Lost Cause (13 page)

“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 was 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.”

“Everybody sins, Padre.”

“True. But there are two kinds of sinners.
The first embraces his sin and refuses to repent, which simply
means you agree with God that what you are doing is wrong. The
second knows he is sinning and hates his sin but can’t stop without
the help and grace of God. All men have sinned, but the man who
repents and cries out through faith for forgiveness will receive
that forgiveness.”

“No matter what he does after that?”

“The key is, once a man has repented and
receives forgiveness, he is changed, and he will not want to sin
any longer. That is the Spirit of God working in him.”

“So, if I repented, I would never sin
again?”

“Yes, you will sin, because you still have a
flesh body. The difference would be that you would hate that sin
and ask forgiveness and God is just and faithful to forgive
you.”

“I don’t know, I always thought I was a
Christian because my family is Christian,” Jack said. “And when the
Confederacy wins a victory, it’s because we are Christians.
Right?”

“The Union people think they are Christians
too,” the priest said.

“I don’t mean run of the mill Christians. I
mean Christians like followers of Our Lord. Christians like
us.”

“Do you follow Our Lord, Jack?”

“Yes. Well, mostly.”

“Have you ever read the Sermon on the
Mount?”

“I’m sure I have.”

“Read it again sometime. And try to live out
everything Our Lord taught there.”

Jack had nothing to say for a time so the
priest said, “We are all humbled to some degree when we are beaten,
Jack. Maybe that’s what Our Lord has in mind for the
Confederacy.”