Spake As a Dragon (18 page)

Death was common. Anywhere from ten to
fifteen prisoners died each day and were buried in the common
graveyard located just a few hundred yards north of the hospital.
Some mornings, the daily assignment was to bury the dead. At first
Robert would utter a silent prayer for the body he was throwing
dirt over, but it became so routine, he would throw the body into
it’s grave and shovel the dirt in without even thinking about the
task at hand. Occasionally, sitting on his bunk, he would think how
war had so de-humanized men, especially him. They each had only one
thing in common – survival, survival at any cost.

Over the past months thievery had
increased considerably. The low-life would slip among the tents
late at night, slit a hole and steal whatever they could easily
reach. Using a couple of the wooden cracker boxes, Robert
constructed a sort of cabinet where he and Ben stored what little
‘valuables’ they possessed. He secured the cabinet door with a
length of rope with one end tied to his foot. If someone tried to
untie the rope, he would feel the tug on his leg and pounce on the
intruder. Fortunately, no one ever cut into his tent. In Robert’s
starved, haggard condition, no doubt he would have killed the thief
without a second’s thought. Or, perhaps been killed
himself.

A few months after their arrival
Robert and Ben had saved up enough money to open their own little
‘business’ along Pennsylvania Avenue. They would buy molasses from
the Sutler, boil it down, roll it into small lengths and sell them
as molasses taffy at a half-dime per roll. Their store counter was
merely a couple of cracker boxes stacked one on the other, but they
did a brisk business. Robert and Ben traded turns – one day Robert
would work the store and Ben would go out on a work detail, the
next day they would reverse jobs.

One day Robert was whitewashing the
fence around the hospital when he saw one of the hospital orderlies
dumping the used grounds from the hospital’s coffee
pots.

Back in his tent he explained to Ben
what he had witnessed at the hospital fence. Together they devised
a plan to get under the fence, get the coffee grounds, and
hopefully escape back to their tents with their prize.

The next morning, Robert would
whitewash for a few minutes and when the guards would not be
looking he would work on a hole under the fence. This exercise
consumed most of the day. About an hour or so before quitting time
he caught the two guards standing around smoking their pipes and
talking to each other. Un-noticed, he slipped under the fence,
hurried to the garbage pile and scooped up as much coffee grounds
as he could get into a gunny sack before being
discovered.

The next day both work their store.
Standing in front of their store they announce, “Get your taffy
here! Hot coffee just a half-dime. Hot coffee, real coffee!” They
do a brisk business. There is no telling how many time those same
coffee grounds are boiled, but Robert and Ben collect a tidy little
sum of spending money.

Robert has another idea for their
store – flapjacks. He will purchase flour from the Sutler and make
flapjacks and serve them with a bit of thinned sorghum molasses.
However, to stretch his flour purchase Robert makes the flapjacks
rather thin – one day a customer orders a couple, holds one up to
the light and proclaims, “Darn, I believe I can read a newspaper
through these. I thought I had been hoodwinked by the best, but you
fellows beat’em all!” Needless to say, the flapjack business did
not last too long. Robert was relieved the flapjack business failed
– he had always considered himself to be an honest man and taking
advantage of poor destitute soldiers did not sit too well with him.
He believed surely, he could do better.

In the first week of December ’63, Ben
has developed a slight cough. At first they just contributed it to
the conditions under which they live, but it had progressively
gotten worse. Ben reports for ‘Sick Call.’ He is carried to the
hospital and examined by a Yankee doctor. The news is bad. He is
diagnosed with consumption. A disease officially called
Tuberculosis that will eventually get worse and the prognosis is
bad – it will be fatal.

As December 25th nears they are to
spend their first Christmas as prisoners of the Yankees. Ben is
constantly coughing, wheezing and sometimes cannot even arise from
his bunk. He is a miserable sight to see. Even tho’ they buy extra
rations, they aren’t wholesome enough, he is down to nothing but
skin and bones. Everyone knows the worse, Ben has tuberculosis and
he is nearing death. A few days before Christmas as Robert tries to
feed Ben a small bowl of potato skin broth Ben asks if Robert will
do him a favor.

“
Anything Ben, if it’s
within my power, just name it.”

“
Robert, I know I am dying
and will never see home again. For one last time, I would like to
have a Christmas tree. One like I used to have at home.”

“
My friend, if it is at
all possible a Christmas tree you will have.”

Twice a week details were sent outside
the walls to cut and gather firewood – it takes almost all the
money he and Ben have saved from their various business enterprises
to bribe the guard to allow him to go on the firewood detail.
Outside in the pine woods Robert finds a small cedar tree about
five feet tall. He cuts it along with the rest of the wood he
gathers that day.

Back at their tent, Robert stands the
little cedar tree upright, but he does not have anything with which
to decorate its branches. He remembers back at home his mother had
strung popcorn kernels together on a long string and drooped it
around the trees. He has not seen any popcorn in years, and surely
there is none in this camp.

Word quickly spread through the
stockade of the Christmas tree. Without hesitation, men with no
worldly goods begin to bring in the ‘ornaments.’ One has a few
scraps of red cloth another has cut a few pieces of tin from an old
metal box – the man’s most prized possession. One old fellow hangs
Confederate money he has rolled into springy coils. Lids from cans,
pieces of carved wood, one even donates a couple of candles. Pretty
soon they have the making of a ‘beautiful’ tree. Beauty has a
different meaning to a scraggly, bone-thin, dirty group of men who
are now the happiest they have been in years. One of them speaks to
Ben, “Sorry old fellow,” He says grinning. “I don’t believe Santa
is coming, I hear the Yanks saw his grey beard and figured he was a
Reb spy and shot him.”

Glancing around the tent wet tears of
happiness can be seen slowly flowing down dirty cheeks of the Sons
of the Confederacy into scraggly beards that have not been trimmed
in months. All gaze at the tree and remember Christmases of old.
They can see their children in their mind’s eye sitting around
their own tree at home. The fire burning brightly in their
fireplaces and all the rooms are cozy and warm. Later one old Reb
confides to Robert he thought he could actually smell the turkey
roasting in the kitchen. Someone puts a flame to the candles and
from the back of the tent:

“
Hark

the herald angel’s
sing,


Glory to the newborn
King!


Peace on earth and mercy
mild


God and sinners
reconciled.


Joyful, all ye nations
rise


Join the triumph of the
skies


With the angelic host
proclaim:


"Christ is born in
Bethlehem."


Hark! The herald angel’s
sing


"Glory to the newborn
King!"

Chapter
Twenty-Three

LEAVING
CINCINATTI

Hundreds of miles southwest of Point
Lookout Christmas of ’63 is approaching for Luke and Nathaniel
also. Earlier both had crawled upon the riverbank south of
Cincinnati. Nate slipped past the Union sentries to the corral
where a large herd of cavalry horses were being quartered for the
night. He quietly places the bridle, saddle blanket and saddle on a
couple of black horses, figuring they will be harder to spot in the
dark.

Softly walking the two cavalry mounts
back to Luke they slowly and quietly slid onto the saddles, and are
about to head south toward Lexington, Kentucky, when Luke notices
his horse’s saddle blanket. It is Union blue with a white star in
the corner.

Grinning, Luke looks at Nate, “Darn
you Nate, did you have to steal the General’s horse?”

“
Sorry, Luke, it wuz dark
and you ferget I wuz in quite a bit of a hurry, I thought black
would be good tho’.”

“
You done good Nate, real
good!”

Luke estimated they should make twenty
to twenty-five miles a day. This is to be a huge overestimation;
the Yanks are thick as fleas on a dog’s back along the way. Most of
the day Luke and Nate spent hiding out and at night it is extremely
hard picking their way through the dark trails. Their twenty-five
miles per day become more like five miles and this on a good
day.

It is impossible to use the main
roads, Yankee patrols are stationed at all crossroads, and columns
of moving troops are constantly coming up and down the roads. Even
if they had maintained travel on the roads the cannons and caissons
pulled by their teams of six horses would probably have run them
down anyway. Early in the War cannoneers had learned when the
order, ‘Move Cannons’ was issued anything or anybody in their way
got run over. Moving those giant beasts that belched the heavy iron
balls took priority over the road.

Cincinnati, Ohio to Lexington,
Kentucky is a mere eighty or eighty-five miles. Luke figures this
is only a four or five day journey. He again is overly optimistic;
they have traveled the better part of two weeks to reach Lexington.
Lexington is heavenly garrisoned with Union troops. There is no way
to pass straight through without being challenged by a sentry; they
must make a large circle on the east side to by-pass the main part
of town. Ride at night, hide out in the daytime becomes their daily
routine.

As they make their detour around
Lexington Luke asks Nate about their food supply – checking the
saddlebag, Nate replies, “Old Mother Hubbard ain’t got nothin’ in
the cupboard, the pantry is plum empty.”

“
Nate, I know it is taking
a enormous chance, but I have to sneak into Lexington and find us
some food. The prospects of finding food after going farther south
will be mighty slim.”

“
But Luke, we’s ain’t got
no money and nothin’ to swap.”

“
I still have my
grandfather’s gold pocket watch. Lexington is a Rebel town;
although, the Yankees have it occupied, I believe I might find
someone that will barter with me. You stay hidden here in the woods
until I return Nate. You hear me Nathaniel? Don’t you get
caught?”

Luke moves slowly through the woods
until he comes to the main road. About a mile along he sees a steep
curve in the road ahead, moving into the woods he dismounts. Tying
his horse to a tree, he slips through the dense undergrowth until
he can see the curve clearly. His instincts are correct. Just
around the turn is a detachment of Union infantry. Two sentries are
manning posts on either side of a country crossroads. Down on his
hands and knees Luke quietly crawls close enough to hear the
guard’s conversation. He hears one say they were attached to the
7
^th
U.S. Cavalry. The other made reference that the
commander was Brigadier General Stoneman. Luke learns the General’s
headquarters is stationed at Mount Sterling; however, Luke has no
idea where Mount Sterling is.

He also over-hears General Stoneman
has been captured at the Battle of Brian’s Station, close to
Nashville, and General George Armstrong Custer assumed command of
the 7
^th
.

Making his way back through the woods
to his horse, he mounts and returns to Nate.

“
Nate change jackets with
me. I need your Yankee blue one.”

“
What’s you doin’ Luke,
with you wearin’ yer blue-belly pants and my blue-belly jacket,
theys gonna shoot you as a spy foreshore.”

“
I hope not. I’ve got me
an idea.”

Entering the main road again, he digs
his heels into the horse’s flanks, going from a slow walk to a fast
gallop. Rounding a curve in the road the two sentinels step out to
block the rider’s path. Luke sees them and yells, “Out of my way
you scoundrels! Get out of my way I tell you!”

“
Halt, or we’ll shoot!”
Answer the guards.

Pulling his reins he slows his horse
from a gallop to a walk, and yells, “You idiots! Don’t you
recognize me?”

One of the Yankee privates orders,
“Advance and be recognized!”

Walking up to the two sentries one
asks, “What’s the password?”

Luke responded, “Password the Devil, I
don’t know no cussed password! I’m General Stoneman; I understand
General Custer has taken over my 7
^th
Cavalry! Where is
he, at the Mount Sterling headquarters?”

Seeing the General’s white star on the
saddle blanket one sentry says, “Sir, but...but Sir, they say you
was captured at Brian’s Station?”

Luke staying in character, “You fool,
do I look the heck like I’m captured. I’m dressed as a private so I
could escape, now git your fool selves out of my way before I have
you court- martialed and shot.”