The Chameleon Soldier: NOW AS AN ALIEN BLUE HE CANNOT DIE. (3 page)

“If I didn’t tell the captain, and the Navajos attacked, many of us would die. Wouldn’t you rather be on the safe side, Lieutenant?”

“Damn you, Muldoon.”

Early the following morning, the 1st Cavalry Company was assembled in the center of the buildings that comprised Fort Defiance. A short time later, the sentries reported seeing over a thousand Navajo Indians led by Chief Manuelito riding toward them.

The Navajos attacked from all four sides, but were forced back by the one-hundred and fifty man company. The Indians attacked a second time, and nearly succeeded in overrunning the garrison. The fighting was fierce.

A tall, strongly built Indian singled out Killian and rushed at him, knife in hand. He slashed the blade at Killian, who grabbed the man, and they wrestled to the ground. The knife sliced a deep cut into Killian’s shoulder, but he held off the Navajo and turned the knife around before sinking it into the Indian’s side. They rolled on the ground, separated, then stood up, and stared at one another. The Navajo still had the bloody knife in his hand. He watched, fascinated, as Killian’s wounded shoulder began to heal before his eyes. When Killian stepped back, he saw that the gash on the Indian’s side was healing rapidly too.

The Navajo’s eyes widened as he glared at Killian. “It is true then, what we have heard. You are a Blue.” He raised his knife and shouted. “I am Lupan, a Blue Warrior, and one day I will kill you with fire, Taglito Silaada.”

Then he turned and ran to join the other retreating Indians, who were abandoning the fight at the order of Chief Manuelito.

Killian looked down at his shoulder. It ached, but somehow it was healing. He thought about what the Navajo had called him. Taglito Silaada, it was Navajo for red-bearded soldier. He now knew he had an Indian name, as well as a true enemy in Lupan, the grey fox. He wondered what Lupan had meant when he said he’d kill him with fire.

That morning the Navajos took more than twenty dead and many wounded back to their camp. Only one, 1st Cavalry Trooper had been killed and only a few wounded.

The following day, Captain Ryan congratulated the Troopers on a fight well done, and commended Killian Muldoon, promoting him to a warrant over grade, which was one rank higher than common private. The captain also elevated Killian to specialist in cavalry reconnaissance. Lieutenant Hiram Liddle appeared equally proud they had repelled the Indians. But, he was clearly seething over the promotion awarded to Killian, who, in his eyes was a weird misfit.

A
few months
later, the Civil War broke out. The 1st Cavalry was ordered to Virginia, where they fought in the Peninsula Campaign, a major Union Army operation launched in southeastern Virginia. From there, during 1862–63, they engaged in a series of battles while attached to the Union’s largest force, the Army of the Potomac. They fought in the Battle of Williamsburg, the Battle of Brandy Station, and the Battle of Beverly Ford. During their mounted charges the 1st Cavalry lost over a hundred men, most to saber wounds. Then they were sent to Camp Buford, in Maryland, for rest and re-equipping.

Before rejoining the Army of the Potomac, Killian Muldoon was promoted to sergeant. After returning to battle, the regiment’s first engagements against the Confederate cavalry and infantry were at Manassas Junction and Catlett’s Station. After those successful battles they were employed, during the winter months, to do picket duty along the Rapidan River.

In the spring, the 1st Cavalry accompanied General Sheridan’s regiment on his daring raid around Richmond, Virginia, fighting at the Beaver Dam Station, the Battle of Cold Harbor and the Battle of Trevilian Station. The fighting was severe; the count of men and officers of the 1st Cavalry who were killed was high. The regiment was then sent to patrol the Chickahominy River, where they set up camp on the north side of the river, a few miles south of Richmond. During the rainy season the river would flood, causing much of the land to be swampy; this, however, was the dry season. Their camp was by a docile, narrow part of the river, which was easily crossed. The enemy was not far away, as their camp was on the south side of the river. This accounted for the regiment’s daily skirmishing encounters with the Confederate Rebels.

One evening, Sergeant Muldoon was resting in his tent when he was summoned to Colonel Crosset’s tent. He knew what the colonel wanted. It was what he always wanted. Killian and the men under his command were the lead reconnaissance team. In addition, Sergeant Muldoon had volunteered for night patrols. He had done this for two reasons. First, he knew that with his new, weird, unasked for ability to transform, he’d be able to protect his men from danger. Secondly, by doing night reconnaissance, he would be better able to keep his unusual chameleon-like transformations a secret. Killian hated his situation, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He had become resigned to the fact that his encounter with the Navajo Indian, who had spilled bluish fluid on him, and then turned into an odd grey-looking thing, and disappeared in a fiery flash, had fundamentally altered his body chemistry. Over the past three years he had hoped and prayed he’d become normal again. His prayers, however, hadn’t been answered.

That night, after his briefing with the colonel, Sergeant Muldoon and four of his men crossed the dry ground and approached the narrowest part of the Chickahominy River. Killian felt it was a good night for reconnoitering, as there was good cloud cover. There wouldn’t be any moonlight, and less chance of being seen. However, unbeknown to him, they were not the only ones out that night.

Lieutenant Liddle, who had been listening outside the colonel’s tent, had heard the colonel’s instructions to Sergeant Muldoon. The lieutenant, who was dubious of Killian’s uncanny ability to be successful on all of his intelligence-gathering missions, secretly followed the party down to the river. He did not trust the sergeant. He watched as Killian directed two of his men to check the river to the north and the other two to probe the river to the south. Sergeant Muldoon stood and watched as his men did as ordered. Lieutenant Liddle, standing in the shadows, wondered what Killian was doing. He anticipated that Killian would move up or down the river, but he didn’t. Instead the sergeant waded into the river and disappeared from the lieutenant’s view. Lieutenant Liddle waited about ten minutes, but didn’t catch sight of the sergeant again, so he returned to the camp.

After Killian had crossed the river, and was about fifty yards inland he saw a Confederate patrol, and ducked down. As they passed by, Sergeant Muldoon’s uniform changed into one of a Confederate sergeant. He stood up and walked into the enemy camp, strolling over to a large tent. He stopped at the entrance, smiled and spoke, with a southern accent, to the soldier on guard.

“Looks like another big meeting,” said Killian as he nodded toward the tent.

“Yes Sergeant. Those officers are always planning something,” replied the guard, with a grin.

Killian nodded and walked away. Once out of the guard’s sight he darted back behind the large tent. He knelt and for close to ten minutes listened to the Confederate officers’ conversation, learning their plans for an upcoming battle. Then he sauntered back out into the open and down toward the river. He avoided the Confederate patrol and made his way to the shoreline. He felt it was safe to swim the short distance back across the river, as there was still good cloud cover. He entered the water and started across. As he swam, his uniform began to change back to one of a Union soldier. When he was about halfway across, the sky dealt him a bad break. The clouds separated and a bright three-quarter moon shone down on the river. He was spotted by the Confederate patrol. Shots were fired. Killian felt two bullets slam into his lower back. He fell forward, went under the water, and blacked out.

In the slow currant his body drifted down river. After a few seconds his eyes opened. Realizing he was underwater he rose to the surface, and took a couple of deep breaths. He looked back and saw that he had only drifted about fifty yards, and the cloud cover had returned. There wasn’t any more firing. He guessed the Rebs had assumed they’d killed him.

Killian swam the few yards to the shore and stood up. He reached back and felt the area where he’d been shot. The bullet wounds had already healed. He started walking toward the rendezvous point. His four men were standing by the tree line, waiting for him.

“Sergeant, what are you doing coming from that way? We just patrolled down there and didn’t see you,” said one of the soldiers.

“I crossed over here, and then went downstream. I must have crossed in behind you.”

“You swam across, Sergeant?” asked another soldier.

“Yes, it’s not very deep, and I had good cloud cover.”

“We heard shots fired. Were they at you?”

“Yes, but they didn’t come close. Let’s get back to camp; you can give me your reports on the way.”

Killian didn’t tell them what he had done or what he had heard.

When they arrived at the camp he dismissed the others, and headed for the colonel’s headquarter tent. A corporal on guard informed him the colonel was in a meeting with other officers, but Killian insisted it was important he give his report. The corporal went to check if the sergeant could enter. A few moments later, the corporal returned and let Killian into the tent. As he stepped inside, Killian heard the colonel discussing the next day’s plan of action. Most of the officers were in attendance, including the pompous Lieutenant Liddle, who was staring at him.

“Asshole,” Killian whispered under his breath.

Colonel Crosset acknowledged the new arrival. “Come on up here, Sergeant. We were just finishing our meeting. We’d like to hear your report.”

Killian glanced at the other officers and hesitated. “Now, sir?” he asked.

“Of course now, I don’t think we have any spies in here.” The colonel chuckled, as did the other officers.

“Colonel, my men reported there isn’t any unusual activity up or down the river.”

“That’s good news, Sergeant.”

“But I was able to cross the river and get back behind the Confederate officers tent.”

There was mumbling among the officers. Lieutenant Liddle rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief.

“You did? How is that possible, Sergeant?” asked the colonel, with surprise.

“They only had one patrol out. I was lucky and caught them off guard, sir.”

No one said anything for a moment.

“Colonel, the Rebs are planning an attack.”

“What? An attack, when?” asked the astonished colonel.

“In the morning, sir.”

“Tomorrow morning?” The colonel looked at his officers. “I find that unlikely, Sergeant. From our reports the Rebs aren’t that organized.”

“Colonel, they have been trying to mislead you. Late tonight they will quietly move, and head northwest up the river to meet with a company that is marching southeast along the river from the Richmond area.”

The colonel considered him for a moment. “When they join, then they plan to attack?” he asked.

“Yes sir, at first light. They will cross the river at its narrowest point, and attack our northwest flank, which they believe we will least expect.”

“Unbelievable!” the colonel exclaimed. “They’re right. They would catch us completely off guard. I wouldn’t have expected an attack from there.” The coronel looked at the officers and then back to Killian. “Is there anything else?”

“No sir. That’s the full report.”

“Great work as usual, Sergeant Muldoon. We now have a lot of new planning to do.” The colonel saluted Killian and dismissed him. The officers stood, contemplating Sergeant Muldoon as he left the tent.

“First class man, that Sergeant Muldoon,” the colonel mused. “I’ve never seen or heard of a reconnaissance Trooper like him. Alright then, we’ll scrap our previous plans. We need to set up a completely new defense on our northwestern flank.”

A few officers, including Lieutenant Liddle, cautioned that it might not be wise to trust the sergeant’s report and to alter their previous plans. Nevertheless, Colonel Crosset had faith in Sergeant Muldoon, and the plans of defense were changed.

By sunlight the regiment was in position to defend against a possible attack. Quietly they watched and waited. It wasn’t long before they saw Confederate troops forming up on the far shore and begin to cross at the narrowest, shallowest part of the river. The Union regiment waited until the Rebs were in the water, and their first units nearing the shore before opening with a barrage of cannon and rifle fire. It was a slaughter. Most soldiers in the Confederate offensive were killed before they could flee to safety on the far shore.

The following day, Sergeant Muldoon was congratulated and decorated. Once again the envious and perplexed Lieutenant Liddle looked on, and became more determined, than ever, to learn how Killian was always able to get vital information.

For the next
nine months, the 1st Cavalry accompanied the Army’s First Division. They were involved in the Richmond–Petersburg, Virginia Campaign, when the Union regiment surrounded the city of Petersburg, and cut off the Confederate supply line. Lieutenant General Ulysses S. Grant, the commander of the Union forces, constructed a thirty-mile trench line that extended from the eastern outskirts of Richmond to the eastern and southern area of the city of Petersburg. Numerous raids were conducted against General Robert E. Lee’s Army. Finally, with dwindling resources and heavy losses of men, General Lee abandoned both cities in April 1865. He retreated to Appomattox Court House and surrendered.