The Cellar

by Curtis Richardson

  “Forward March” came the call and the line moved forward. Ike remembered how it had been a relief to finally be moving, occupied with the mechanical action of motions practiced for months to the familiar sounds of bugles and drums. The regiment marched with as much precision as was possible as they dodged briars, shrubs, and saplings.

  Shooting continued to their front as pickets and skirmishers from both sides exchanged fire. White tailed deer ran toward the regiment and leaped through the ranks of soldiers as if they weren’t there. Rabbits and squirrels scampered about looking for cover and nearly tripped up a few of the marchers as they fled their homes in hopes of escaping the noise.

  The blue line came to the edge of a weedy ravine and halted. On the far side of this small valley stood another line of men in blue uniforms. Both lines stood as if frozen and stared across at the other, there was no breeze and the flags hung limp. Most were convinced that these were enemy troops in spite of their colors. The cut of the uniforms was somehow different and their regimental flag didn’t look right. The Colonel had spoken with his counterpart on the other side for a few moments when a small wind came up and floated the flag away from its pole. Someone pointed out that the flag was from Louisiana and the Colonel gave the order for his men to retreat by columns. The blue coats on the other side began to level their muskets in the direction of the Illinois men. The rim of the valley gave the Union men cover as they retreated with bullets whizzing and whining inches over their heads. They would learn some time later that this was a regiment from a Louisiana Military Academy, who were still in their blue Federal Uniforms for lack of any better.

  “I think I know how them rabbits felt!” Johnny puffed as they were retracing their steps.

  “I wish we could run as fast as those deer.” Jimmy replied as they approached their campsite.

  For the first time of many the regiment heard a sound that would chill their blood and resound in many nightmares for as long as they lived. The Confederates let loose the high pitched ululating scream that would be the last thing that many a Yankee soldier would hear in this world. Johnny would say later that the “Rebel Yell” sounded like Satan’s rabbit dogs yelping after their prey.

  The regiment marched past their camp and formed their next line on a slight elevation just beyond rifle range of the line of tents, where the enemy had stopped. The Colonel gave the order for them to lie down. There they waited for their pursuers. Their wait was extended as the Rebels looted the camp. They could see men running in and out of tents, pillaging for food and whatever spoils took their fancy. The commanding officer of the Louisiana Regiment berated his men and ordered them to stop their plundering and re-form. He had to fire his pistol in the air to get their attention and it took several minutes to get them back in to line. This activity gave the Illinois regiment time to prepare. They had the advantage of a row of sassafras saplings that had proliferated at the edge of the fallow field where they had stopped to face the enemy. Lying behind the raised root wads of the small trees gave them a small but effective cover.

  Soon the enemy was coming towards them. The blue coated Louisiana men marched with the movements they had learned from Hardee’s tactics, the same book the Illinois men had drilled from for months. When the Rebels came within range, the Colonel gave the order to fire. The blue line kept coming, but with frequent gaps where men had been felled. Ike had made one of those gaps, having killed the first of many secessionists he would fire upon in the months to come. The men scooted backwards and rolled on their backs to reload while others took their place on the firing line.

  The Rebels stopped, took aim and fired at their attackers, but did little damage other than raining sassafras twigs on the heads of their foes.

  Union artillery men were plying their trade and made even bigger holes in the approaching line. After two barrages of canister rounds the Confederates broke and began their retreat. With a loud ‘hurrah’ the Union Regiment rose and followed, stopping only to fire their guns at likely targets. As they gained on the Rebels, an occasional man would stop and take cover behind a tree and fire back. One of these managed to line up Jimmy in the iron sights of his musket. Ike’s brother fell beside him. Ike dropped to the ground next to Jimmy and held him in his arms as he drew his last ragged breaths and coughed out his last words.

  “Theirs not to…make reply, Theirs not to question why, Theirs but to….do and die……, Into the valley of death………” Jimmy said, his voice fading with the last words.

  “Rode the six hundred.” Ike said in response. Seeing that there was nothing else to do, he closed Jimmy’s eyelids, picked up his gun and moved forward.

  Johnny was standing over the man who had shot Jimmy, bayoneting his corpse again and again, crying and screaming curses at the bloody cadaver. Ike put a hand on the small man’s arm as he thrust the bayonet once more into Jimmy’s killer and stopped his butchery.

  “I cain’t give Jimmy back, but I killed that son of a bitch!” Johnny blubbered.

  “I know Johnny, but we have to keep moving, we have to charge on, that’s what we are here for!”

  And charge they did, until Confederate artillery drove them back. They would spend the rest of the day charging and retreating, mostly retreating. Ike and Johnny stayed side by side through their first battle. By the day’s end Ike felt as if in some way Johnny had become his brother.

  Ike looked back up through the knothole at the stars, Orion had moved almost out of his limited field of vision while he had been reliving the day his brother died.

  “Jimmy’s up there with ‘em now, Ikey.” Johnny said. “He can still see the stars only better.”

  “You know that do you, Johnny?” Ike said, surprised by how grateful he was to hear his friend’s voice again.

  “Don’t know a whole lot, but I know that.” Johnny replied, sounding subdued and tentative.

  “I hate to admit it, but I’ve missed you Johnny.”

  “Well, I’ve been here all along. I thought I’d give you a little peace and hush up for a while. I know I can be kinda’ irritatin’ sometimes. I even helped you write that letter, you seemed like you was havin’ trouble.”

  “I remember when you couldn’t read or write all that well.” Ike said, remembering how he and Johnny had labored over an old primer. He had made some progress, but it had come slow until Johnny found a copy of “Fanny Hill” and his reading skills improved dramatically. Expressing his own thoughts on paper had still been a challenge, but he could recite the steamiest passages from his one book library by heart.

  “Well, I wasn’t so good when I was a livin’ but I think I’m right good at it now. I might just have had a little help though.”

  One day while he was admiring a cloud formation through his small portal Johnny interrupted his thoughts. “You seem to be getting’ purty comfortable down here, Ikey. The rest of the regiment is out there somewhere fightin’ and you’re here readin’ all them books and lookin’ at clouds.”

  “So you think I should try to escape again Johnny? Do you know something I don’t know?”

  “I always knew things you didn’t know, Ikey!” He giggled. “I know even more now that I’m dead. I know you cain’t break open that door and run but you oughta’ be keepin’ an eye out for opportunities.”

  “Sometimes I think I’m too comfortable here, this cellar seems like a cocoon that protects me from the outside world. A part of me would be happy just to stay here where I’m safe and comfortable.”

  “I don’t know it it’s a cocoon or a womb Ikey. That ol’ girl is tryin’ to keep you all warm and snug here like it’s gonna’ protect you and her boy both. It may be comfortable Ike, but I ain’t to sure that it’s all that safe, it could turn into a tomb.”

  Ike tested the door again and found it to be immovable. The bar was always secured when Marcus left for any period of time. The weight, which Ike had seen when he and Marcus were removing the bodies of the two intruders, was an old grindstone that was rolled on top
of the door as an added measure. Something about the round stone reminded Ike of Christ’s tomb in an old Bible illustration. “Johnny, I wish someone would roll away the stone for me.”

  “Well, that’s way above my rank, I’m afraid. I don’t think I’m even a corporal yet.”

  “The only way I see to get out of here is to somehow rush out while Marcus has the door open, but he never leaves it unsecured except when he is coming and going. I don’t think I would have a chance of getting past him, he’s just too big.” The thought of trying to fight his way past Marcus was daunting and the idea of doing something to harm him troubled Ike as well. In spite of his situation he was fond of the taciturn giant.

  “Let’s just keep a watchin’ Ikey. Somethin’ might just happen that you’d miss.”

  No lapses on the part of his guardian seemed to present any opportunities for Ike to flee. He resumed his reading of Sir Walter Scott’s “Ivanhoe”. The leather bound volume was well worn and Ike assumed it must have been a favorite of Dr. Pendleton and his sons. Inked on the fly leaf in an elegant hand was the inscription, “To Todd from his Father, Christmas 1859”.

  Late one afternoon as he was reading “Rob Roy” Ike heard hoof beats in the yard and quick booted steps in the house above. After the visitor left he could hear Mrs. Pendleton pacing back and forth in the kitchen above his abode.

  “I think she got some bad news Ikey.” Johnny said

  “You don’t suppose Todd is dead?”

  “I don’t think so, but she’s pacin’ back and forth like she’s got a lot on her mind. Kinda’ like you do sometimes.”

  A storm came that evening. Lightning flashes sent flickers through the knothole and the crack in the door. Something about the lightning disturbed Ike. Some old memory was trying to restore its place in Ike’s conscious mind, but could not make its way through. “You scared o’ lightin’ there Ikey?” Johnny asked.

  “No more than anyone else I suppose.” Ike said out loud, not thinking to keep his conversation internal. He caught himself and looked around to make sure no living soul had heard him. Something about the lightning had unnerved him. “I think I had a bad experience with lightning once Johnny, but I cannot recall what it was. I just know that it was something terrible.” He sat in silence watching the flickering and listening to the thunder.

  “It’s the noise of the thunder that always used to bother me Ikey. First time I heard artillery, I thought it was thunder, after that plain old thunder never seemed so bad.” Johnny mused.

  Whatever recollection wanted to be triggered by the storm, nothing came to Ike as he sat uncomfortably watching and listening. After a while the storm began to seem more like a portent of coming doom than a memory.

  Some rain trickled down the steps, but for the most part the cellar remained dry, Ike watched as a small puddle formed under the knothole. Marcus brought his dinner at the usual time but was not accompanied by his mistress. Ike noted that the big man was wearing what looked like a Union Army poncho draped over his head as he carried the oilcloth covered tray. Ike wondered if this was the poncho that had been in his pack or if it was from one of his dead comrades. As was his custom, Marcus retreated back up the steps, closed the door and barred it. Ike ate in silence, he was not at all disappointed not to have Mrs. Pendleton’s usual company at supper.

  Marcus returned some time later to take away the tray and dishes. He hung the dripping poncho on the spike that had been driven into a mortared joint to hang Ike’s mirror. As he prepared the tray for its trip back up the stairs a series of violent flashes of lightning illuminated another smaller figure descending the steps. Each flash revealed the silhouette in a different position. When the figure descended the last step and stood dripping on the stone floor the lantern light revealed Micheline Pendleton. She stood there breathing heavily.

  “Missy, you shoudn’a come out in this weather. You catch you def a somethin.” Marcus said, looking at the woman with concern and a trace of what Ike thought was fear.

  “I had to check on our guest, Marcus. I am much concerned about his health.” She said, ignoring the big man’s concern. She was drenched to the skin, having come out with no umbrella or other covering to ward off the rain. Her hair was plastered to her skull and her clothing was soaked and clung to her body. For once she looked her age and then some. Ike found himself sharing Marcus’ concern for the woman’s health.

  Mrs. Pendleton picked up the lantern and held it high so she could examine Ike. She scanned him from head to foot as he stood before her. She paid particular attention to his face and spent some time examining it. Her manner made him squirm as she stared into his eyes.

  “Are you feeling well, young man?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’m fine. I think you should get dried off as soon as possible though, you’re shaking. Please let Marcus take you upstairs and get you situated, he is concerned about you. I’ll be fine.”

  Still staring at Ike as if he might be a vision she spoke slowly and flatly. “I received a troubling letter from General Forrest’s staff today. Todd has been wounded, he will survive, but I’m afraid he will be marred for the rest of his life. I do not understand how this could have happened. I was so sure that he would be under God’s care and would be spared from harm.” She paused and began to sob. “It…isn’t….fair. It…just….wasn’t….supposed….to…..happen…this….way!” She said, her sobs punctuating the words as she spat them out. She collapsed into Marcus’ arms and continued her crying.

  Marcus carried his now wailing mistress back up the steps. The door was left open and Ike closed it himself to keep out the rain. He stood at the bottom of the steps and looked at the unbarred door.

  “Ikey……this might be your chance.” Johnny said softly as if someone else might be listening.

  Ike listened to the footsteps above for a few moments. He looked around for anything that might be of use to him. He grabbed the poncho off the spike and took the knife from the serving tray and stuck it in the top of his right boot. He looked around the room that had been his home for months. His eyes fell on the Volume of Sir Walter Scott and he paused for a few moments as if thinking of bringing it with him.

  “Ikey, you need to move…now!” Johnny’s voice came with more urgency.

  Ike swallowed hard and bolted up the steps. He took the steps two at a time, being careful not to make too much noise and started out into the rain. He stood in the yard and tried to decide on a direction.

  “Go to your right Ike….now!” Johnny shouted. “The creek will be up so you got to go to higher ground….get movin’ before you lose your nerve! Go around towards the road!”

  Ike went around the side of the house and headed toward the lane that he remembered marching down in what seemed like some other life. He was stopped in his tracks however by the sight of the four graves. Carved wooden markers had been placed at the heads of each of the mounds. Grass and ivy had begun to cover them and flowers had been planted near the markers. He had the urge to stop and pray over the remains of his friends but Johnny was screaming at him to move on. A lightning flash revealed the name on one of the markers…. “Joseph Pendleton 1843 -1862”

  “Ikey, you can’t stop! You don’t have time for that! Get into those woods, Marcus is comin’ for you!”

  Ike had just started toward the woods where the attackers had waited in ambush for his squad when something thumped against the back of his head and dropped him to the muddy ground. He was knocked unconscious before he could complete his escape.

  Chapter 4 – Deuteronomy

  Once again Ike awoke in darkness. His head throbbed and he felt feverish. A bandage was wrapped snugly around the top of his head and another looped downward over his right eye. He had to cough and when he did everything hurt even worse, especially his eye. He had never felt so miserable as he did at this moment. His chest was congested, his head hurt, and his eye, something was very wrong with his eye.

  “Ikey, can you hear me?” Johnny’s voice came soun
ding tentative.

  “Yes, Johnny, I hear you. Where am I?”

  “Back home in your cellar I’m afraid.”

  “What happened?”

  “You didn’t move fast enough. Marcus heard you come up the steps and he caught you and conked you in the head with a piece of stove wood so you wouldn’t get away. He was mighty afraid that he killed you. The big fella carried you back down to the cellar like you was a baby or somethin’. He cried like a baby himself ‘til he figured out your skull wasn’t crushed. I think you may ‘of got you a case of newmonie from bein’ out in that rain.”

  “My eye, Johnny! What happened to my eye?” Ike moaned.

  “She took it out, Ike. She kept a mutterin’ about how her boy Todd lost an eye in a battle and it made her so plum mad at God for lettin’ her boy get hurt that she decided to get even with him and take it out on you. I know it don’t make no sense but that poor woman has just clean lost her mind.”

  Ike’s aching head reeled with the realization of what had happened to him. The thought of having lost an eye was sickening. He felt like he was going to retch and went into another coughing fit and nearly passed out.

  “Johnny, did Marcus help her?”

  “No, he had went upstairs to get you some clean sheets and stuff and she came down here with an ole’ black bag that musta’ been her husband’s. She did it quick while you was unconscious. She pulled it out and cut whatever holds it in with a scalpel and plopped it in a jar fulla’ alkyhol or somethin’ like she was a keepin’ it to look at or give to her boy. She packed yer’ eye hole with some cotton and salve to keep it from bleedin’ and just wrapped you up like she was a settin’ a broke leg or somethin’”

  “Marcus come in and stood there like somebody pole axed him. She just looked at him and proceeded to wrap you up. He looked at her and looked at yer’ eye in the jar and then he looked back at her kinda angry like. I thought for a minute he was a gonna’ kill her or somethin’. He raised that big hand up like he was about to strike her down, then he stopped and just looked at his hand as he brought it down. He just stood there and stared at her like she was somethin’ he’d never seen before.”