Spake As a Dragon (10 page)

Slapping the leather reins against the
mule’s flanks Nate pulled the wagon out of the long line of Union
supply wagons and began moving in a direction opposite to General
Meade’s wagon train of supplies.

Nate had a plan. Thousands of dead lay
on the field, burying them was going to be a tremendous task, the
Army would be moving out shortly so most if not all the dead would
lie where they died.

Moving among the dead and wounded Luke
asks, “Nate have you seen anything of Father or Matthew? I know
they both were wounded, but I’ve heard nothing of them.” Without
looking at Luke Nate shook his head, he realized the odds of
wounded men surviving musket bullets or cannonball shrapnel were
slim. Even if they didn’t die immediately, without immediate
first-aid the chance of survival was small.

As the wagon continues to move slowly
among the mangled remains of man’s savagery, he notices a large
group of dead Rebel soldiers. Nate has an idea. “Luke you git out
there ands you lie close to ones of thems ‘somebody’s darlin’s’ and
you pretend to be dead too.” Nate explains as General Meade’s
Federal troops withdraw from the field of battle, Nate will stop by
the pile of dead men, Luke can then jump into the back of his
wagon. Nate will get a Yankee blue jacket to match Luke’s blue
breeches he is already wearing. Then they can both ride up front on
the wagon seat. Allowing Luke to blend in with the rest of the
blue-bellied Yanks.

Later, as Nate expects, the order is
given for the Army of the Potomac to withdraw. The supply train is
ordered to load as many wounded men as they can hold and follow the
thousands of Yankee soldiers as the Army pursues General Lee and
his Confederates. Nate stops his wagon next to a group of dead
Confederates and wounded Federals. He hoisted a couple of the
severely wounded Yanks into his wagon. At the same time, Luke,
wearing a blue Yankee jacket, a pair of white suspenders and a
yellow bandana tied around his neck, slips into the wagon
also.

Luke, now appearing to be a common
Federal calvary soldier, continues helping Nate load wounded men
into the rear of their wagon. Once loaded they line up in the wagon
train with hundreds of other identical looking white canvas covered
Conestoga-style wagons. This line of wagons extends 10–15 miles
along the winding, dirt roads that lead away from Gettysburg. It
takes most of the day getting the escorts ready, packing the
supplies, loading and trying to identify the wounded. The trip
causes extreme hardship to the critically injured men lying on the
hard wagon beds. The roads are rough and slick with mud from the
torrential rains that began after the long three days of
fighting.

Scientists say the nitrates and sulfur
from the tremendous amount of smoke generated by the cannons and
muskets, rise into the air, condenses on the minute particle of
moisture causing the torrential rains. This rain phenomenon occurs
at practically all-major battles of the Civil War – Gettysburg is
no exception.

Adding to the wounded’s misery is the
absence of any type of suspension on the ambulance wagons. Each mud
hole brings excruciating pain and additional suffering to the
wounded. General Meade’s headquarters has ordered the wagon train
to get to Frederick, Maryland as soon as possible – they have
orders not to stop. This terrible pace insures the war-weary wagons
are apt to break down – those that did become disabled are left
beside the road, as are some of the critically injured. The Army of
the Potomac does not have enough surgeons to help all the injured;
therefore, the thought is local citizens might offer the wounded
more help than the Army can provide.

A condition that persisted during the
war, the departure of men and regiments whose enlistments have
expired, plague Meade’s army. The termination of enlistments takes
effect even in the midst of an active campaign. The departure of
the Army from Gettysburg is no different. Approximately 6,000 men
of the Union’s enlistments have run out and once they reached
Frederick they are entitled to be discharged and go home, and they
intend to, home is safety, the battlefield is death.

While loading the wounded into their
wagon, one critically injured Yankee, not realizing Luke is a
Confederate, whispers to Luke about his discharge paper. He tells
Luke his release document is inside his breast pocket. Use it he
says to Luke. He knew his injury was fatal, and tells Luke he saw
his beautiful wife and children for the last time. Luke feels sorry
for the dying man, but crams the blood soaked paper into his own
pocket without looking at the soldier’s name or unit.

The Yankee wagon train reaches
Frederick, Maryland without incident. The wagons are positioned,
the injured and dead soldiers are unloaded, and as the mules are
un-hitched Nate pulls Luke aside.

“
Mister
Luke...”

“
Please, Nate, just Luke,
you are a free man.”

“
Yes Mister Luke, I means
Luke...take that paper you gets from that there dead man down
yonder to that musterin’ out officer and git yerself outta here and
go home to ‘Bamma. Say howdy to my Pa, Ma and brother. Tells’em I’m
fine, I jest don’t like workin’ for the blue-bellies, but I ain’t
got no choice.”

Standing in a long line outside the
Federal Discharge Officer’s tent Luke tries to appear
inconspicuous. His clothes are Yankee blue, but his heart is Rebel
grey. He tries not to talk with any of the other soldiers standing
in line awaiting their discharge, but that isn’t too hard they are
not interested in talking, they, like Luke, are only interested in
getting out of the Army and returning to their families.

“
Next!” Announced Captain
Armstrong sitting at a table in the middle of the tent without
looking up.

Stepping to the camp table Luke hands
the Yankee Captain the dead man’s discharge certificate. Captain
Armstrong takes the paper from Luke using his thumb and index
finger only, “Did you have to bleed all over it?”

“
Sorry,” Luke answers,
trying hard to mask his Southern accent, “but it’s not my blood,
one of those grey-backs didn’t die quick enough.”

“
Says here you’re in the
Iron Brigade, what unit?”

This catches Luke by surprise. He has
no idea what unit is written on the piece of paper, and for sure he
has never heard of the Iron Brigade.

The Iron Brigade received its name
during the Battle of Turner’s Gap. Major General McClellan asked,
“What troops are those beating back the Rebs?” The answer, “General
Gibbon’s Brigade of Western men.” McClellan stated, “They must be
made of iron!” Other stories tell of it origin, but the men
immediately adopted the name – the Iron Brigade.

“
Been in a couple of hard
battles since signing up, couple of fights our units got cut up
pretty bad and I’ve been switched from unit to unit a lot. It’s
been a while since I signed that scrap of paper.”

Captain Armstrong looked at the paper
closer. “Also says here you enlisted in the Company ‘C,’ 3rd
Illinois, that about right?”

Sounds pretty good to Luke, so he nods
his head, “Yeah that’s right.”

“
Your name is Private
Judson H. Bouchard? Well, Private Bouchard,” thrusting a sign-out
sheet toward Luke, “Sign right here, and you will not be in the
Federal Army any longer.”

Taking pen in hand Luke dips the tip
into the ink well and signs, ‘
Private Judson H.
Boochard
.’

Turning to the Corporal standing guard
at the tent’s entrance the Captain orders, “Arrest this man
Corporal he’s a spy!”

“
No! No your wrong!” Luke
protested.

“
You made a couple of
mistakes Reb, only the 2
^nd
, 6
^th
and 7th
Wisconsin, the 19
^th
Indiana and the 4
^th
Michigan makeup the Iron Brigade, the 3
^rd
Illinois isn’t
one of them and you ignorant grey-back, ‘Bouchard’ is not spelled
‘Boochard’.”

“
Pardon me Captain, I may
not know how to spell the name Bouchard, but I assure you I am far
from ignorant – I was a member of Kappa from the College of William
and Mary class of 1854.”

“
I see,” said the Captain
taking out his gold pocket watch as if to check the time. Luke
couldn’t help but notice his watch fob - a golden key engraved with
the image of a pointing finger, three stars, and the Greek letters
from which the society takes its name – Phi Beta Kappa. He could
read
‘Harvard-1856’
engraved on the bottom edge.

Reaching across the table, Captain
Armstrong extends his right hand Luke does likewise. Each shake the
other’s hand with the thumbs extended skyward – the secret
handshake of the Phi Beta Kappa society. “Reb, I should take you
out to the nearest tree and string you up, but I’m sure you are
only wearing our blue uniform because your Army doesn’t have
sufficient clothing to keep every Confederate equipped. Corporal,
take him to the prisoner’s yard, remove our uniform, supply him
with some clothes and confine him. Get a doctor to check out those
cuts on his face too, we’ve got an ambulance train of wagons going
south pretty soon, make sure my Secesh friend here is on
it!”

Luke’s arm is grabbed by the Yankee
corporal, but before he can leave the tent, Captain Armstrong said,
“I didn’t lie; you are no longer
in
the Federal Army! You’re
now going to be a prisoner
of
the Federal Army!” Standing
and walking close he whispers into Luke’s ear, “But my Brother Reb,
you are still alive!”

Chapter
Fourteen

MOVING SOUTH

A Yankee soldier walks up and down the
rows of hospital bunks jabbing the Confederates lying on the beds
with the end of his musket. “Git outta them sacks, you Rebs are
gittin’ moved!”

Sergeant Scarburg and Private Dunway
need further encouragement they are still lying on their bunks.
They have been in the Army long enough to know the old soldier’s
refrain, ‘always wait until the last minute before doing anything.’
The daily routine with the army was a constant hurry up and wait
endeavor. They do not think this move order will be any different.
Robert’s stab wound is healing nicely, but any quick exertion
causes him excruciating pain, so he has to move slowly. His memory
has not returned completely, but he can remember most
facts.

“
Robert, whar do you thank
they is gonna send us?”

“
I don’t know Ben, but
ever since we arrived I’ve been givin’ it some thought, and I
remembered a few things. I reckon we will go to Elmira, New York or
maybe to the Old Capitol Prison in Washington. Both of them are
pretty close.”

Ben starts to reply, but soldiers
begin pushing the rebel prisoners out of their tent into dozens and
dozens of Union wagons. Each wagon is covered with a white canvas
with the letters U.S painted on the side.

Ben stayed close behind Robert as they
crawl into the wagon. They sat on the floor; no sideboard seats are
in these transports. The roads they travel have not improved since
Robert last rode in one on his way to the hospital; in fact, he
believes they have gotten worse. The men in the wagons are bounced
from side to side. Those with partially healed wounds begin to ooze
blood and it begins trickling out of their bandages collecting on
the floor. Cries of pain and anguish go unanswered. The drivers
will not acknowledge their passengers.

All day they travel toward an unknown
destination. At one point, Sergeant Scarburg looks out the rear of
the wagon they are traveling south.

“
Ben we are going south,
we must be bound for Old Capitol Prison. If we don’t get there
soon, I believe I am going to bleed to death.”

Over the loud sound of the wagon
wheels and the shouts of the drivers barking orders to the mules,
Robert and Ben talk about the prison to which they think they are
headed. Robert explains the prison near Washington isn’t going to
be too bad. He has heard all the prisoners are housed inside a
building, the food is adequate, the inmates are supplied with
decent clothing, and they are allowed to send and receive mail
regularly. All in all, Sergeant Scarburg thinks Ben and he at last
are about to receive a little bit of good luck. He tells Ben they
can sit the War out there in relative comfort. If luck smiles on
them, it is possible they could be exchanged for Yankee prisoners.
He explains one rebel private is usually exchanged for one Yankee,
and a rebel sergeant is worth two Yankee prisoners, so both of them
are worth three Yankee prisoners. Robert thinks their odds are good
to be exchanged. Not much, during the past few weeks, has offered
them much hope, but now their spirits are being raised, if only he
could remember his family.

Robert estimates it is about a
three-day trip to the nearest town, Frederick, Maryland, he is
right. Around midnight of day three, they roll into the outskirts
of this small Maryland burg. The prisoners are allowed to get out
of the wagons and get a bowl of hot potato skin soup from a Union
mess tent. In the meantime, the drivers replace the mules with a
fresh team.

Once the new teams of mules have been
hitched, the driver yells, “Load up!” and the men swallow their
soup and scamper to get back into the wagons. Those that are slow
receive the business end the bullwhip used on the mule teams. These
slow movers quickly decide to speed up their movement. Robert has
hoped their stop in Frederick would allow him to see a doctor and
get his wounds dressed. Not only did he not receive any attention
to his chest wound now he has a couple of bleeding stripes across
his shoulders from the Yankee bullwhip in addition to the bullet
wound on his head.