by Leigh Lee
Two days later, Private Alex Lawson confronted Eugenia. She was just leaving the supply tent on her way to evening mess when he blocked her path, looking none too happy. Not wanting a confrontation, Eugenia stepped aside to allow the stout man to pass and was surprised when instead he grabbed her arm.
“Not so fast, boy!” he hissed through missing teeth.
The stench of liquor was thick on his breath. Eugenia glared at the meaty paw clamped on her arm. “Private, if you know what is best for you, you will release your hold at once.”
Lawson did so, but not before giving Eugenia a shove that sent her hurling to the ground on her backside. Violent fury twisted Lawson’s face. He lunged at her, and in terror, Eugenia scrambled backward just in time to avoid his crushing weight. He howled with rage when he found himself clutching dirt instead of his intended target.
Spitting dust, he squinted up at her as she regained her footing. Goaded by the crowd of men beginning to form around them, he lumbered up and came around to face her. Hoots, hollering, the exchange of coins indicated the bet was on as to which of the two would prevail—the pint-sized sergeant or the fat drunk.
Eugenia glared at the detestable man in front of her. She knew Lawson was outraged over receiving latrine duty. The job required a lot of digging and shoveling of human waste. The task no doubt cramped his ability to sleep all day and drink all night. She glanced around at the growing crowd of men in search of support. Some offered boxing techniques by throwing punches into the air, but no one made a move to intervene. No, there would be no help from this bunch of hooligans.
“I suggest that you cool off in the mess tent, Private!” she snapped, hoping the mention of food would distract him.
Lawson’s wide grin told her he was enjoying the hollering and clapping. It was obvious he took pride in being the best entertainment the men had seen in some while. “It’s time ya were done taught a lesson!” he snarled.
“I think you should go while you can,” Eugenia warned with confidence she was not feeling. It would not do for Lawson to get a hint of how frightened she was. Moreover, with all the men now gathered around, she could hardly turn tail and leave without earning the title of camp coward.
As they continued to circle one another, Eugenia crouched like a baby tiger, ready to spring should Lawson move forward. Basking in the limelight, the drunkard puffed up his massive chest and laughed. “What ya think now, boy? Not so high ‘n mighty, er ya, without yer orderlies around?”
Eugenia kept her eyes on him as she answered. “I am surprised you even remember that day, you were so blinded by liquor.”
From the smirk on his face, it was clear the private saw himself as the winner of the coming engagement. He hopped around throwing air punches, reveling in the cheers his actions gained from the men who watched. Their excitement and attention goaded him further.
“Come take yer beating like a man!” Lawson shouted just before lunging forward. Eugenia hopped to the side but not fast enough. His large fist slammed into her shoulder. The impact spun her around, almost making her lose her balance. Ignoring the gripping pain, she regained her footing, careful to keep her eyes riveted on her attacker.
Lawson snarled like a wild animal smelling the blood of its victim. He charged forward again, this time ensnaring her arm. He drew his fist back and gloated over the mounting terror she could no longer hide.
“I’m gonna enjoy this!” He grinned wickedly.
Chapter 10
Jeff exited his tent feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. The late August day had been a good one. In fact, the whole month has been very gratifying, he thought.
As he watched the sun move closer to the horizon, he lit a cheroot and congratulated himself. Conditions in his ward of the army field hospital had certainly improved since he took command. There had been few instances of misbehavior or fighting among the men. Indeed, the whole camp was more organized, and every man seemed dedicated to his duty. It had been hard work, but all were responding well to his superb methods of leadership. Yet the ultimate reward had come today when his men were acknowledged for having the best record of all the others at the field hospital now known as Camp Letterman. The Surgeon in chief, Dr. Henry Janes, who was in charge of all army hospitals near Gettysburg had been exuberant in his praise of Jeff.
Yes, this accomplishment was quite pleasing. As he surveyed the area of his command, he stood a little straighter, his chest expanded a tad more with the pride he felt.
Raucous shouts erupting near the mess tent caught his attention. What the hell? He tossed his smoke to the ground and stalked over to the crowd of men, who he quickly realized encircled two others who were fighting. Pushing his way through the wall of soldiers, he found Private Lawson dangling Sergeant Adams by the arm like a rag doll. The private’s other hand was drawn back in a tight ball ready to slam into Adams’ face. With the fury of one whose fuse had grown short, Jeff shouted for Private Lawson to halt and desist.
Lawson’s fist hovered inches from the lad’s face. His position as camp bully meant most of the men avoided confrontations with him. Now he looked around the circle of soldiers in search of the one who had dared to challenge him. At last, his attention came to rest on Jeff, who stood at least a foot taller. Lawson raised his eyes. His body jerked in fear when he saw the hot anger smoldering in his commanding officer’s eyes.
“Release the sergeant at once!” Jeff commanded, and Lawson obeyed, dropping the lad to the ground. Adams scurried to his feet and gave a stiff salute.
Irate, Jeff looked around the circle of men, ashamed of them all. Any one of them could have stopped this, but instead, they had cast coins at the outcome. His narrowed eyes found each man’s face. “Who is responsible for this?”
No one spoke. Not even Eugene.
“Not one man has anything to say?” he barked, walking around the group with his hands clasped behind his back.
Still, no one dared speak. “I see. Then I order everyone confined to quarters for the rest of the night without evening mess.”
A collective grumble rose up, but Jeff silenced it. “And–for the next week, this camp can look forward to extra duty. Until further notice, all furloughs will be canceled.” Jeff’s scowl swept the group of men; his censure so scathing that each one looked down, ashamed to meet his piercing glare.
“You men can explain the reason for this camp-wide reprimand to the rest of your bunkmates, who had the good sense not to join this brawl, yet who must also suffer because of your dull-witted actions. I mean to be sure that every soldier under my command understands that I will not tolerate such behavior under any circumstances.”
Jeff stood with his hands on his hips, his nostrils flaring as he targeted each face. “I could not be more disappointed in you men than I am right now! I am tempted to give every one of you the lash. Unless you wish me to carry out that punishment, you had better get the hell out of my sight!” Under that threat, soldiers scrambled in every direction, and there were quite a few collisions before the dust cleared.
Cook, who had been listening from the opening of the mess tent, threw down his towel in aggravation. “Captain, what am I going to do with that large kettle of excellent stew I spent the entire day making?”
“Give the wounded men extra rations,” Jeff barked collaring Lawson as he attempted to flee. The stink of alcohol emanated from the man’s skin and wafted from his breath.
Sergeant Adams, who knew better than to leave, continued to stand at attention, glaring at Lawson.
“Who started this?” Jeff boomed. When neither soldier spoke up, Jeff narrowed his eyes, looking from one face to the other. The sergeant had rank over the private and from what he saw when he arrived on the scene, the sergeant was getting the worst of it. Even if Sergeant Adams had goaded Private Lawson—which Jeff had a hard time believing—striking a superior was grounds for court martial. Besides that, Lawson was drunk when he should have been on duty.
“If neither of you has a word to
say, then I will make my decision based on what I saw,” he warned, pacing back and forth in front of the two.
Alex Lawson pointed a thumb at Adams, jabbering about how the sergeant had gotten him in trouble by tattling on him.
Jeff turned a scathing scowl on him. “So you started this out of revenge because the sergeant caught you off base without permission?” He turned to Adams and dismissed him, then focused once again on the private. No doubt realizing he had just incriminated himself, Lawson licked his lips and swallowed hard. He gave a choice curse or two under his breath and then fell silent.
Jeff deepened his scowl. “I’ll not have you striking one of my sergeants. If you found digging latrines unsavory, Private, things are about to get far worse. Are you familiar with the buck and gag?”
As Lawson endured the prescribed penalty, Jeff watched from a distance. This was one of the most feared and hated of corporal punishments within the army. Restrained while sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest, Lawson’s hands and feet were tied to a stick between his knees. A filthy rag stuffed in his mouth and bound in this manner without relief of any kind for the twenty-four hours, would give the private plenty of time to contemplate the stupidity of his actions. The men he had bullied in the past made sure to pay their respects passing by to spit on him or kicking dirt in his face.
If there was a high point to the punishment, it would be when the chaplain came to read Bible verses to the penitent and pray for his soul. Not a religious man, Lawson still had to be thankful for the minister’s time, for at least the others refrained from their attacks while the cleric read to him.
At last, Jeff turned and headed to the supply tent to question Sergeant Adams. When he threw the flap of the tent open and strode in, the lad jumped to attention.
With narrowed eyes, Jeff questioned him. “Why is it, Adams, that you and trouble are always such close companions?”
Adams gave him a doleful glance. “I am sorry, sir.”
“What the hell happened?”
With a flurry of hand motions, the sergeant gave a rapid accounting of the fight. Upon hearing the lad’s side of the tale, Jeff decided not to dole out any further punishment for the sergeant, but he shook his head. “Regardless of your innocence, son, I cannot show favoritism. You must endure the same as the rest of the men. I trust you were not harmed?”
“No, sir.”
Still infuriated over Lawson’s stunt, Jeff paced back and forth, shaking his head. “I still cannot believe he thought he was going to get away with this.”
A wry smile formed on the boys’ lips. “When Lawson drinks, he is a blockhead.”
After just having received recognition for commanding the best ward in the hospital, this disturbance was a devastating blow to Jeff’s pride. “Pride cometh before the fall.”
“Sir?”
Rather than answer, he ground, “I regret that one man’s asinine behavior must cause every other man to suffer. I hate to discipline the entire unit, but I saw no other way to make sure such behavior never happens again under my command. I had no choice—” His voice trailed off, and he looked right through the sergeant, still wrestling with his decision to institute the severe penalty on Private Lawson.
~*~*~
The captain’s misery touched Eugenia deeply. She ached to reach out to him, to hold him, console him with more than just words, but words were all that were appropriate for she was no more than a lad to him. “Sir, you are a good commander. You care about your men. I could not have asked for a better man to serve under.”
Captain Bradford glanced up with a sheepish grin. “Son, I want to believe what you say is true.” He plunked down on a chair and stared blindly at his hands. “I thought I had made a difference here. Perhaps I let pride get the best of me.” Glancing up, he cleared his throat. “Well. I should not be troubling you with all this.”
Eugenia nodded. “Do not give it another thought, sir. If it makes you feel any better, every man in this ward who possesses a brain thinks the world of you, and would follow you to hell if ordered to do so.” She saluted as she spoke. The action sent a shockwave of pain from her injured shoulder through her arm and up her hand. She could not halt a sharp gasp.
Noticing her reaction, he shot to a stand. “My God—you are injured.”
Eugenia shrank away. In truth, her shoulder throbbed with wrenching spasms, making it difficult to move that arm at all. “It is nothing, sir.” Her lie was unconvincing. As she lowered her arm, the pain had her skittering on tiptoes to keep from yelping.
Captain Bradford cocked a skeptical brow. “Then why are you grimacing and dancing?”
True to form, the captain noticed what most might not. His keen skills of observation made him an excellent doctor but would do her no good if he decided to examine her. Looking down, she shuffled her feet and felt her face redden as she quickly constructed her next lie. “Uh—I was on my way to the—uh—latrine when I was cornered by Private Lawson. Being confined now to quarters, well, sir—” She gulped before continuing. “—the need still exists.”
It took a second for the captain to grasp her meaning but when he did, he chuckled. “I see. That was hours ago. Perhaps I’d best be off before you embarrass us both. Visit the latrine.”
Eugenia nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
Eugenia collapsed onto her cot as soon as the captain left.
Ouch!
She clutched her upper arm, rolling in agony. The pain in her shoulder was so excruciating that simply touching it brought tears to her eyes. She suffered for hours waiting for the camp to quiet down for the night before she dared to remove her clothing to inspect the injury. An ugly, dark blue bruise covered her entire shoulder. If she could only sneak away to soak in the cold waters of the pond for a bit, she might find some relief from the searing pain.
She stole a peek out of the tent and saw the soldier on guard duty round the corner just beyond. As he disappeared from view, she donned her shirt and jacket, grabbed a towel and a lantern, and left her tent. Cautiously, she hurried to the path that ran along the stream deep into the woods. With everyone confined to quarters, she felt certain no one would miss her.
A full moon lit her way, and she found she did not need any extra light. Setting the lantern down by the edge of the pond, she discarded her clothing. Minutes later, she floated in the pond. Sighing relief, she dipped her shoulder beneath the surface, waiting for the gentle flow to soothe her injury.
Once her pain began to subside and become more bearable, she climbed out, toweled off, and got dressed. While she sat on the ground lacing her boots, the crunch of a branch caught her attention. She froze, listening. Another telltale sound soon followed. With horror, she realized that someone was coming down the path toward the pond. Snatching up her things, she hid in the bushes scarcely daring to breathe.
Through the cover of branches, she watched a man of uncommon height emerge a short distance down the path. Eugenia cursed under her breath. Captain Jeffery Bradford. If he found her here after he’d confined every man to quarters, Hades would seem a sweeter place. She squatted, keeping her head low, praying he would not spot her.
Despite the threat of discovery, she could not stop from peering through the thicket. The captain drew closer, a towel slung casually over his shoulder. Beneath his frock coat, he was bare-chested and lacking a belt; his trousers rode low on his hips exposing a taut belly.
With his back turned to her, he began to undress. First, to fall was his uniform coat, followed by his pants. Although Eugenia figured the captain’s “rules of decorum” deemed it inappropriate to spy on the opposite sex while they were disrobing, she could not resist a peek. Jolted, she pressed her hot face into her hands, but nothing could erase the sight of his taut buttocks gleaming white in the moonlight. A second later, she heard his foot strike something metallic and she sunk even lower to the ground.
The lantern! Oh, God! She had forgotten all about it. If she had waved a flag, she could not have made it
more obvious that someone else had been there.
All was quiet for a few moments, and she realized he must have been listening for possible sounds. Only when she heard a loud splash did she dare to release her breath. She shook her head feeling miserable. Another narrow escape. What would she have done if he had decided to stomp the bushes in search of an intruder? The thought left her struggling for air. No way was she brave enough to endure her naked captain finding her hiding in the bushes.
As desperate as she was to get away, she knew she had first to get past the pond. If the captain happened to glance up, he would see her. At the very least, he was sure to hear her on the path and would soon follow on her heels.
Unless—
She frowned. Hiding his clothing was too cruel. The poor man did not deserve such torment after everything else he had endured this day. However, Eugenia could see no other way out of this predicament. If he found her, anything could happen, including the discovery of her identity.
As she envision herself hanging from the end of a rope, she decided she had no choice. At least he would have the lantern to light his way as he searched for his garments.
The thought gave Eugenia the tiniest bit of consolation as she crawled upon her stomach, inching her way toward his clothing lying only a few feet from the pond. She had not survived her pretense thus far by allowing fright to rule her actions. This was the only way. She prayed his humming and splashing meant he was too engrossed in his bath to notice her slithering across the opening. Stretching out her uninjured arm, her fingertips found their target, and slowly she dragged the pile of clothing toward her. She crept back to her hiding place, afraid to breathe, listening. As his humming continued, she exhaled. His noisiness gave the perfect opportunity to hide the clothes deep in the bushes without notice.
