Which Way Freedom (14 page)

“No,” Obi said, avoiding Thomas's eyes and handing him the ball of paper. “What it say?”

Thomas smoothed the paper in his lap and read: “Private Obidiah Jennings. United States Army. Regiment: First South Carolina Volunteers; Company B. January 15, 1863.” He handed Obi the paper. “This is for identification.”

“How you learn to read?”

“In the colored orphanage where my mother worked. I went to school with the orphans.”

Obi looked puzzled again. Thomas explained what an orphan was.

“That's what I be,” Obi said. “No ma, no pa. You know your mother an' father?”

Thomas nodded his large head. “My daddy is dead now. He was a slave, but he ran away to the North when he was a boy.”

“Why you join the army? You already free,” Obi said.

“Not so free. We don't have masters but don't have any rights either.” Thomas nervously swung one crossed leg back and forth. “We figure if slavery is ended, then all of us blacks will be free.” He smiled. “Anyway, thirteen dollars a month is more than I get working in the stables or on the docks, when I can find work there.”

Obi listened for a moment to the voices of Joseph, John, and the others who'd been on the ferry. Obi liked this man from the North. He reminded him of Buka. Like the old African, Thomas could tell Obi about places and things he knew nothing about.

“Could you learn me to read?” he asked shyly.

Thomas smiled. “Sure. Be glad to, Obi.”

“Everybody stand and form a single line,” the soldier behind the desk ordered. Feeling calmer now, Obi was sorry that his talk with Thomas had to end.

They slowly formed a line. Obi and Thomas stood behind Joseph and John.

The sergeant, short and straight as a board, stepped from behind his desk. “The first thing you've got to learn is how to follow orders quickly.” He tapped his index finger on his forehead. “Soldiers have to react fast. I'm Sergeant Michaels. Your commanding officer, Colonel Higginson, will speak to you later. Now follow me”

Michaels walked them out of the log house and toward one of the frame buildings.

Joseph imitated his short steps. “He strut like a little bantam rooster,” he snickered.

The sergeant stopped in front of the building and faced the men. “We're going to try and make you
look
like soldiers,” he announced before leading them inside the building.

Inside, Obi noticed little other than the neatly placed pairs of boots in one section.

Thomas looked down at his own scruffy boots. “Good boots. One reason for joining the army, Obi,” he joked.

Obi grimaced at the thought of wearing them. The men started talking at once. “After you pick your boots, go over there and get your uniforms.” Michaels pointed to the other side of the room where a black man was measuring a few soldiers.

Obi picked up the largest pair of boots he could find. “It's not good to wear shoes that are too big,” Thomas advised loudly.

Joseph, John, and the others stopped talking. They stared at Thomas. “Well, I'll be,” John exclaimed.

Joseph grinned. “Where you learn to talk like that?” he asked, and the other men laughed.

“He must've been 'round them Yankee a long time,” another said.

“Y'all leave he alone,” Obi ordered.

John turned to him. “You sure enough in a evil mood, Obi. We only funnin' with he.”

“It doesn't matter,” Thomas said to Obi. “Better find yourself a decent pair of boots.” As Thomas picked through the boots, he told the others where he was from and patiently answered their questions. By the time they left the building, even Obi had to laugh when John said, “I never thought there was such a thing as a colored Yankee!”

After they got their uniforms, the sergeant marched them to the tents where they'd be quartered. In the distance, Obi saw other tents and cabins for the white soldiers.

Beyond, Obi spotted the familiar big, white house and the rows of slave cabins with little black children playing in front of them. Black women walked gracefully with baskets balanced on their heads. The camp was on a former plantation.

Obi, Thomas, John, Joseph, and a young-looking boy named Henry shared a tent. It had been a long day. Obi placed his clothing and the dreaded boots in the corner next to his pallet and lay down.

The men continued to tease Thomas, who took their ribbing good-naturedly. Then they teased Obi because he
was the only one who hadn't tried on his boots. “Y'all don't leave me be, them boots gonna be sittin' top your heads,” he said, not really as angry as he tried to sound. In fact, Obi was beginning to feel quite pleased with himself. He agreed with Joseph, who said, “I ain't sure why these white men be fightin' each other, but we fightin' for we freedom.”

It seemed that as soon as he fell off to sleep, the sound of a bugle woke him up. They dressed in the cold tent. Obi stood up in his blue trousers, jacket, and forage cap, snugly fitting his head. As they started to leave the tent, Joseph stared at Obi's feet. “Where your boot, man?” he asked.

Wiggling his toes in his black socks, Obi said, “These be fine with me.”

Joseph picked up one of Obi's boots and pointed it at him as if it were a gun. Thomas and the others laughed. John shivered as he pulled on his cap. “Better leave Obi alone. He don't like he name or he boots.”

Joseph grabbed Obi's other boot and tossed it to Thomas. “Here, I need help. This go be a big battle.”

Obi backed away from them, smiling and frowning at the same time. Joseph leaped quickly and tackled Obi to the ground. Henry held Obi down while Thomas and Joseph stuffed his feet into the boots.

The men laughed so much that Obi had to force himself to keep an annoyed face. A smile played around his mouth. “Y'all payin' for this. 'Specially you, Thomas. Next time they poke fun at you, I joinin' 'em.”

Laughter followed Obi as he limped out of the tent to the field where the men were lining up for roll call.

Private Jennings didn't learn to like his name or his boots, but he, along with the other men of Company B, adjusted well to military life. Sergeant Michaels noticed how fast Obi learned how to handle the artillery. “Private, you've done this before?” he asked one day after their instruction.

“No, suh. I seen it at the Rebel camp,” Obi answered.

“There's a couple of men I want you to help. They'll get
shot to bits while they load if they don't learn to do it faster.”

Besides the drilling and instruction, Company B was to clear more campground, build cabins, unload ships, cook, clean, and do sentry duty.

In March they were sent to Jacksonville, Florida, to help hold that captured city. In April they returned to South Carolina. They took part in skirmishes and in expeditions along the coastal rivers.

A year passed. They worked hard, even though they were paid only seven dollars a month, instead of the thirteen dollars they'd been promised.

Over the months, Obi's friendship with the men grew—especially with Thomas. Many nights, while the other men relaxed around the campfires, Thomas stayed in the tent with Obi, teaching him the sounds of the alphabet. They had no books, so Thomas used the letters his mother sent from time to time. As he helped Obi read her words, Obi felt as if the letters were also meant for him.

In February 1864, Obi, Thomas, Joseph, and a few of the others in the regiment were transferred to black units in Tennessee. The morning that they left, they stood waving from the deck of the ship that would carry them from the island to the mainland.

The rest of the men in their company, and even Sergeant Michaels, had come to see them off. Obi stood erect, his blue jacket perfectly fitted to his long, slender body and his haversack strapped across his back.

Thomas was next to Obi, his boots polished to a high shine. Joseph wore his cap turned slightly to the side, and he waved a clenched fist.

The boat pulled away from the dock, and the island slowly disappeared from view. Obi realized that he'd miss the men and the camp and that his new life would take him even farther from the life and the people he had always known.

We knew [General Forrest] was in our Country. We knew
he had just butchered Fort Pillow.

From the diary of James T. Ayers,
Civil War Recruiter
May 10, 1864

April 12-13, 1864
The last traces of dark sky disappeared. Obi's thoughts returned to the present as the town began to wake. The blacksmith entered his shop, and the young child who worked at the general store was outside, sweeping the ground in front of the entrance. Several soldiers from the Thirteenth Tennessee Battalion talked and laughed loudly while walking down the bluff toward the river.

The bobwhites called to one another, and the sounds of laughter blended with the clanging blacksmith's hammer. The odor of wood smoke and new grass reminded Obi of the Jennings farm.

Out of habit, Obi patted his breast, making sure the pouch was there. Black soldiers were now receiving the thirteen dollars a month they'd been promised, and Obi had saved sixty dollars.

Leaning back on the steps with his hands behind his head, Thomas swung one of his crossed legs nervously from side to side. His wide eyes scanned the pale, blue sky.

“Looks like a nice spring day, Obi.”

Obi glanced at the gunboat floating peacefully in the river. “I hope it stay nice,” he mumbled.

“Don't worry. As I said before, Rebels try and climb this hill, we can swat them down like flies.”

Suddenly they heard gunfire. It seemed as if the birds, the hammering, and the soldiers' laughter ceased at once. Obi and Thomas grabbed their guns and sprang to their feet. The pickets in the woods were running for cover in the fort. “General Forrest here,” Obi whispered hoarsely. “They attackin' the fort!”

Instead of remaining at his post, Obi ran toward the fort. He scarcely heard Thomas calling his name or the noise when Thomas fired his rifle. These sounded far away to Obi. He stumbled over small rocks, branches, and logs as he ran. The hill had never seemed so steep or difficult to climb. Less than one quarter of the way up the hill, Obi heard Thomas calling him again.

Then Obi saw the Confederate soldiers in their butternut-colored uniforms streaming out of the hollow above the fort. He froze in panic. In that split second he recalled something said to Buka so many months ago: “Old man, you live this long 'cause you had sense enough not to fight no white man.”

Thomas jerked Obi hard and he came to his senses. Before they turned to run back down to the river, the cluster of men rushing toward them were scattered by a shell from one of the Yankee guns.

Thomas and Obi almost slid down the hill on their backs as they tried to run to their post. They hit the ground when a minié ball whizzed over their heads. Yellow and black smoke from the guns darkened the rising sun while screams and shouts merged with the roar of the artillery.

They crawled to the two frame buildings. The boy who had been sweeping earlier lay face up on the ground between the buildings. Obi started to reach for him, then saw that the youngster was dead, half of his face a red, pulpy mass.
By now, Rebel troops were swarming like bees out of the ravines while the Union gunboat in the river shelled them from one ravine to the other.

Thomas and Obi dashed to the general store. They both tumbled into the building, crashing into some barrels near the door. As Thomas tried to load his rifle, his hands trembled so much that Obi had to do it for him.

“It done the same way we learn. No different,” Obi said, handing Thomas the gun. “I get scare too.”

“Don't know what happened. Got nervous all of a sudden,” Thomas muttered, looking embarrassed.

Obi crept under an open window that faced the cabins. “This a good spot to shoot from if any Rebs come out of them woods behind the cabins.” He scrunched in the corner and placed the barrel of his rifle on the windowsill.

Thomas guarded the entrance. They shot at Rebel soldiers who tried to step out of the woods. At about three o'clock the firing stopped. The silence itself seemed loud after all the shelling and gunfire.

“We need to find out what's happening,” Thomas said. Obi's heart banged against his chest as they left the store. They looked around them carefully, walking toward the frame buildings. Obi tried not to stare at the bodies of the dead.

“You boys held your ground. Good soldiers.”

Obi spun around and looked in the face of Sergeant Johnson, the Driver. “Everybody ordered inside the fort. Major Booth was killed at eight o'clock this morning,” he said, trying not to show any emotion. The sergeant rubbed his hands together as he talked. “Rebels flyin' two flags of truce. Forrest send a message to Major Bradford that he want the fort to surrender.”

“Sarge, if we surrender, you know what happen to us?” Obi asked angrily. “Rebels either kill us or put us back in chains.” White officers, as well as their black troops, were threatened with death if captured.

“Don't worry,” he said, trying to sound cheerful, “the Major won't surrender.” He started walking away. “Let me round up the rest of the boys.”

Obi and Thomas climbed the hill to the fort. Bodies of Confederate soldiers were scattered along the crest of the hill. A wounded Union soldier, holding his arm, came out of the cabin that was used as a hospital.

When they entered the fort, they found many of the townspeople taking refuge inside. The girl who reminded Obi of Easter sat in a corner of the floor with her little brother. Her two other brothers—the ones Obi and Thomas called the little generals—ran back and forth with water for the soldiers.

The blacksmith and the man who owned the general store talked quietly, leaning against the wall. Obi and Thomas climbed one of the ladders to the top of the fort. Joseph was at his gun, talking to the other artillerymen.