Today We Go Home

by Kelli Estes

  * * *

  The camp felt no different from the Alabama prison. Sure, she could look up at the wide-open sky, was given food three times a day, and could go to the privy without asking permission first, but she still did not have her freedom.

  She’d posted a letter to Ben, in care of the 9th Indiana Infantry wherever they might be located now, but knew there was no guarantee it would reach him.

  She watched as day after day more men were sent back to their regiments, on to join new ones, or home to their families. All she could do was wait for her orders. When George Harris marched past her tent toward the train that would carry him back to his regiment, Emily copied the other men and called, “Go get ’em, George!”

  George ignored her and kept his eyes forward.

  Emily felt like she was dying, waiting to be sent somewhere—anywhere. Finally, finally, she was back with the Federal Army and she could look for her brother. She wanted to go to him today. Now. But every time she asked to be sent to rejoin her regiment, she was told to wait. When she’d offered to travel to wherever they might be on her own, she’d been denied and told to wait.

  Wait for what? For orders.

  What orders? Whose orders? The lack of information was infuriating. Didn’t they understand? She had to find Ben. She had to be with him and protect him better than she’d protected Willie.

  Willie.

  Thinking her name was more than Emily could bear. Feeling sick to her stomach, she poured out the rest of the coffee she had been drinking and got to her feet to walk off the unwanted emotions threatening to spill over. She couldn’t leave camp without a pass, but she could pace down the rows of tents and back again.

  “Private Wilson?” An orderly was walking toward her, calling her name. “Private Jesse Wilson?”

  “Yes, that’s me,” she answered. “Have my orders come in?”

  The man did not answer. He stared at her with bored eyes until, finally, he said, “Your presence is commanded at headquarters.” He smartly pivoted and marched away, not looking to see if she followed.

  The wait was finally over. She would return to Ben today! Emily hurried to catch up to the orderly and stayed right on his heels the whole way to the one-room house that served as camp headquarters.

  To her surprise, the room was full of officers in uniform. At least seven men turned as she stepped through the door, all scrutinizing her with narrowed eyes. No one said a word.

  She stepped to the front of the desk in the middle of the room and smartly saluted. “Private Wilson reporting, sir!”

  No one spoke. Floorboards creaked as one man shifted his weight. Another coughed.

  Finally, the man behind the desk stood. “Private Wilson, I am General Ellington. This man to my left is Provost Marshal Gillem, and the man next to him is Dr. Hawkins, who will be performing a medical inspection of your person.”

  Emily took a step back, alarmed. “Whatever for? I assure you I am in good health.” Her body grew cold. Had George turned her in before he left?

  General Ellington wearily lifted a piece of paper from his desk. “It seems you may not be who you say you are. We received this letter from a man who says he is your uncle, claiming that you are a woman impersonating a man and a soldier. How do you respond to these charges?”

  How had Uncle Samuel found her? She could not breathe. Her lungs strained to fill, but she could not manage to draw air into them. Flashes of light flickered in her vision, and she searched the room for a friendly face, an ally who might help her. Every man there had some version of the general’s expression—lip curled in contempt, eyes full of disgust. Every man except the one standing in the corner wearing civilian clothes and scribbling on a pad of paper. His eyes looked delighted.

  “It’s a lie!” she finally managed. “Of course I am a man. I’ve been serving for seven months now, honorably I might add, including in the battles of Allegheny Mountain and Pittsburg Landing where I last saw my brother. I’ve also been a prisoner for the last several weeks. I’ve proven my worth. Please, I need to find my brother.” Her hands shook so much she had to press her palms hard against the seams of her trousers.

  The provost marshal cleared his throat. “Impersonating a man is a serious offense. Impersonating a soldier even more serious. The Confederacy has already sent spies into our ranks posing as soldiers, and there are women among them. If found guilty, spies are hung for treason. Do you understand?”

  A tremble shook her entire body. “I’m not a spy!”

  “So, you do admit you are a woman?”

  “What? No!” She was becoming flustered and knew she had to calm down and think straight. “Look, Uncle Samuel is a hard man. I’m certain he was not keen on being left with all the work on the farm when my brother and I departed. This is his way of making me go home, that’s all. Let me go, and I’ll return home and clear this up. You won’t be bothered by my family again. I’ll see to it.”

  The general curled his lips so they disappeared into his beard and mustache. He studied her for another second, then gave a curt nod.

  Before she realized what was happening, two men had grabbed her arms, restraining her. “What is the meaning of this? I am a soldier for the United States of America!”

  “Until we have proof of your sex, you will forgive us if we don’t take you at your word.” The general got to his feet. “Doctor, we will step outside while you perform your inspection. How many men do you require to assist you?”

  “Those two ought to do,” the doctor answered, nodding to the two men holding her.

  Emily struggled, terrified of whatever was about to happen to her. The men holding her arms twisted them, sending a stab of pain through her shoulders. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.

  When the room had cleared of all but the three men, the doctor rounded the desk to stand before her. She was surprised to see he was a young man, no older than his late twenties, she would venture. A full head of dark hair melded into heavy patches of hair on the sides of his face with the rest shaved clean to reveal a strong jaw and full lips. When he smiled, she saw his teeth were straight and clean. Kindness filled his eyes and she knew if she’d encountered him anywhere else but here, she would think him handsome. “Now, Private Wilson, if that is your name. Let us get this over with, shall we?”

  To her horror, he reached for the rope that she used as a belt and started tugging it loose. For the first time, she realized what he meant to do and felt her entire body light on fire with shame. “No, please,” she begged. “Don’t do this.” She folded at the hips, trying to pull away from his searching hands, but the men holding her tightened their grips and prevented escape.

  The doctor’s gaze flickered over her face, and she saw a hint of regret there. “I’m only doing my job, Private.” He finished undoing her belt and proceeded to unbutton her trousers.

  Emily closed her eyes and wished she were anywhere but there. She’d even choose to be on the battlefield staring down a line of Rebel muskets pointed straight at her rather than endure this. When the doctor put his hands on either side of her hips to grab fistfuls of her trousers and yank them down, she could not silence a whimper.

  The men froze. Emily, still with her eyes squeezed shut, felt a draft of cold air where no breeze should touch, and certainly no male eyes should either. Hot shame coursed through her, and she wished she could melt into a puddle and disappear through the floorboards.

  “I’ll be…” said one of the guards as though he’d never seen a female body before.

  Emily’s body buckled. She slipped free of the men’s grasp and fell, her body folding to hide her nakedness. When she felt her bare bottom hit the cold, gritty floor, she felt the last of her control snap and she sobbed. Even as she tried to cover herself with one hand, she buried her face in the other and cried, knowing it was all over.

  One of the guards tried to grab her
arm and pull her to her feet, but the doctor stopped him with a command. “No, leave her be.” To Emily, he ordered, “Cover yourself, madam, before the rest of the officers return, or your shame will be that much worse.”

  Horrified at the thought of more men seeing her most private self, she managed to get back on her feet and fasten her trousers. Without asking for permission, she stumbled into a corner and curled into a chair to await the announcement of her fate.

  How had Samuel found her? The question would not stop battling around in her mind. His betrayal hurt. But the worse betrayal she felt was that done by these officers. To them, she was nothing more than a body. She wasn’t a person. Certainly not a human worthy of respect and honor. Did they care that she had stood shoulder to shoulder upon the battlefield to defend her country? No. All they cared about was the sex organ between her legs, and upon confirming she was female, they now considered her worthless. Even now, as the men tromped back inside and were given the verdict from the doctor, no one cared enough to hand her a handkerchief to dry her tears. They looked at her with eyes full of disgust.

  “It seems we have ourselves a bit of a dilemma,” the general said to her as he settled back into his chair behind the desk. “What should we do with you?”

  “I bet she doesn’t even have a brother,” one man said, his voice full of innuendo. “Probably followed a lover into the Army and then serviced the entire regiment.”

  Most of the men laughed, including the doctor. The general just sighed. When the laughter died down, he turned to Emily. “What is your name?”

  “Jesse Wilson,” she answered, refusing to give them what they wanted.

  “Jessie? As in Jessica or Jessamyn?”

  “Just Jesse.”

  “Your uncle’s letter says your name is Emily.”

  She looked him straight in the eyes and said, “My name is Jesse.”

  His eyebrows rose in disbelief, but he let it go. “Jesse, what can you tell us of your movements in the U.S. Army?”

  Emily looked at him, then at the other faces in the room all staring at her, and realized that if she did not answer their questions, they might follow through on their threat to have her hung as a spy. She swallowed and dropped her feet to the floor. She ached to hide away, but she forced herself to meet the general’s gaze squarely. He was the only one who had not laughed at her. “After our older brother, David, died of typhoid last summer, my brother, Benjamin, and I enlisted in his old regiment, the 9th Indiana Infantry. It was our father’s regiment, too, you see, before he was killed at Laurel Mountain. We wanted to do our duty to our country, same as Pa and David. I can fight the same as any man.”

  She told them all she could remember of the last seven months, with the exception of any mention of Willie. She would not be the one to tarnish Willie’s memory in anyone’s mind. As far as these men were concerned, Emily was the only woman to have ever served.

  “And then you brought me here today,” she finished. She clasped her hands together. “Please, sirs, I beg you. Please allow me to return to my regiment. I need to find my brother. I don’t even know if he is still alive.”

  The general shook his head. “I will not send you back to the field. You can no longer impersonate a soldier, do you understand me?”

  Emily had to look away from his accusing glare. She had not been impersonating a soldier. She had been a soldier. “Yes, sir.”

  “And furthermore, if I allow you to walk out of here a free woman, you will do so wearing the proper garments of your sex, do I make myself clear?”

  He must no longer suspect she was a spy. Relief made her nearly start sobbing again, but she swallowed it back and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Now,” the general said, planting his palms on his desk and addressing his men. “See that she is escorted to a cell at the city jail, where she is to be held until which time a decision and the necessary arrangements are made.”

  “But, sir,” Emily interrupted. “What about my brother? I need to find him. He is the last of my family!”

  The general seemed to soften at that and held up a hand so the men escorting her would pause. “Miss Wilson, your brother was killed in battle at Pittsburg Landing. After your uncle was notified of his death, he wrote to us asking about you. That’s how you came to our attention.”

  Emily tried to draw in a breath, but she found her lungs would only accept small sips of air, and each one felt like blades of ice slicing up her insides. Ben was dead. Before she broke down in front of these heartless men, she turned and walked on her own volition toward the door, the two guards at her sides.

  “Oh, and, Miss Wilson,” she heard the general call after her. “Here is a letter from your aunt. You can read it once you’re settled.” The guard to her left took the folded paper and tucked it into his coat pocket.

  Numbly, Emily went where they took her, no longer caring what happened to her.

  * * *

  The city jail was nothing like the Confederate prison where she’d been confined in Alabama. This prison reeked of mold, rotting food, and human excrement. It held civilian prisoners including thieves, murderers, prostitutes operating without a license, and a number of black men whose crimes she could not determine. After being searched and having her possessions, including her diary containing Willie’s handkerchief and ring, taken from her, she was shoved into a barred cell with two very foul-smelling women.

  “This is where you belong,” the guard sneered, “with the other whores.” The keys clanged as he turned them in the lock, and then he shoved something through the bars. “I’m s’posed to give you this. Not that you’re smart enough to read it.” He dropped the paper and walked away.

  Harriet’s letter. A part of Emily wanted to leave it lying in the dirt, but then she remembered that Harriet had always been kind to her. It was Samuel who had turned her in. She picked up the letter and moved as far away as she could from the other women. One of them whistled at her.

  “Y’all sure got spunk, traipsing around in that getup,” said the older one with white hair. “Take that from your man, did ye?”

  When Emily didn’t answer, the other woman, who sported a black eye and a green bruise on her cheek, said, “I bet she stole the uniform so she could blend into the camps and work her way through the men, tent by tent.”

  “Oh, now isn’t that a sweet idea?” the older woman gushed. “If I was ten years younger, I’d do the same thing myself. Take the goods to the customers, I say. Is that what you were doing, dearie? When you got caught?”

  Deciding her best course would be to ignore them, Emily sat on a filthy cot. Exhaustion rolled over her like a wave. Ben was dead. How would she bear this pain?

  “If you’re going to be like that,” huffed the younger woman, “we don’t want to talk to you either!” She turned her back to Emily and reached her hand over to clamp onto the other woman’s shoulder, making her turn away, too.

  Forcing herself not to think about all the offensive things that might be lingering on the cot, Emily lay on her side and unfolded the letter from her aunt. Tears stung her eyes when she saw Aunt Harriet’s familiar handwriting.

  Dear Emily,

  I hope we don’t get you in trouble by asking the Army to find you. I’ve been so worried, and when we learned about Ben, I was desperate for word of you. We did not know where you two had gone or what had happened to you! Upon learning that Ben enlisted, I had a feeling that’s what you did, too, since you wanted to go with your pa and David when they left. But the war is no place for a woman!

  I’m sorry to tell you that home is not as you left it, my dear. Your uncle was furious when he found you and Ben gone. The burden was too great for him alone, and he was forced to sell off most of the north fields. As soon as this war is over, he says he will sell the entire farm and move us back to be near his family in Virginia. You are welcome to come home and live with us,
and move with us when we go, but I must be honest and tell you that your uncle is not too keen on you after what you’ve done.

  I pray every night that you are safe. Write to me as soon as you receive this. Please know I love you very much. Andrew and Ada also send their love.

  With God,

  Harriet

  Emily cried as she folded the letter, knowing she would never return to Indiana. There was nothing left there for her.

  “Hey, you!” A male voice jarred her out of her misery. A mean-looking guard stood there, rubbing one hand absently up and down one of the bars of her cell. The way he was staring at her made her uneasy, and when he licked his lips, she felt her skin crawl. She drew her legs up to her chest and hugged her knees.

  “Why don’t you stand up and let me see your purty uniform?”

  “No,” she spit out, a greasy uneasiness filling her stomach.

  “I bet you know how to make a man happy, now don’t you? How ’bout you come over here so we can talk? You need a friend in a place like this, you know.”

  Emily didn’t doubt it, but she had a feeling this man would be no friend to her. “No, thank you,” she told him, knowing she shouldn’t anger him. “I’m exhausted and need to sleep.”

  “Come on, darling, it’ll just take a minute.”

  “I know how to make you happy,” purred the black-eyed woman across the cell as she stepped toward the bars, hips swaying.

  The guard’s smile widened. “I bet you do.”

  Emily ignored them and closed her eyes. She’d never before hated being a woman like she did now.

  She’d never before been entirely alone like she was now.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  May 27, 1862: City Jail, Nashville, Tennessee

  Emily lifted the skirts she’d been forced to put on, hating that they tripped her as she climbed the short flight of steps into the provost marshal’s office. The corset and bodice of the dress fit her snugly and felt much like her chest bindings had felt all these months, so they didn’t bother her. The sleeves of the dress, however, bothered her very much. They were fitted to the elbow and from there became layers of lace to her wrists, all of it so confining and bothersome she struggled to lift her arms more than waist high. She’d have to rip the darn things off if she wanted to shoot her musket.