CSS Appomattox: A Thomas Devareaux Alternative History Military Adventure (The Thomas Sumter Devareaux Series Book 1)

by Chris Stoesen

Almond swallowed and looked rather nervous. He closed his eyes and said quietly.

  “On holidays, Christmas mostly. I go about once or twice a year.”

  “Good, that is doable. You will still be able to do Christmas. How often do you write?”

  Almond frowned at the question. This was not going as he expected. Then again, he had no idea what to expect. This was new territory for him.

  “Well, once a month or so. Why?”

  “Because you will probably not be able to continue to keep that up. We will have someone else manage your correspondence. You will be fine. We have some ladies who are quite excellent writers. They will need an example or two of your letters so they can follow in the same pattern.”

  Devareaux’s head cleared from the fog that the rapid developments had put there and finally asked.

  “What about our crew and our marines?”

  “Why they are still your crew. We will have them transferred or move them to various commands. They were assigned to the Appomattox with the thought that one day we might need to do this. A few had complicated families. They have all been either killed in action, retired or transferred out following the loss of the Appomattox.”

  Without a doubt, this has been the strangest day of Almond’s life. It was not much better for Devareaux either.

  Chapter 21: Beginnings

  Devareaux moved his trunk into the small house near the beach. He went through the items in the trunk looking for anything he could not depart with. He had uniforms, books and very few other valuables. In truth, the only item he had was the watch. That he was keeping. He still had two scented handkerchiefs from Ann and a small bundle of her letters that had not yet been consigned to the fire. He locked the trunk and placed it at the foot of the bed.

  He sighed. Then he picked up and uncorked the bottle of cognac and poured it over the floor. He stepped lightly over the body that Roe’s men had kindly provided. From the other room, he tossed the cognac bottle into the room so it shattered and splashed the contents over the body. Five other empty bottles lay around the small house.

  He looked out of the window at the shoreline beyond. There was no moon. It was dark. The sky was beautiful. The stars stood out and provided just enough light to make out the shape on the water. He could not hear the oars above the sound of the surf.

  Devareaux picked up the fireplace poker and tapped the oil lamp and it shattered on the floor next to the dead body. Devareaux jumped backwards to avoid the now flaming liquid as it leapt out towards him. The floor began to be eagerly consumed. The cognac caught and set the body ablaze.

  It was the body of an elderly Negro who had died at a local hospital alone. No one had visited the man nor had a family come to claim the body. Devareaux saluted the man and silently thanked him for his service to his country. Devareaux then opened the door quietly and left. He bent low and ran toward the approaching row boat.

  …

  Almond wrote a letter to his sister Emily. He opened the book and pulled out the page with the cut out words. He filled in the real message. Then he spent the next three hours writing the letter to his sister. He crafted it well. It seemed banal and meaningless. It spoke about the death of Devareaux. It talked about a girl Devareaux had just broken up with. He spoke about the memorial service that he had attended at the Episcopal Church outside of the base. He commented on the homily. He inquired about Emily’s health. He asked about Father and Mother. Mostly, he strove for ordinary and normal topics that would be guaranteed to not to raise eyebrows.

  Once he finished, he took the cut page and burned it in his quarter’s fireplace. He guessed that the letter would be read now that Signals Bureau was involved. But he did not fear getting caught. He would give this one to Roe, who would have his girls make similar letters in the future and mail this one.

  He was quiet for a moment before signing the letter and putting Emily’s address on an envelope. It had been only his second such letter since joining the crew of the Appomattox. Now it was also his final letter.

  …

  When Lieutenant Benjamin arrived on Egg Island, he was impressed. He was wearing borrowed civilian clothes that did not fit well. The officer at the dock had pointed him towards the headquarters. It was rather obvious as it was the only building with a huge metal antenna poking from the roof.

  He entered the headquarters building and asked the secretary if he could speak to the base commander.

  The plain looking middle aged lady looked at him over the top of her spectacles while continuing to type on the Hansen Writing Ball mounted into her desk. It was a strange looking device. With a round keyboard that was implanted into the desk. The keys pushed down on the paper that was loaded below the keyboard. There was a small viewing port that she could look through to see the paper below. It was a very expensive machine that was imported from Europe.

  Benjamin had never seen one before. The Marine Corps did not have such machines, but he had heard about them. He did read about a similar machine that Remington had made and another that some other company had been working on that you could see what you were typing as you typed it. This device had to be used by a near expert to prevent mistakes.

  The lady whose name plate on her desk read Ms. Jenkins frowned. She then looked at Benjamin, deciding if he was worth disturbing her boss. Eventually she stood and pursed her lips.

  “Please have a seat while I check with Colonel Graham.”

  With that, she left the room and walked down a short hall. Benjamin sat being completely unwilling to defy Ms. Jenkins. He believed that she was probably the one person on the base that it would behoove him not to offend.

  A full five minutes passed before Ms. Jenkins returned. She had a look of supreme disapproval on her face. Seeing that Benjamin had followed instructions her features softened by a fraction of a degree.

  “Colonel Graham will see you now. Please follow me.”

  He stood and followed Ms. Jenkins down the hall. Walking behind, Benjamin took a quick moment to appreciate her form. She was a fine looking woman. She was fashionably slim waisted. If he could coax a smile out of her face, she would probably change from plain to beautiful. But the cold look she kept on her face ensured her distance from anyone around her. It was a shame. He would love to see more of what was underneath that lovely blue dress.

  She held the door for him and scowled. Benjamin gave her his most winning smile and gave her a small bow.

  “Thank you for the courtesy ma’am.”

  Then he entered the colonel’s office without giving her another look. He was curious how she would react, but he did not want to turn as it might undo anything he might have achieved. He was going to play it aloof and figure out how to keep visiting.

  Ms. Jenkins closed the door behind them without a sound and he could hear her footsteps going away down the hallway.

  “Lieutenant Benjamin, please have a seat.”

  Benjamin muttered a yes sir and quickly took a seat and assumed a seated position of attention until he could see how this was going to go.

  The colonel was in uniform. Like most SB types that he had seen so far, he was in army grays with only Signals Bureau tabs and his colonel rank insignia. His hair was salt and pepper colored and close cropped to his scalp to hide the fact that it was thinning. His eyes were dark and intense.

  On the polished wood desk that the colonel sat behind, a single file folder lay open on the desk. The colonel glanced down at the papers in the file folder.

  “Well, interesting. We don’t see many officers who have come up from the ranks since the late war. You have had an interesting career. You have shown yourself to not only to be brave, but you are smart enough about it not to be a dead hero. I understand why you were recommended to be an officer, but do you think that you can handle the responsibilities?”

  “Sir, I am a marine.”

  Benjamin just left it at that. That was the full explanation. It caught the colonel off guard. He blinked and waited. When it was
apparent that there was no additional explanation forthcoming, the Colonel Graham broke out in a smile.

  “I see. I now feel so much more secure. Lieutenant Marine, you have accepted a transfer into the Signals Bureau. We have a force of some 35 other marines and soldiers on base including most of your former command. Many of these men have rank. You have more sergeants and corporals than would be normal in a force of that size. These men are all long service veterans. The army personnel have all served against the Indian tribes out West. Several of the marines served as mercenaries in Chile during their revolution. Do you think you can handle them?”

  “Yes Sir.”

  Benjamin still sat stiffly with his eyes staring off into the distance. Graham sighed.

  “At ease, Benjamin. This is a friendly interview. You were promoted because you are a good leader. The others can lead, but they are better soldiers. You had ambition as well. You and your men will be deployed in hazardous situations. We will possibly attempt boarding actions at night with your men. The boarding action would be attempted from an airship. You and your men have tried it. The others have been through the training program that you have but have not attempted a descent from a moving airship. Is this an assignment that you are truly interested in?”

  Benjamin’s eyes glittered and he slowly said with passion.

  “Yes Sir!”

  …

  Stoe, Thompson and Octavius stepped off of a boat at high noon. The heat on the island was oppressive, but it was Georgia in late spring so not unusual. They were met by a wilted young officer. His uniform was sweat stained and his forehead was beaded. He nodded to the men and began speaking with the sound of the hills of Tennessee in his voice.

  “Gentlemen, please follow me to your quarters. Your gear will be brought from the boat to your rooms shortly.”

  They trudged across the open field from the dock to the row of several three story brick buildings. There were four of them. The hum of a steam engine could be heard from somewhere. They walked down a worn path through the clipped grass of the field that headed directly for the building.

  When they got to the building, they saw that there were name plates on each of the doors. An outdoor stairwell framed each of the corners of the building. From what they could see, the building was in a square shape with doors to the outside for each of the rooms. Each door was twenty feet apart and there were five doors on each side that they had been able to see.

  Reaching Octavius’ room first, they noticed that there was a number on each of the doors. Octavius was in room 4.

  The officer shrugged.

  “The upper floors are already claimed. Each room has a private bathroom. There is heat in the winter from the steam engine and fans in each of the rooms that you can control to stave off the heat in the summer. It is also powered by the steam engine. The mess hall is over there.”

  He pointed vaguely to his left to indicate the mess hall.

  “You are free to swim on the beach on your off hours. For days when you have leave, there are ferries that we operate between Brunswick and here. From there, you can access the train station to points beyond. There is not much else to do here.”

  He opened the door to Octavius’ room.

  “All of the rooms are nearly identical to one another. You have a living room, a bathroom and a bedroom. There is no restriction on who can visit and stay in your room but there are restrictions on who can be on the island so prepare to be bored. If there are no other questions, I will leave you to get settled. There is a book in each room that has the information about the camp. It has meal times and such. Your commanding officer should be along after a while.”

  Before they could ask a question, the officer was walking quickly back to the headquarters building. The men turned to their new accommodations and began to explore. It was much more spacious than any previous berth that they had been assigned. With the fans rendered the rooms rather livable and much cooler than the outside heat.

  Stoe looked through the heat haze on the open ground in the center of the buildings and shook his head and wondered what he had gotten himself into. They entered the room and saw that it was spacious and had a back door that opened to a central garden. From the back door, they could see that the bottom floor on the back side of the building had only four rooms and a large entryway was present that led straight to the garden from the outside. It was quite lovely and peaceful there. This could be a comfortable place.

  Over the next three days, most of the former crew and marines met and regrouped with one another. There was an enlisted club that was adjoined to the mess hall. They spent the first day looking around the island, exploring and catching up with their friends. The naval personnel took advantage of the time off.

  The marines, however, began to train. Benjamin introduced himself that evening to the new members of his detail as well as his former marines from the Appomattox. He began a physical fitness regimen to ensure his men stayed in top form. He also trained them on rappelling techniques and did sand exercises on boarding actions from an airship.

  On the third day, a ship entered the dock. It was rather large and bore the name Santa Maria de Santiago. Underneath the name was a small Chilean flag. It was unusually designed. The superstructure was entirely in the stern of the ship. The deck was largely open, but had a low structure that ran for most of its length. A sharp eye would note that the ship was some four hundred feet in length.

  The crew remained on board, but a single officer and a civilian stepped onto the gangway and descended to the doc.

  …

  Devareaux looked at the island with its buildings and training grounds. It did not look like much. But it was about to be his new home. He stopped halfway down the gangway to do his scan. While he was there, Tobias stepped up next to him and joined his gaze.

  A crane started lowering some gear from the deck to the dock below. The two men continued their walk towards the administration facility.

  It seemed word had spread that they had been spotted. What Tobias and Devareaux found was a formation of both marines and naval personnel in formation and waiting for them. Bosun Hargrave called the party to attention and they rendered a proper military salute. Devareaux was moved by their display and returned their salute. He smiled at his crew.

  “I need to report in, but I will be back to catch up with you in a minute gentlemen.”

  With that Tobias and Devareaux continued to the administration building.

  Chapter 22: Deployment

  The command element was gathered in the conference room in the administration building. The people who were present included all of the section heads from the Appomattox, her officers and Tobias. From the Santa Maria de Santiago, there was the Captain, its first Lieutenant and a Signals Branch Operations Officer. Representing the base, only Colonel Graham was present.

  The captain of the Santa Maria de Santiago was Captain John Edmund Lewis. He was in his late forties. He was a long service officer of the Confederate Navy. He was one of the officers who volunteered with the Chilean Navy during the Chincha Islands War from 1864 to 1866. After a single 12 month tour of service, he returned. He was a passed midshipman in charge of a gun battery during the course of the year. He was a very professional and efficient officer. His best trait was a dry sense of humor that fully would come to bear when in extreme moments of stress. He became a legend in the service when, after firing on a smaller Spanish warship during the Chincha Islands War, he had dryly commented ‘that will leave a mark’ as the enemy ship exploded.

  His second in command was Lieutenant Gerald Elmore Reynolds. He was a Texan through and through. He was tall, strong and competent. The man looked as if he should be riding a horse rather than be on a ship’s deck.

  Then there was Lieutenant Reece Andrew Bingham, the Signals Bureau officer. He was extremely serious and in the course of several days of meetings, Devareaux had never seen him smile. But on the bright side, Bingham seemed to know what he was doing.

/>   The meetings were really briefings by Tobias and Reece. The ship was in reality an airship tender. The structure on the deck was built to secure the gondola of the airship. The Santiago held a full ground crew and replacement parts to support the airship. Fuel, helium, supplies and ammunition were all present.

  The new airship was made with some particular changes. First off, the bow and stern gun positions were made to be modular. They now could either serve Winans guns or they could be replaced with dual Gatling gun mounts. The theory was that Winans guns were great against other airships, but against ships or personnel, the Gatling guns were able to fire faster and were more accurate than the Winans guns.

  Next was the rocket battery. This could be removed and replaced with a rappelling bay. Mounts for seven ropes were present in this version. Now a total of 14 men could descend at once instead of two at a time. This allowed the airship to become a troop transport.

  In their first mission, this was the manner in which the newer airship was going to be utilized.

  “Excuse me, what is the name of the new airship?”

  Devareaux looked from person to person at the table wanting to know.

  Reece just shrugged his shoulders.

  “It is designated X-12 at the moment.”

  All of the naval and marine personnel reacted with revulsion. It was universally accepted that X-12 was a terrible name that no ship deserved.

  Midshipman Powell raised his hand. It was things like this that reminded Devareaux how young the man was. He nodded to him to encourage Powell to speak.

  “What about the CSS Shenandoah? She was commissioned by Signals Branch but not completed until after hostilities were ended. She sank in a storm in 1872 so the name is not currently in use.”

  That made the entire group silent for a time. They mulled it over. It had promise, but they all decided to reject it. It did prompt several other suggestions. But it actually came back to Appomattox. After a half hour side bar discussion, the airship was now named CSS Appomattox II. The Appy was reborn in her sister.