by J. R. Ayers
“Yes. What do you want me to do, sir?”
“Sit tight for now. We’ll decide something after these rains stop.”
“Where are the others from the regiment?”
“There are two of our companies up in the hills and all of Colonel Rip Ford’s regiments are west of here at Boca Chica. You can join up with his boys when he stops by to re-supply. If the Yankees insist on keeping the fight going we have no choice but to fight back.”
“Where is Colonel, Ford?”
“Like I said, he’s somewhere around Boca Chica. He’s had a tough summer and early fall.”
“I can believe that.”
“It’s been bad for all of us,” the captain said. “Sometimes I think you were fortunate to be shot when you were.”
“It sounds like I was,” Jack said. “Do you think the enemy will attack Brownsville a third time?”
“Maybe, but it wouldn’t be wise. You must have seen the river when you rode in?”
“Yes. It’s very high.”
“I don’t believe they will attack as long as this rain keeps up.”
“I kind of hope they do,” Jack said. “I owe someone for this bullet wound and many hours of pain and suffering.” The captain nodded and said,
“You stay here in the barracks tonight and if Rip Ford’s men come in for supplies tomorrow, you can ride out with them. Like I said the yanks are shelling us quite a bit so just be careful around the river. I’m glad you’re back with us, Corporal.”
Jack smiled curtly. “You’re good to say so, sir.”
“It was brave of you to come back. If I was in your place, I don’t believe I would have come back.”
“It is my duty, captain.” The captain smiled and nodded.
“Very well. Now go get settled and we’ll talk more tomorrow.”
Jack sat down on his bed and unpacked his haversack and took off his boots. Then he lay back on the bed and stared at the fly-specked ceiling wishing he was back in Corpus Christi holding Marie Hayes in his arms. He was tired and his shoulder hurt; not a fiery throbbing pain like before, but a deep rhythmic pulsing deep in the muscle beneath his shoulder blade.
The room was damp even with the window shuttered. Outside the sky was dark like gray slate and a long continuous line of rain clouds stretched from horizon to horizon. Jack lay on the bed and thought about Marie Hayes and the child he would never see. He didn’t want to think about them but the room was quiet and the day was wet and dreary and there was nothing to do but lie there and think about those he loved and cared about.
Chapter 22
The next morning Jack opened his eyes and saw Corporal Campbell sitting in a chair looking at him. Campbell looked like a wet dog with drops of water glistening in his dark hair. “You gonna sleep all day?” he said with a ragged smile. Jack sat up on an elbow frowning.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Well, my friendly friend, I just couldn’t stand being apart from my ole’ buddy. So I talked the doc into signing the papers, jumped on the next train and here I am.”
“Well, damn, it’s good to see you, Carl.” Jack said. “I was going stir crazy here by myself.”
“Where are the other men?”
“Off on patrol. It’s just you and me right now.”
Campbell’s facial wounds had completely healed but the scars stood out like blobs of paint on his cheeks; dark brown and wrinkled, like old leather. His speech was greatly improved, however. Jack could detect only a faint trace of a lisp when he spoke.
“Face is looking good,” Jack noted.
“It’s a lot better than it was. How’s your shoulder?”
“It’s stiff. Probably the rain.”
Campbell found a comfortable spot on his bed and asked, “Are you missing Nurse Hayes?”
“Don’t ask silly questions, Carl.”
“Come on, you can tell me.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” Jack said. “We were friendly, and now I’m here and she’s there.”
“You acted like ya’ll were married back in Corpus Christi,” Campbell said. “Must have been hard leaving her behind.”
“No it wasn’t.”
“If you say so. So, you’re feeling good huh?”
“I feel like hell.”
“Me too. Let’s get drunk and see if we can cheer each other up. Maybe take a little trip over to Lupe’s cantina?”
“I might have to deploy with Colonel’s Ford’s boys,” Jack said. “Unfortunately I can’t get drunk right now.”
“We’ll have one drink, then. We don’t have to get drunk but we can at least have one drink. Look what we went through, after all.”
Campbell went into his haversack and brought out a bottle of whiskey. “Bought this in Elisabethtown during a layover,” he said uncorking the bottle. He handed it to Jack who took a moderate sip and handed back the bottle.
“It’s pretty good whiskey for moonshine,” Campbell said. “Helps keep the chill off.”
“How are folks treating you?” asked Jack. “With the scars and all?” Campbell shrugged and took a sip of whiskey.
“The woman who sold me this whiskey looked like she was serving a ghost or something. Some people stare, some don’t. Most just give me plenty of room. Didn’t have no trouble getting a seat on the train, that’s for sure. Had the whole seat to my self.”
They drank more whiskey and Jack went over and opened the window to let in some fresh air. The rain had stopped but there was a mist clinging to the tops of the trees and the sun was barely visible in the dreary sky and steam rose off the garden walls like smoke.
“So, you’re not gonna marry that nurse?” Campbell asked.
“No.”
“I thought you loved her.”
“I did. I mean I do.”
“But, you’re not going to marry her?”
“Carl,” Jack said tersely, “please shut up about it, will you. If you want to stay on my good side, then you need to shut up about Marie.”
“I don’t want to offend you none, Jack,” Campbell said.
“Then please shut up.”
“Alright. Done.”
Jack went back to the bed and sat down. Campbell was holding the whiskey bottle and looking at the floor sulking.
“Didn’t mean to sound so cross,” Jack said. “The experience has been tough on all of us I guess.”
“Sure has,” Campbell said. “You’re not the one with scars on your face, though. And you had a fine woman there. I guess I’m a little jealous, that’s all.”
“I can appreciate that,” Jack said.
“You’re lucky to love like that. I only like two things, and both are bad for me.”
“And that would be what?” Campbell held up the whiskey bottle.
“Whiskey, and train rides.”
“Speaking of train rides. . .”
“Naw, not a single woman on the train. Besides,” he waved absently toward his face, “this mess ain’t likely to get me anywhere near a woman who’s not a whore. Even then I might have to pay through the nose.”
“You’ll get plenty of women,” Jack said.”
“Yeah, so long as my money holds up.”
“You were born with a first rate personality, my dear Corporal Campbell. There will be women lining up just to hear your philosophy on life and all matters of the heart. You’ll see.”
“And you my dear Corporal Saylor are as full of shit as a Christmas turkey. Here have another drink.”
“I don’t think my stomach can handle it.”
“Sure it can. Have you not read in the Bible where Saint Paul told Timothy to take a little wine for his stomach’s sake?”
“I hardly think that rot gut you have in that bottle is anything close to wine,” Jack said smirking.
“I believe it’s the alcohol content that’s the important point.”
“I see. I think the Bible also indicates that we’re not to be drunk with wine wherein excess. Got an excuse
for that one too?”
“No. But I am pure at heart.”
“True. And that’s exactly why you will get a nice girl someday.”
“You’re a good man, Saylor,” Campbell said. “A terrible liar, but a good man. What say we go get something to eat?”
Jack washed his face and combed his hair and the two men walked over to the mess tent to see if they were still serving breakfast. Campbell was a little drunk and still pulling on the bottle from time to time. The major in charge of the infirmary came in and nodded to them and sat at a table by himself.
“How is Nurse Mason?” Campbell asked.
“She’s fine. I see you two are mending nicely. They do good work there in Corpus Christi.”
One of the cooks announced that they had some eggs and gravy ready if anyone was interested. Everyone was and the cook ladled out portions of thick gravy and spoons full of scrambled eggs. He topped off the simple meal with a golden brown biscuit for each man. Between bites, Jack inquired about the priest.
“He’s at the infirmary,” the major said. “One of the soldiers took a bad turn last night and father Conner was asked to come pray with him.”
“How has he been?” asked Jack. The major wiped his mouth and upturned mustache carefully and said,
“He’ll be by shortly and you can ask him yourself.”
They were finishing the gravy when the priest arrived a few minutes later. He looked the same in his black cassock and small hat, but Jack thought he looked very thin and quite sad. They shook hands and the priest gently touched Jack’s shoulder. “I heard you were back,” he said. “You’re looking very good considering what happened to you.”
“Sit down,” the major said. “You’re late. They were about to close the kitchen.”
“Good morning priest,” Campbell said
“Corporal Campbell. Your wound looks. . .interesting.”
“Oh it is. The ladies love it. Been seeing any ladies lately, Padre?”
“You may have lost some teeth but not an ounce of your humor,” the priest said smiling. Campbell uncorked the whiskey bottle and poured a couple of ounces into his coffee mug.
“Have a snort, Padre?” he asked. “A little wine’s good for the stomach. That’s in the Bible you know. Saint Paul.”
“Yes I know,” said the priest politely. Campbell shook a few drops of the liquor into the priest’s cup and said,
Wasn’t it Saint Paul who said it was better to marry than to burn with passion?” The priest looked at Jack and smiled. Jack could see that the priest was more than accustomed to Campbell’s attempts to bait him. Undeterred, Campbell continued to berate the eternally patient priest.
“Ole’Saint Paul knew that a man has needs. He got around alright. And he knew some things. He wasn’t shy about telling us to take care of our flesh desires so we don’t sin.”
“He was writing to married people,” the priest said. “He in no way condoned premarital or extramarital fornication.”
The major and Jack smiled around their coffee mugs and Campbell said,
“It don’t count if you’re planning to marry the gal, right Jack?” Jack shook his head and held up a dismissive hand.
“I don’t discuss religious matters on a full stomach.”
“There he goes, siding with the priest,” Campbell said pretending to be angry.
The major leaned back in his chair and peered at Campbell through his small glasses. “You know you have a slight whistle when you speak?” he said.
“I do?”
“Yes. And a bit of a lisp as well.”
“Well sir, if you had your jaw broke and half your teeth knocked or pulled out and two holes shot through the middle of your face, you’d probably sound funny when you talk too.”
“I’m well aware of the extent of your injuries, Corporal. As a medical man, I’m merely making a medical observation.”
“If that pleases you sir, then by all means observe away,” Campbell said. Then he turned his attention back to Jack.
“Why do I have to bait this priest all alone?” he whined.
“He’s a good priest,” Jack said. “He takes his job very seriously.”
The major nodded and said, “Indeed, he is a good priest.”
Campbell was very drunk now and the alcohol was pushing him toward irrational anger. “To hell with you priest!” he blurted. His cheeks and nose were red and his hair was very damp against the white of his forehead. His eyes had no focus as he reeled in his chair glaring at the priest.
“It’s all right,” said the priest. “You’re fine Corporal Campbell. Just relax and have some coffee.”
“To hell with you,” Campbell slurred. “To hell with this whole damn war and everything associated with it.” He slumped back in his chair and dropped the whiskey bottle to the floor.
“He’s been under a lot of strain and he’s tired,” Jack said. “He just needs a good long sleep. I’ll see what I can do.”
“I don’t give a damn about no sleep,” Campbell said. “To hell with all of you. To hell with the whole damn thing!” He looked defiantly around the table, his eyes flat and challenging.
“Alright,” Jack said. “We all agree, to hell with the damn war.”
“No, no,” said Campbell. “You can’t just say it. You can’t, you’ve got to do it. You’re all empty and there’s nothing we can do but kill and die and there’s nothing else I can tell you. Not a damned thing else.”
The priest shook his head and the major looked at his hands and Jack pushed the whiskey bottle away with the toe of his boot.
“Don’t pay him any mind,” Jack said. “The wound has made him just a little crazy I think.”
“He should get a furlough,” the priest said. “Get him away from here for a while. Let him go see his family.”
Campbell looked at the priest, his dark eyes narrowing.
“You think I ought to have a furlough, huh?”
“Not if you don’t want one.”
“To hell with you,” Campbell said. “Are you trying to get rid of me? It’s this face, right? Can’t stand looking at it can you?”
No one said a word and quiet settled over the mess tent. The lamps began smoking thick black smoke as they burned down to the bottom dregs and a mess worker replaced them with a few candles. “You want to sit around here talking to the priest all day, then go ahead,” Campbell said lurching to his feet. “I’m going over to the cantina and see if I can convince one of them gals to extend me a little credit. You wouldn’t want to float a man a little loan would you priest, I already owe Jack a fiver.” The priest shook his head and studied his hands.
“Not to finance sin,” he said softly.
“Ah, to hell with you!” Campbell roared. “To hell with all of you stiffs!” He grabbed the bottle off the floor and staggered out the tent door.
“He’s tired, and drunk, and. . . wounded,” Jack said a moment later.
“Appears to me he has healed quite nicely,” the major said.
“I don’t mean his physical scars,” Jack said. “He thinks he’s ugly and no one wants him around anymore. I haven’t been able to convince him otherwise.”
The mood became as depressed as the weather and the major excused himself to go back to the infirmary and the priest said he other duties to tend to as well. He stopped briefly on his way out and laid a hand on Jack’s arm. “Take care of yourself,” he said. “And try not to let Campbell drink so much.”
“I’ll try.”
He turned to leave and Jack said, Why not stop by the barracks for a while. I feel I need to talk.”
“About spiritual things?”
“About things in general.”
Chapter 23
They went back to the barracks and Jack sat on his bed and the priest sat on Campbell’s bed and Jack asked if the priest would like some coffee and the priest said no thank you and they looked at each other waiting for the other to say something. Outside ominous clouds had retuned and it w
as dark in the room and Jack lit a candle and the priest asked him how he was really doing.
“I’m alright. Tired, but I’m alright.”
“I’m tired too, but not the same as you.”
“The war has us all down.”
“I think it will be over soon. It has been a terrible summer,” said the priest. “Ever since Gettysburg it has been a slow drain. In my view, it’s just a matter of time.”
“Will you be sad to see the Confederacy fail, Padre?”
“I will be glad to see the war come to an end. I’m a priest, Jack, I represent God. God doesn’t condone this war. The Bible says the Devil comes to steal, kill, and destroy. This war, this slaughter, is not the doing of God. Of course I will be glad to see it end. But no matter who wins, the stealing and killing and destroying will go on in one form or another for one indefensible reason or other.”
“But what will happen when we surrender?” asked Jack. “That’s what worries me the most. The not knowing what to expect when it’s over.”
“I don’t know, but I just think it can’t go on much longer.”
“So who do you think won the bulk of the fighting this summer?”
“No one.”
“From what I read, the Confederacy won most of the land engagements in the south,” Jack said.
“No one won.”
“Ah, I see. You’re speaking in spiritual terms again.”
“Of course.”
“But we have to look at the practical side of it too,” Jack said. The priest shook his head.
“If both sides would turn to God and study his word and apply it, they would no longer wish to kill each other.”
“You’re discouraging to converse with, Padre.”
“Well, I always try to come down on the side of truth. And, unfortunately, truth is often very discouraging. I can only say what I think, and what I think is tempered with truth.”
“What truth?”
“The Bible quotes Jesus as saying, ‘I am the Way, the Life, and the Truth’.
“Then you think evil such as war will go on forever if men will not see the truth?”
“Yes, so long as men refuse to yield to God.”
