GLORY II Chapter 3

Chapter 3

  "You wasn't at Fort Pillow," the Negro sergeant yelled, again breaking into the conversation.  "You didn't see how these sesh scum kilt men what had surrendered.  You didn't see women’s crying as they kilt their children or threw them into the river to drown.  You didn't see Lieutenant Ackerstrom nailed to a wall and burned alive.  I was there.  I see it with my own two eyes."

  "Sergeant Major Bauer," General Sturgis yelled, calling for a regimental Sergeant Major, who magically appeared next to him.  "Get a detail and cut those prisoners down.  Make sure this man," he stabbed a pudgy finger at the colored sergeant, "is out of my camp post haste.  Also, Sergeant Major, see to it that you rip those sergeant stripes off his jacket before he leaves.  The man is a disgrace to the rank and privileges.  If it was within my power," he continued, turning to face the two white officers cowering behind the blazing fire, "I would see you both dishonorably cashiered from the service as well.  You have your orders," he finished, turning to face Reverend Tyree.  "I hope, good sir, this will assuage any further concerns you may still harbor about the sincerity of my actions as well as to the depth of my apology?"

  Without responding, Reverend Tyree walked over to assist the detail in releasing the suffering prisoners, all thoughts of Laura forgotten.  Throughout the entire exchange, Laura had sat unmoving on the muddy ground.  As her father strode past her without so much as a glance, she turned over and rose to her feet.  The first thing she saw was the face of the Negro sergeant, looking at her with venomous hatred.

  His withering stare told her that he would never forget her face, that someday, some way, he would have his revenge against her.  Her father's voice finally broke the spell created by the black man's hate-filled eyes.

  "General," he demanded, "these men need immediate medical attention.  I trained in the medical arts for a spell and I demand you release them into my care."

  "I regret, sir, that I cannot do that," General Sturgis replied.  "They are still under the Provost Marshall's authority as prisoners of war.  We do have several fine surgeons assigned to this expedition who will see to their care," he finished, in a conciliatory tone.

  "This one be an officer, Sir," a burley sergeant stated, pointing to one of the prisoners cut loose from the tree.  "Ain't right and proper he be mixed with enlisted."

  Taking his cue from the sergeant's words, Reverend Tyree spoke up once again.  "At least let me see to this young officer's care," he asked, seeing indecision on the face of General Sturgis. 

  The General, more than anxious to rid himself of the pesky Reverend and his feisty daughter, finally replied.  "If you give me your word as a man of God that he will be present when I leave for Memphis on the morrow, I will relent, sir, and place him into your custody."

  By way of reply, Reverend Tyree asked that someone be dispatched to retrieve his pram on the far side of the sprawling camp.  He then turned to Laura and finally spoke.  "Come, daughter," he said, with an unusually warm and comforting tone of voice.  "Help me get this young man ready to move to our home."

  An instant later, Laura's entire life changed forever.  Below her, sitting placidly on the hard ground, his features highlighted by the dancing light of the suddenly blazing fire, appeared the young Confederate Lieutenant she had seen from afar.

  She did not see the ugly, bleeding cuts on his back where the heavy mule strap had left neither its indelible mark, nor the dirty, torn uniform clinging to his muscular chest, but she did see his bright shining smile, the twinkle in his sky-blue eyes, and she felt a tremendous jolt flash throughout her entire body.

  Her throat constricted so she could barely breathe, the blood in her temples raced like a raging torrent, her heart pounded like savage drums.  Her knees became so weak she was certain she would collapse to the earth.  She no longer feared her father's potential anger, her bruised knuckles and sore bottom were completely forgotten.  She didn't even notice the broad smiling face of the little soldier of the 95th as she passed by in her short trip to the carriage.