in doing so lost her balance and fell back heavily on her backside to the hard packed earth.

  At first disoriented and dazed by the sudden fall, Laura looked up from her un-lady like position on the ground into the fiery eyes and angry flushed face of her father standing no more than ten feet across the blazing fire from her.  To his right and slightly behind him stood the Yankee General Sturgis, his pudgy face glowing red from the flickering light of the flames.  Speechless and unable to move, Laura could do nothing more than stare back at her father, her peripheral vision capturing Jenny's shocked face standing to the rear of the small gathering.

  "In the name of the Almighty!" Reverend Tyree bellowed, "What are you doing, daughter?"  He slowly walked towards her, but as he rounded the fire he suddenly caught sight of the suffering prisoners hanging from the bending tree limb and the blistered face of the man tied to the wagon wheel.  If at all possible, his eyes grew even wider as he caught sight of the colored sergeant standing next to one prisoner, his black face shinning from the fire light; arrogance, hatred, and defiance dominating his features.

  Now, fully aware of why his daughter had been found in such an uncompromising position, for he was, if anything, a very astute man and knew instantly she had been fighting the evil before her, he turned his rage onto the man responsible for this affront to both men and God.

  "You will explain this," he yelled, his arm extended and pointing directly at the suffering prisoners, his entire body shaking from uncontrollable fury, his chest heaving like the bellows of a blacksmith.

  General Sturgis, just as shocked and overwhelmed by the sight before him as the Reverend, was totally speechless, his squinting eyes bouncing from face to face until he finally bore down on the two white officers standing nervously next to Laura.

  "Release those men," he ordered, addressing both officers.  "Who is responsible for this outrage, this atrocity?" he continued, his gaze still riveting the two men, his own temper now beyond control.

  "Can't do that General," a voice spoke from the shadows behind them.  The Negro sergeant moved into the firelight and repeated the words.  "Can't do that, them's my prisoners."

  Laura thought the General was going to explode, his chest swelled until the buttons on his jacket were ready to pop off.  His eyes became tiny dots in a red balloon face, his hands clinched tight until the knuckles turned white, and thick pulsating veins popped out on his bull neck like writhing snakes.  Again he addressed the two officers and screamed, "Get this African baboon out of my camp!  Get all your nigra soldiers out of my camp. Tonight! Now! Do you hear me?"

  "Where will we go, Sir?" one of the young officers had the audacity to ask the raging general.  "There's Rebs all over the place out there," he continued, pointing at the darkness beyond the fire.

  Gaining a degree of control over his temper, General Sturgis replied.  "You will take your nigra soldiers out of my camp immediately.  If you're lucky enough to make it back to Memphis, you will tell Colonel Bouton that I shall personally attend to this disgusting matter immediately upon my return.  Am I being clear, Lieutenant?"