This manuscript may not be reproduced in any form. This manuscript is in draft form and not intended for reproduction. All rights belong to the author. All characters are from the imagination of the author and do not represent any persons living or dead. Any similarities between real persons and the characters in this manuscript are a coincidence.
SILENTLY BEATS THE DRUM
© Copyright 2004 Gary L. Benton
Chapter 1
Jeb Patton looked around the campsite and felt great sadness as he recognized the shapes of his friends, Johnny, William, Clyde , Jimmy, little Davie , and the others. Who would be left alive when this war ended? Jeb noticed ice was forming on the wool blankets covering the men. The temperature had dropped and the falling rain was turning into ice. The false dawn was breaking, but the morning sun was not about to peek over the trees anytime soon. It would be another cold day and the rain showed no indication of stopping. As Jeb reached over and stoked the fire, he thought he heard gunfire. Then once more he thought he heard the noise. He wondered if it could just be thunder. No, there it was again. He noticed the Sergeant running quickly down the line yelling, as he stood he could not make out what was being said.
He noticed a group of riders coming in hard toward the bivouac. It was then that Jeb recognized the blue uniforms, which made the riders Yankees. Yankees bent on killing him and his friends.
"Ya all get yer hind-ends up” We are about to have a passel full of Yankee visitors here in about thirty seconds!" yelled Jeb as loud as he could as he moved behind a large log. The men reached for weapons, threw the blankets off, and stood. William was the last to stand and he suddenly screamed, grabbed at his chest, and fell. Jeb noticed bright red blood running down to the man's belt. He noticed a perfect circle in William's chest.
Davie screamed a rebel yell and fired his rifle. Jeb watched the Yankee Captain's arms fly up to his head, grasping it. He watched as the Captain fell from his horse and slid on the ice-covered grass. The Captain's horse continued his run until a rifle ball struck the middle of its chest. The horse screamed a terrible sound of deep pain, collapsed, started rolling. With the sudden death of their Captain, the other riders veered off away from the main camp and quickly disappeared into the woods.
"Cease Fire! Cease fire, you idiots. Cain't ya see they are gone." Yelled the Colonel as he rode up and down the line of men.
Jeb looked around the campsite and noticed five forms still in their bed rolls. Blood, a bright red, was leaking from three of them. “Five more we cannot afford to lose,” he thought, “when will this madness stop? But, I'll be damned if I will let the Yankees run all over me and my state.” Jeb realized at that moment that he was very tired of the war. The glory and honor he had heard so much about had not come. All he had seen was death and a terrible constant hunger. He wished he were still at home.
"All right, y'all listen up." yelled the Sergeant as he took a fresh wad of chewing tobacco, placed it in his mouth and waited a few moments before he spoke again, "I want every last one of ya all up and ready to move in 'bout five minutes. If'n ya eat, you eat on foot, as we walk. Now, get yer butts to movin'."
"Sergeant!" yelled the colonel. "Get a couple of men to bury these dead men, and take the injured to the horse doctor."
"Yes suh!" came the sergeant's immediate reply! “Johnson, Patton, Moreland, and Wilkes, get the shovels and bury them thar poor souls. Y'all can catch up with us oncet you get the chore done. And, do the job right! Bartley, Smith, Freeman, and Jones, get the injured to the side of the road, so the doc can pick em up when his wagon rolls by. Come on, we ain't got all dang day, we got us some Yanks to kill."
Jeb and the rest of the men slowly moved to sides of the recently killed men. All were filled with dread There were three of dead men in a small group and Jeb hated this part of being a soldier. Nonetheless, he knew it had to be done.
"Damn, this 'en here is head shot." Came a comment from Moreland as he approached the first body. "They is always a mess to bury."
"Just wrap 'em up in his blanket and let's get this chore done with." said Wilkes as he move over about ten feet and started to dig into the mud. Jeb noticed how the mud stuck to the man's shovel and had to be removed by his foot. As quickly as the small hole formed it instantly filled with water. After about fifteen minutes the hole had grown in size.
"I hate this!" yelled Johnson as he threw his shovel down in the mud, leaned over and starting puking.
"Pick the damn shovel up Johnson and dig boy!" came the yell from the sergeant "Or, I will come over thar and whop ya a new one. You ain't been nothin' but trouble since yer rich old man let you join this here outfit. I am tired of yer trash."
Jeb watched Johnson give the sergeant a mean look as he bend over to pick up his shovel. Before Jeb realized it, the sergeant had kicked Johnson in the rear and with a loud splash, the man hit the water filled grave.
"Johnson, Git outta that water and finish this detail! The rest of you men, continue with the grave detail and hurry it up. Remember, these are your friends yer a-burin'." said the sergeant as he shook his head and walked off.
It took the better part of another 30 minutes to dig the common grave, pull the three bodies to the hole and then push them in. “Sorry place to die and a sorrier way to be buried.” thought Jeb as he began shoveling mud on the dead men.
As soon as the grave was filled in, Jeb returned for his gear. He rolled up his wet and cold blanket, put his tin cup inside his knapsack, and rearranged his knife and canteen on his belt. He felt like he had never had a night of uninterrupted sleep in his life. Him and little Frank went over to put the fire out. The raising steam from the water striking the fire reminded Jeb of the Yankee warehouse he had seen burning just two days past. The smoke and fire had been a real site to see. Not only that, but the burning building had provided the southerners their first real warmth in weeks.
"Jeb! Frank! You two get a-movin'" came the cry from Corporal Applegate.
"Sho nuf masser Applegate, suh!" came Frank's reply, followed by a loud horse like laugh.
Frank was a tall and lanky red headed boy from Alabama . Wardlaw was his last name, and he was the newest addition to the unit. Joined them as a straggler one day the week before. Try as he might, Wardlaw had not been accepted by the unit yet. His status as a straggler had been questioned by some and his being from Alabama by others.
Wardlaw also had the natural ability to appear absolutely filthy no matter how clean he tried to be. His hair was always coated with dirt and grease, because the man never washing it and his clothes were a mixture of confederate gray and Yankee blue. His teeth were a dark brown from the chewing tobacco he always had in his left cheek. Jeb decided he did not like Wardlaw at all. Jeb's daddy had always told him that white trash was always white trash. Well, Wardlaw was white trash in Jeb's book.
Quicker than a rifle ball, Corporal Applegate was standing in front of Frank and before a word could be said he struck the man in the mouth with the butt of his horse pistol. The young screaming man fell to the ground, clawing in the mud.
Then, in an almost a whisper, Applegate looked down at Frank and said, "Ya open yer big mouth like that to me again, Wardlaw, and I'll whop ya all over this state. I don't take no mouth from a hind teat-sucking whelp of a man. Do you understand me, boy?"
Billy looked up at the corporal and then lowered his head. Blood ran down his split lips onto his Yankee blue uniform shirt. Pieces of his three front teeth were stuck to the front of the shirt along with a lot of wet red blood. "Corporal, y'all didn't have to hit me so hard. Ya busted my teeth some. I was just a funnin' ya."
"Ya all heard the Sergeant! Get yer butts to moving 'cause yer time is up. NOW!!" was the only response from Corporal Applegate as he stood with his hands on his hips and looked around at the small group of standing men.
Jeb slung his rifle over his left shoulder, adjusted his belt a bit, and started a slow walk down the puddle filled and wagon wheel rutted road. Taking a cold piece of cornbread in his right hand he started to nibble on it. To his left Frank walked as he held his shirttail held against his bleeding mouth. Wilkes was behind Jeb and was snickering at the corporal's comments.
As he glanced around, Jeb noticed Johnson shivering from being pushed into the water filled grave by the Sergeant. “Dang fine unit I am stuck with.” he thought as one foot moved in front of the other in a mechanical fashion.
Throughout the day the unit walked in the mud and the cold falling rain. "We must be strung out fer miles un-end." said Johnson as he continued to shiver. He talked as they walked, as if the effort alone would warmed him up. "What I wouldn't give fer a nice warm room, belly full of beans, and a real honest to God bed to sleep in."
"What I want is a woman. A nice pretty red headed one." commented Wilkes as they continued the on the never ending walk. "One who would really love me."
What yer most likely to git is a Yankee bullet in yer hide Wilkes." Said corporal Applegate as he slowly shook his head, "Or a long piece of Yankee bayonet in yer gut. God punishes people who thinks like you do 'bout women. It ain't right. Keep away from me in the commin' battle, I might get kilt by accident, when they want you."
Jeb continued to eat the cold and moldy cornbread as he walked. He felt guilty, because he had been thinking about Nancy when Wilkes started this conversation. If God punished men for talking or thinkin' about love, he would really be upset with Jeb. But, Jeb could not believe God would punish him for thinking about the woman he loved. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever experienced and he thought of it often. War may be horrible, but love between a man and a woman was joy on earth.
"Ya all stop and take a break, fer 'bout 10 minutes!" yelled the Sergeant as he turned and faced the marching men. "But, no fires, the Yanks is too close and they will either see or smell the smoke."
"'Bout time. My feet are killin' me. " complained Old Man Fantroy as he plopped down on the grass beside the muddy road. At fifty-five years old he was the oldest man in the company.
"Fantroy, you should be in the quartermaster, or some soft job for old people, not in the infantry." Said Wilkes as he lighted his pipe. "You can bet yer bottom dollar, ifn I was yer age, I would not be walking up this mud hole of a road just to get kilt at the end of it."
"Wilkes, I am here ‘cause I want to be. The Yanks kilt my boy at Shiloh , and they will pay fer what pain and suffering they caused me and mine."
"Well, there is a heap of Yanks out there, old man, so just go kill ‘em all Fantroy. When yer done I can go back home to my farm."
"Wilkes, ya jess don't unnerstand. I can kill all of the Yanks here abouts and the pain will never go away. " Fantroy said as he removed his watch from his breast pocket and checked the time. Jeb noticed the old man's hands were shaking and his eyes had misted up. "Only one fifteen . Feels much later boys."
"You in a hurry to get to hell Fantroy?" Jones asked with a loud laugh as he slapped his right knee with his hand.
"We gonna have to hurry, if we want to fight them Yanks while it's still daylight is all. 'Sides, I'm getting' hungry too." Ignoring Jones's question, Fantroy replaced his watch, looked up at the sun and then lowered his head slowly until he was looking in the mud at his feet.
"Alright people, y'all get up and lets get moving. We have an appointment the Devil and he is wearing Yankee blue." The Sergeant said as he moved up and down the line of tired and dirty men. Jeb watched the sergeant spit a stream of brown tobacco juice on the roadway, hitting a mud puddle square in the center.
With groans and curses the men stood and then slowly began to move. At a snail's pace the line started to meander down the mud and water filled roadway. Jeb could now see his breath in the cool morning air, but he knew it would soon become hot. Not from the rising sun, but just as soon as the Yankees were found. He knew he could die in the coming battle, but he no longer cared. To die was to escape and to escape was to be free. What he feared the most about a battle was to be maimed.
He could not return home with an arm or leg missing. What would Nancy think if he returned crippled? He would be a man without the ability to make a living, or to even take care of her. He knew she would love him regardless of his disability, but his pride said he would die before he returned home half a man. Hell fire, he knew he couldn't live with himself if he was crippled.
Little by little the afternoon dragged on. For miles the men walked in the cold falling rain. Most of the older and a few of the younger men dropped out, totally exhausted. The ankle deep mud made walking very difficult and the rain sapped the strength from all but the strongest of them. Jeb, near dropping out a number of times, was just barely able to keep up. But, he was no longer walking in control of his body, he was just moving with the line. He fell asleep once and woke up when he walked into the back of the man in front of him when the line stopped. His hunger had been replaced with fatigue. He was near his limit when the colonel called an end for the day.
"Margo, call the dogs…I am tired to the bone." said Moreland as he collapsed on the muddy roadway, not bothering to avoid a large mud hole. "I am at my end."
"Well, I have decided to join the horse soldiers just as soon as I can steal a horse." Jeb said as he moved to the side of the road to sit on the grass.
No one was listening as Jeb leaned back on his pack, rattling on and on more or less to himself, "I have had enough. I mean, we ain't gettin' no food, no clothes, and this weather is a-killin' us. Half of us ain't even got no shoes! I hain't no coward, ya all know that, but I need a few thangs to fight with. When is the colonel gonna see we ain't fit to fight no Yankees?"
Finally, after a few more minutes, Jeb quit talking and looked around. He noticed they had stopped by a small clearing surrounded by trees. The wind was light, but the drizzling rain continued. The sky was still overcast with low light gray clouds. The temperature must have warmed up a little because the ice he had noticed earlier in the day was gone. Mud and water was everywhere and Jeb knew it would be another miserable night for him and the boys. His hunger suddenly became alive as he heard his stomach growl.
Jeb was used to hunger. Growing up, his father and mother had worked their old Missouri dirt farm hard, but it never produced enough. As a result, he had eaten his share of fatback and greens, or beans, and corn bread. He knew he was lucky, some folks never had enough of anything to eat, but he had had something most of the time. He felt an itch on his left leg near his groin. Dropping his pants he looked down.
The tick was large, about the size of the tip of his little finger, and was on his left leg, near his crotch. It was full of his blood and had a dark purple body. As he looked himself over he noticed many others on his legs and lower stomach. He quickly started pulling them off, and the first to go was the blood filled one on his leg. After he removed them, he could still feel an itch. He had known men to die from ticks. His best friend in school had pulled a tick off his right underarm and was dead of a fever within a week. As he pulled the ticks off, he noticed other men checking themselves as well. “We must have passed through a mess of 'em ‘cause ticks are on everyone.” He said to Wardlaw who was standing nearby.
Suddenly shot filled the air and he noticed a man near him scream, fall to the ground, and begin to thrash violently. The right side of the man's head was missing and he was kicking and thrashing around in a horrible manner. He screamed continued to scream as blood shot out about a foot from his injury. Jeb ran to the man's side and when he checked the injury, he could see the pulsing brain inside of the shattered head. The man was dieing, that was for sure, but his kicking and screaming was driving everyone insane. After a few years of war, they had all seen enough death and pain from the war. They preferred people to die quietly and without much blood.
"Sharpshooter!" someone yelled. Jeb ducked behind a nearby boulder.
The sergeant ran up, upholstered his pistol, and calmly shot the injured man between the eyes. "Damn them." he said as he placed his pistol back in his hostler. "They never fight like a man should." The sergeant slowly turned in a complete circle as he looked around for the sharpshooter. After a few minutes the top sergeant knew the shooter was long gone, so he walked over to the colonel and his aids.
"He didn't have to kill 'em." Complained Wilkes in weak and trembling voice. "He might have lived."
"Sure, as a vegetable." said Jones, "Who the wants to live like that? Who wants to spend the rest of their live drooling and slobbering down the front of their shirts?"
"Wilkes, you are an Idjet! I should whop you!" Yelled Jones as he stood and took assumed an angry stance.
"Listen Wilkes,” Applegate said in an attempt to defuse the situation, “you are a complete dummy. The sarge did the guy a favor. I hope to hell one of you would do the same fer me. Just forget it, he would have died anyway, the sarge merely stopped the pain."
"Well, I guess so, corporal, but I didn't like him shooting him like that. He deserved a better way to go than a bullet between the eyes. That's the way ya kill a horse. It just don't seem right is all"
"For God sakes man, half his head was missing! Let it go Wilkes! The guy was dead already and he just didn't know it yet." Jones said, as he turned and started to fix a meal of parched corn and salt pork.
Jeb should have been shocked at what he had seen, but he really wasn't. Many times during the war he had seen mercy killings. Not that he liked them, he didn't, but it was better to die quickly than to suffer for hours or days. He only hoped and prayed that some one would do that for him if he were hurt with no chance of recovery. The war had made him face many things he did not want to face. Taking his gray, soiled and damp blanket, Jeb rolled up in it and leaned back against the boulder. Soon, he was thinking of his family and how much he loved them. He also wondered what Nancy was doing right now
