He quickly stood and stumbled over to the cabinet that hung on the wall by the front door and pulled a pint Mason jar out that had a clear liquid in it that resembled water. “Hell, why ain’t ya’ say so Gen’ral, I got some more right here” and he smiled as he walked back to the bed with it.
Attempting to smile, I replied, “Maybe later Sarge.”
As he sat the mason jar down on the floor beside the bed, he sat back down and continued on, “Anyways, you had a nasty cut in your side that had bled out a lot, but it didn’t look like you had anything major cut up inside ya’ there, so I just sewed that one up. Now your leg, that’s an altogether horse of a diff’rent color as my mama used to say. That damn thing was opened up like a damn filet knife was took to it. You prob’ly should of bled to death with that there cut. As a matter of fact, I don’t really understand why ya’ didn’t.”
“More corn liquor?” I asked as I grimaced and attempted to shift in the bed.
“A whole quart on that one!” he replied with emphasis on the quart. I used to do some medic work in my ole’ airborne days, so I had to bring some extra special skills to that there little fiasco on your leg. I think you are going to walk again. Probably won’t even have a limp if I did it good enough. I guess we’ll have to see on that one though. You got some broke ribs, I taped you up as good as I could to protect em’.”
“Sir, I do appreciate your mending me back to health. I really did think that I was dead. To be honest, I prayed to be dead,” I said.
“Well that there, ugh, well, there ain’t no shame in that now Gen’ral. No shame in that at all. But we can’t let the great Gen’ral Hornady die just yet. Why, you still got things to do Sir,” he said.
“Now that you have me all sewn up and on the mend, how long do you think it will be before I can travel?” I asked.
“Well, Gen’ral, if you’ll let me go with ya, we’ll leave with ole’ Bessie tomorrow morning, and I’ll get you back to your camp. But you’ll have to show me the way” he said.
“Deal.” I said weakly as I drifted off to sleep.
The next morning I awoke to the always wonderful smell of bacon cooking. Emmet helped me get up and to the table where we ate a mighty fine breakfast of bacon and eggs.
“Hard to beat bacon and eggs for any meal Emmet,” I said as I chewed meticulously slow. “I’m surprised I can chew with this jaw like it is.”
With his mouth half full he replied, “You gots that right Gen’ral. That there,” he said pointing at my plate, “is wild boar bacon, I killed that boar myself just last month. Right up there on that hill,” he said as he pointed out the small window.
We didn’t have much else to say as we ate breakfast. I continued to eat very slowly as every move of my mouth was met with excruciating pain throughout my entire body. But the food was so good that I suffered through.
Shortly after breakfast, with Bessie loaded up with me on her back, we left that little cabin in the woods heading for my camp. As we walked slowly for two days toward my camp, my mind continued to drift to Hannah.
“God I want to see her so badly!” I mumbled more than once.
Each time Emmet would turn, tilt his right ear toward me, cup his hand to his ear and say, “What say there Gen’ral?”
I would always try to smile and reply as best as I could, “Soldier on Sarge, soldier on.”
As we drifted into the camp it was desolate. My old camp, usually full of life was a virtual ghost town. The women and children always stayed back at camp while the men did the soldiering. I saw no signs of life. Emmet and I wandered through, calling out. Finally, I saw a figure in the distance by the wood line.
“Hannah?!” I exclaimed as loudly as I could.
I hobbled down off Bessie as best as I could with Emmet’s help and started limping as quickly as I could toward her.
I saw her turn toward me, and upon recognizing me, she ran to me with open arms. “We heard you were all dead!” she exclaimed as she smothered me with hugs and kisses.
“All but me,” I replied with tears in my eyes.
Turning her attention to Emmet, “And you are?”
“Emmet Forsyth, Esquire, at your service Ma’am” He replied as he saluted her and stood at attention.
“Emmet saved my life Hannah, if it wasn’t for him,” I said as I shifted my weight to the good leg, “I’m sure I’d be dead.”
“You must stay and eat with us. The other ladies and I will prepare a nice meal. Thank you for taking care of my husband” she said as she started helping me walk to a tent that was nearby.
“Ma’am, the honor, and I do mean the honor, was all mine.” But, I gotta get back to my little cabin. My job here is done. I wanted to save the Gen’ral, get him home, and I done that,” he replied.
“But Emmet, why don’t you stay here with us?’ I replied. “I could sure use your medic skills.”
With a weird look on his face he replied, “Oh no Sir, my job was to get you here safely. Like I said, I done that. Now, I gotta go.” With that, Master Sergeant Emmet Forsyth snapped to attention, saluted, and turned to leave.
“You can’t leave just yet Sergeant,” I spoke up. With my arm screaming in pain, I slowly offered my right hand to him in a handshake manner. “I still owe you a handshake,” I said smiling as best as I could through my still swollen jaw.
Emmet reached out, and took my hand that was barely above hanging at my side, and shook it. “Gen’ral, until we meet again,” he said with emphasis as he turned and left.
Hannah and I stood there watching him walk off with Bessie trailing behind him. I kept shifting my weight as I watched him walk out of sight. “Sometimes there are angels who walk among us. Emmet Forsyth, Esquire was my angel. He saved my life. In that there is no doubt,” I said to Hannah.
The other soldier’s wives had walked out from hiding and were all circling around me. I could see they were looking in the direction I just came from. They were looking for their husbands. They were looking for their brothers, looking for their sons. “I’m the only one left. I am sorry, no one else is coming” I said as I dropped my head and looked at the ground beneath me.
Feeling their hurt, feeling their anger as they looked at me, I wished once again that I were dead. How could I have survived and the others did not? One of the older ladies in the group walked up to me. She was always the sweetest lady. She never had a cross word for anyone. I looked to her expecting some words of encouragement and support as she raised her hand and reached up and slapped my face sending my neck in a quick snap to the right. “I wish you were dead too!” she said as she turned and walked off.
In the camp, I saw signs of struggle, signs of a battle. “What happened here Hannah?” I asked.
As the other wives cried and began mumbling as they walked off back to the wood line, Hannah answered. “Most of us were down at the stream doing the washing. We heard a lot of noise up here. We had thought it was all of you coming back from the attack. We came back about an hour later and all of the kids were gone. They took all of the kids Paul. We searched for days. There is no sign of them anywhere. It’s like they just vanished.”
As my calf throbbed with pain I dropped to my knees and began weeping uncontrollably. “Lily? Abby?” I asked.
Hannah dropped to her knees beside me and cried with me. “Gone,” she said.
How much more could I take, how much more could I endure? I was losing everything that I held dear.
It was just a few days later, when I had recovered enough to move, that we left that camp. I could not take the staring by the others, the angry words I heard behind my back nor the hurt, pain and resentment. I was done with fighting. I was done with everything. We were off to find our daughters, off to find out one way or another if they were dead or alive.
For months we searched day and night for our daughters. We travelled the land looking for clues, looking for people who had seen or heard anything. At first we travelled across towns. Towns led to cities and cities l
ed to states. We always seemed to be weeks, even months behind the trail. Somehow, in the course of over a year, the search for Lily and Abby led us to New York. Once in New York, we knew that we were close, but we never could quite close the deal and find them. To have them back now, it was much more than a miracle to me. To have them back now, it was as if God himself had given them back to me.
“Honey, are you okay?” she asked. Stirring within the covers, and raising my head, I saw Hannah’s face in the dim light. “You were having a nightmare,” she said. I looked in the corner of the tent, to Lily and Abby sleeping. I lay my head back down.
“No. No nightmare honey—just remembering is all—just remembering,” I replied.
“Want to talk about it,” she asked.
“No!” was my reply as I drifted back off to sleep.
Chapter 6
Leaving Camp
Return to Table of Contents
“In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on.”
—Robert Frost
After a restless night we were all up early preparing to march to the Alabama militia’s camp. It was a cold crisp foggy morning. I stood there looking out over the horizon at the once beautiful New York landscape. Adam walked up beside me and handed me a steaming cup of coffee. We said nothing, we just looked out at the beauty before us occasionally taking sips of coffee. Hannah walked up with her coffee and joined us. With a light sigh I broke the silence, “Well the bastards can’t take this from us can they?”
Coffee was a luxury in 2028. You can probably find caviar easier than you can find coffee. But, every once in a while we would raid a socialist camp when they were out looking for resisters, and if we were lucky, we would come across fresh water, some food, and on rare occasions, coffee. There used to be a commercial on television that advertised Folgers coffee, ‘Good to the last drop’ they said. Folgers has long since closed shop, but the South Carolina militia had some stashed when we met up with them. “Indeed. Good to the last drop,” I said as I raised the old coffee cup up to my lips.
Adam chuckled, “I was just thinking the same thing.”
With that, we turned to our duties and began preparing again for our impending march.
The process of setting up a campsite can be quite quick and efficient. The process of tearing a campsite down and packing it up is not so much so. There is so much packing and so much care to be taken, especially with regard to the tents. It’s not like we can waltz down to the Wal-Mart anymore and buy a tent. We can’t order tents online and have them delivered to us. No, we were stuck with what we currently had, or were able to acquire from the socialist soldiers after a battle.
Lily and Abby were starting to relax a little and were helping out with the duties of packing up. I actually saw them talking to Adam briefly out in front of the tent. Lily seemed to be doing more looking at Adam than talking. Abby seemed to be her usual talkative self.
Lily was the first. From the day she was born I never really had to worry about her. She had grown into quite a young lady. Despite having been a prisoner-of-war for the last three years, she was looking remarkably well. Standing five-feet-five inches tall, she was thin, but not overly so. She kept her long flowing brown hair tied up in a ponytail most days. Her big blue eyes opened a doorway to her soul that everyone could see into, but rarely could anyone enter. She had always been very guarded and protective of her feelings. She rarely shared them with anyone, especially “Dear Old Dad”. Watching her with Adam, shifting her feet side to side, she watched Adam and Abby interact. She looked different now. She seemed more grown up than her twenty-four years would suggest. She was a natural athlete and back in the day was quite the ball player. Well, up until this god-forsaken war changed everything for her.
Abby was completely different from Lily. They were as different as the night is from the day. Abby was a chatterbox. She never met anyone that she did not like. Abby stood five-feet-six inches tall and was of average height and build. Her big brown eyes were tantalizing and could stare into your soul. She sized people up quickly, and used to be an excellent marksman with a long gun. But, who knows how good she is at anything after three years as a prisoner.
“What are you looking at General?” Adam asked quizzically as he walked up to me.
“I was just watching you with Lily and Abby. At least they seem to be talking to someone. Thanks for taking the time with them,” I said.
“No need to thank me General. They are awesome. I think they are going to fit in nicely with the group. They seem to be doing well considering,” he stated as he looked back at them and smiled.
“I guess so. It helps that you are close to their age, maybe they can connect to that. With Hannah and me, we’re just Mom and Dad who do not know anything. Do you know what I mean?” I asked.
“I know exactly what you mean,” he replied.
General Thomas walked up. “Paul, the scouts have left for Vermont,” he said as he handed me a map. “If you’ll notice the X at Brattleboro, that’s where we will meet up with the scouts. They should have some information for us by the time we get there in about 18 days,” he said.
“Thanks Grant,” I replied. “Do you really think that the Alabama militia will be there for us to intersect?” I asked.
“I certainly hope so. We could sure use their men,” he commented.
“It’s coming isn’t it Grant?” I asked with a concerned look on my face.
Looking at me with a similar look of concern, Grant replied, “If you’re asking if the battle to end the war is coming, well I am afraid that it is, Paul. I am afraid that it is.”
Sally Ann Thomas walked up and placed a small kiss on her husband’s cheek. “Good morning Sugar,” she said as she smiled up at him and gently squeezed his right butt cheek.
“Sally!” General Thomas exclaimed as his face turned several shades of red.
“Well darling, you are my man. Can’t I give you a little affection if I want to?” she asked.
“The men Sally Ann, the men do not need to see such displays of affection when we are getting ready to march,” he stated.
Sally Ann Thomas. What a true dreamboat she was. Just the mention of her name and men would quiver. If there were, ever a more southern woman to walk the face of the earth, no one would know it. Sally Ann Thomas was the epitome of a modern day sex symbol. The woman stood six-feet tall and a slim 145 pounds. She had legs that would stop a train, with perfectly-toned calves from years of weighted toe raises in the gym. I’m sure she had breast implants before all of this implosion of the government started, because they were absolutely perfectly formed. Her extremely long blonde hair flowed straight down her back, almost to the bottom of her butt cheeks. Her big brown eyes would pierce through a man’s soul. Most days, she could be seen, wandering around the campsite in a long flowing southern belle dress full of lots of lace. She would carry a lacy umbrella over her head to keep the sun off her golden hair. Yes, she was truly a beautiful woman. But, no one ever told her that, out of fear of what her extremely jealous husband would do to them. Grant and Sally Ann Thomas were a perfect fit in their marriage.
“Why Sally Ann Thomas!” exclaimed Hannah as she walked up and hugged Sally Ann. “We have so much catching up to do,” she said as they wandered off chatting and cavorting like two school girls. They were joined by Lily and Abby and they all hugged and continued walking toward a nearby tent.
General Grant Thomas, Adam and I stood there with not a word among us as we watched them walk back to the supply tent that was being dis-assembled. Who knows what ideas were going through Grant and Adam’s minds? But I certainly know what was going through mine. And, marching across New York to meet the Alabama militia was not it.
“Well,” I said as I cleared my throat. “Will we be ready to leave soon?”
Still watching the ladies as they entered the tent Adam replied slowly, “Any time General.”
Within thirty minutes or so, our rag-tag band of ab
out two hundred soldiers and another sixty people to include wives, girlfriends, and children left our camp and began the march toward what was supposed to be the Alabama militia’s camp site.
“I sure hope they are there,” I stated.
“Where’s a phone when you need one?” Adam asked with a chuckle.
Grant, in a rare show of emotion began chuckling. “Amen to that Adam,” he stated.
“Yeah Grant, you could use it to call ahead and get you and Sally a room,” I said with a grin while slapping him on his back.
The redness returned to his face, “Damn it Paul!” he exclaimed as he started to grin himself.
Yes, we were a rag-tag group of survivors. But we still had some humor and life to us. The Socialists could not take that from us. No matter how hard they tried, they would not break our spirit. My thoughts turned to The Bear.
The Conspiracy of American Democracy - A Father's Revenge Page 5
