Spake As a Dragon (15 page)

“
Huntsville?” Asks Luke.
“My family lives in Albertville, just thirty miles
away.”

“
Albertville you say... I
suppose a Yankee spy would never have heard of Albertville. Have
you ever heard of Guntersville, Alabama?”

“
Of course General,
Guntersville is on the Tennessee River mid-way between Huntsville
and my hometown of Albertville.”

“
Good life-saving answer
son, if you ain’t a deserter and want to keep fightin’ the
blue-bellies I have a proposition for you – join up with us. You’ll
see all the fightin’ you want. What you say Alabama?”

“
Well, uh, well..,” Luke
could think of nothing to say. “If its all the same to you Sir, I
think I will continue on my way south.”

“
Before you give me your
final answer I must warn you of a few things. First we fight behind
enemy lines, we wear civilian clothes and our mission is to find
and destroy the Yankee’s supply lines, cut telegraph wire, wreck
trains and kill the blue-bellies in their sleep if the chance
arises. But, one thing – you cannot contact your family, in any
method. No communication what so ever. You cannot write a note or
letter to the folks back home. To them you are either dead or
missing in action. Albertville, as of this date, no longer exists
for you. We officially do not exist, neither will you, and we want
it to stay this way. Do I make myself clear?”

“
Yes Sir.”

“
If you want to kill
Yankees, and help end the War sooner, riding with me is the place
to do it. A couple of other things I need to mention, Alabama. You
can join up with me, which I suggest strongly, and secondly, I
believe you are a Reb from Alabama, as you say, but I can’t take a
chance on you getting caught and exposing the existence of our unit
to the Yankees. If you do not choose to ride with me, sorry as I
may find it, I will have you shot!”

Thinking for only a brief moment Luke
replies, “Thank you Sir, now that I have given it more thought, I
believe riding with you would be an honor.”

“
Good... good choice.” The
General reached across the table and grasped Luke’s hand. As the
two men shoot hands the General recognized the secret Masonic
handshake Luke used. “Ah,” said General Morgan, “I see you are a
traveling man?”

“
Yes General, Lodge 663,
Albertville, Alabama.”

“
Daviess Lodge 22,
Lexington, Kentucky.” He said, showing Luke his gold ring with the
compass and square insignia. The General grabbed Luke and hugged
him as a ‘brother’ in the Masonic Order.

Stepping back Luke said, “General
everything I have told you is on the square.” General Morgan knew
exactly what Luke was saying. This expression between Master Masons
was indisputable evidence of a true statement, not to be
challenged.

“
Good, good my brother I
now know who you are, most of my men are raw recruits, but you are
an experienced soldier, as of this moment I am promoting you to
Lieutenant. You will command Company ‘F,’ Captain Thornton was
killed on our last raid; I need someone experienced to take his
place.

“
Thank you General, I’m
your man.”

“
Come over to my table
Lieutenant and I will show you our next excursion into the
North.”

General Morgan has a large
topographical map on his desk. It covers the area from eastern
Tennessee all the way to Indiana and Illinois. Pointing at a
section on his map he explains, “I am hoping to divert Union troops
and resources in conjunction with the Confederate operation in
Vicksburg, I am calling this campaign “
Morgan’s Ride for
Freedom
”. I intend to cross the Ohio River, and raise havoc
across southern Indiana and Ohio.”

In late summer 1863, General Morgan’s
Ride for Freedom ends at a little place called Corydon, Indiana.
His raiders confronted the Union Home Guard in a battle that
resulted in eleven of his Confederates getting killed and five of
the Home Guard were killed or wounded.

After the battle, Morgan’s men ride
ten miles southwest and set up camp on the banks of the Ohio River.
The sun is down, darkness is upon them, and the moon is full. Luke
is out walking around the tents checking on his men. Off in the
distance he hears a softly played melody being played on what he
thinks is a harmonica. He stops and listens intently. It
is
a harmonica, but playing bugle calls. Over and over different calls
are being played,
‘Reveille’
,
‘Boots and Saddle’
,
‘Gallop’
, ‘
Charge
’ and ‘
Commence Firing’
. Luke
recognizes them all. He begins to weave through the tents looking
for the source of the soothing musical refrain. Turning the corner
of one tent, he finds a young man sitting by a campfire playing his
harmonica. Seeing Luke, the youthful boy snaps to attention. “At
ease”, says Luke, “Sit back down and tell me what you are
doing.”

The young soldier explains he is
Oliver, Private Oliver Norton, the new bugler, and needs practice,
but the bugle makes too much noise, so he is using his harmonica.
Luke asks if he knows a soft melodious bugle tune that can be
played as the troops are bedding down for the night. Something
calming that will settle them down, and put the men to rest. Oliver
explains to Luke he has a bugle call he has written himself that
should fit the requirement, but he has never played it to any of
the troops. He said he called it ‘
The Army’s Perfect
Sonata’.

“
Play it for me.” Oliver
places the harmonica to his lips, when he finishes, Luke sits
there, stunned. The tune was beautiful. Finally, Luke speaks, “That
is
the perfect tune!”

“
But one suggestion
Oliver, that name is too long. Why not just call it the first
letter of each word - T.A.P.S., and beginning tonight I want you to
quietly play TAPS each evening at exactly 9 pm, without
fail.”

Later Luke enters his tent and begins
to unbuckle his cavalry sword when he hears the quite refrain of
Oliver’s tune echoing across the stillness of the camp. Listening
to the blissful sound, he thinks of these words to accompany the
notes

Day is done, gone the
sun,


From the hills, from the
lake,


From the sky.


All is well, safely
rest,


God is nigh.

He checks his pocket watch – 9 p.m.,
right on the dot.

Chapter
Twenty

POINT LOOKOUT

“
All right you Johnny
Rebs, get outta them wagons you’s home,” the Yankee guard said
pounding on the side of the wagon with the butt of his rifle. The
harrowing ride from Washington to Point Lookout is finally
over.

Robert and Ben jump from the bed of
the wagon to the ground. What they see amazes them. They scan over
the entire expanse of the Point Lookout prisoner of war
camp.

The place is located on the extreme
tip of St. Mary’s county, Maryland, on a spit of land where
Chesapeake Bay converges with the Potomac River. It is a sandy
piece of ground with plenty of marshy land. Due to its very
location, the Point is sweltering in the summer months, and a brisk
wind from the Atlantic causes freezing cold in the
winter.

Point Lookout proper covers a little
over 600 acres; however, the Confederate prison itself encompasses
only a forty-acre lot. It is enclosed by a high board-fence. All
around the top of the fence is a walkway, which the armed sentinels
constantly patrol. From the top of the fence, the guards can see
what is going on, both inside and out. The waters of the Chesapeake
Bay, to which the prisoners have free access, bound the back of the
prison compound on the north. In this water, they can bathe, fish
and wash their clothes. The inmates referred to Point Lookout as
the ‘pen’.

Robert and Ben are shoved through the
gate into a small building just within the prison entrance. A hand
painted sign over the door reads, ‘Incoming.’ The standard
operational practice once they get inside is to have all incoming
prisoners searched, and all valuables or money confiscated.
Valuables are, supposedly, stored for safekeeping and money if they
have any is credited to their account in the form of an entry in a
passbook that the prisoner gets to keep. These credits can be
exchanged at the Sutler’s store to purchase a short list of
available items. The draw back to the former practice: most if not
all captured Rebels do not have money. In the vast majority of
cases, the Confederates have not been paid since joining the
Confederate States of America’s army. Once searched and accounted
for the prisoners are released to fend for themselves within the
walls of this hellhole called Lookout Point prison.

The search completed, Robert and Ben,
walk outside the Incoming Office and find themselves standing on
the debris-strewn main road within the prison. This thoroughfare is
named Pennsylvania Avenue, also known as ‘Robbers Row.’ Walking
down the filth-littered road, they notice a small wooden shack,
obviously made from the discarded wooden cases used to ship the
life-sustaining crackers, also known to the soldiers as hard tack.
Over the door is a hand-painted sign proclaiming, ‘
Chains,
rings, made here at shortest notice’
. Inside are two Rebel men
making watch fobs and other small items of intrinsic value, using
horsehair. Finger rings are made from buttons. The workmen are as
skilled as any Yankee journeymen in the North, in spite of the
primitive nature of the tools they use to accomplish their
tasks.

The prison area is a confused mass of
tents and houses. Men, the majority of who are emaciated, limp and
struggle to and fro the best they can. Some are getting around on
makeshift crutches, others are being helped along with the aid of a
buddy. The sounds they hear are a medley of noise, not unlike
sounds heard on a busy city street; however, they have never
witnessed a street with the sides littered with the skinny,
skeleton-like, anorexic rabble of ragged men, most simply lying
where they have fallen.

Up and down Pennsylvania Avenue they
see a couple of frame building, the Sutler’s Store and a post
office. Side streets empty into this main street. These side
streets are lined on both sides with the dwellings of the
prisoners. Most are tents some are cracker box houses.

As Robert and Ben progress through the
streets they are amused at some of the names above the prisoner’s
quarters,
“Virginia Hall”, “Louisiana Country”, “The Rebel
Retreat”
or
“Rebel Den”.
They discover there are
actually three Rebel Camps in the Point Lookout location. The one
they are presently in, the one next-door is the Rebel officer’s
quarters, the third is north of the prison compound; this facility
houses the “galvanized” Rebels. Galvanized Rebels is the name other
prisoners call Rebels who have switched sides and taken the ‘Oath
of Allegiance’ to the United States.

Also up and down the main street of
Pennsylvania Avenue they find homemade booths of every description.
Some selling tobacco, others peddle fruit; still others are plying
a variety of vegetables. All available for a price Robert and Ben
find out. “Real” money cannot be used to purchase anything – the
prison has its own currency. One Confederate dollar is worth one
piece of hardtack and one plug of tobacco. All money transactions
must go through the Commissary Officer, who makes the appropriate
entries in the prisoner’s passbook. The booths, or their
merchandise is of little concern to Robert and Ben; between the two
of them they do not have two half-dimes to rub together.

Quarters, quarters! They must find
somewhere to live.

White Army tents used by the other
prisoner’s quarters are lined up and down the side streets;
however, the camp was designed to hold approximately 10,000
prisoners, right now it is crammed to over-flowing with over
15,500. Every tent is occupied with its allotment of twelve
persons, plus some extra bodies crowded into most, if not all of
them.

As night descends, the darkness finds
Robert and Ben huddled up in an empty spot next to one of the
Sutler tents. The ground is hard and still damp from the recent
rains. Maybe tomorrow they might find out the lay of the land –
right now they are ‘newbies’, they need someone to show them the
ropes. Upon arriving at Point Lookout, no one tells them anything –
after being searched they are merely thrown into a mass of humanity
within the prison walls without instructions of any
kind.

Finally, morning arrives. Robert and
Ben think the previous night ranks among the worst they have ever
endured during the war. They both are weak from lack of food and
water. Their joints and muscles are stiff, but they both are still
alive. It is morning, but no one has explained anything about the
camp. What are they to do?

Robert notices a large number of
soldiers hurrying toward one of the wooden buildings. Robert and
Ben join the crowd and follow along.

The men, accompanied by Robert and
Ben, enter a plain, board building. Robert can see it is a large
eating room. There are five long tables down the center. He guesses
the dining hall can feed around five hundred at a time. The table
furniture is extremely primitive, topped with tin cups and tin
plates. These eating utensils look as if they have been through a
war – and lost. Breakfast is about as bad – a cup of very weak
coffee, with the addition of one spoonful of molasses stirred in.
Squeezing onto a bench at one of the tables they sit sipping their
coffee. After the second taste Robert isn’t even sure it
is
coffee. A bowl, of what appears to be mush, sits on the table. They
have no forks or spoons with which to eat. Robert and Ben dip out
whatever it is in the bowl and place it on their plate and try, as
best they can, to eat it with their dirty hands. A prisoner next to
Robert informs them if they have a need, and they do, of a spoon
they must fashion one themselves using a piece of wood. It must be
kept with them at all times or other inmates will steal
it.