I Shall Be Near to You(31)

The fort is nothing but dirt and banks and ditches and telegraph wires strung up on poles, jittering in the cold wind coming off the river. We march along a tall fence looking like a row of trees with their branches peeled off and through a wide gate, slipping our way through the melting snow and mud, heading to the high ground, the whole Regiment together now, all eleven Companies, more than two whole villages of people.

‘We’re really soldiers now,’ Sully yells.

Jeremiah says, ‘You got that right!’ and he don’t even look my way. Instead, he somehow gets the boys talking about the war.

Edward is the only one louder than Sully and the two of them next to each other make a fine pair, Edward with his tree-thick limbs and Sully with his deer legs.

‘Don’t mean much, being a soldier in the Army when the Navy is doing all the fighting,’ Edward says. ‘Those damn Greybacks keep making the Union look like a pack of fools, sinking our warships!’

‘That ain’t what I heard,’ Sully says. ‘I heard the USS Monitor beat the Rebs’ ironclad down there in Chesapeake Bay!’

‘They say there ain’t even been any soldiers killed, Union or Confederate, on those ironclads,’ Jimmy says quiet.

‘Where you getting your news?’ Edward asks. ‘I like what you’ve been hearing!’

‘Maybe we should’ve signed on with the Navy,’ Jeremiah says.

‘Ain’t any grief in joining an Army that don’t fight much,’ I say.

‘You don’t see any grief?’ Edward shouts, turning on me. ‘I’d sure like to know what you’re doing in an Army if you ain’t keen on fighting! People are counting on us keeping those Seceshes from coming North, is what you mean. The Seceshes have got designs on our goddamn Capital, and we’re here to stop them. But I guess you’d rather let those Rebs run roughshod all over us on their way to Washington?’

‘I’m saying if the Union wins the war and I don’t have to fight—’ As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I live to regret them.

‘We got people counting on us back home, is all Ross means,’ Jeremiah says real quick, his hand on my elbow.

I keep on even though Edward’s eyes are trained on my face, even as he’s stepping closer to me, his shoulders back in a way that makes my hands go to fists. ‘I’m saying there’s all kinds of things I aim to do in my life—’

‘And what might that be?’ Edward says. ‘What you got to do that’s more important than winning this—’

‘The Navy keeps winning, maybe we ain’t ever going to get our chance to fight—or even see a battlefield!’ Jeremiah steps right in front of me and shoots me a look withering enough to dry up a whole garden. Somehow his words are enough to get the boys talking about Rebels and when the next Union victory will be, and then no one is worrying themselves over the fool thoughts I can’t keep in my head even to save myself and I am left to be secretly pleased over Jeremiah protecting me like he ought.

No one seems to mind him, but old Thomas Stakely says the thing I like best. ‘All the Union needs is one good General and one good win. Then this war will be over and we’ll have our country back and be home to our kin before harvest time.’

No matter what Edward or Jeremiah says, there’s comfort in the idea that maybe we won’t ever see Rebels up close, that maybe they will just stay where they belong, and Jeremiah will stop trying to send me home without him. We might almost be to Nebraska come Fall. All I know is, looking at dirt and dead trees ain’t how I plan to spend my last days. This fort’s cannons don’t make me feel safe, but I sure ain’t ready to be marching across a field with only my musket between me and the Rebels.


SULLY IS ITCHY to go with the millboys who keep talking war the loudest, but Jeremiah says, ‘We’ve got to stick close—look out for each other.’ It makes Sully roll his eyes and Henry mutter, ‘Watch out for Ross is what you mean,’ but still those boys come along.

We line up in front of a rough-hewn shed with chinks left between the timbers. Captain Chalmers is standing there, the Union flag flapping behind him, a strange officer next to him, a big man with sloped shoulders and a down-turned mouth to match. The only bright thing about him is his gold tasseled sash.

‘I heard that’s Colonel Wheelock in front of the blockhouse,’ Sully whispers.

‘Men,’ Colonel Wheelock booms, ‘this is our home until we’re ordered on campaign. I apologize there’s no proper barracks, but as you’ve already endured tents this past month, I expect it will be no great hardship.’ He points to a wagon standing off to his side, stacked with big wooden crates. ‘Those are your tents there, to be pitched as soon as we have laid out the rows.’

While we wait, Sergeant Ames tells us our tents are big enough to fit four, but because we are the only Regiment at the fort, for now we only have to be two to a tent. Jeremiah winks at me. I’m thinking on the niceness of a tent to ourselves when Sully punches Jeremiah on the shoulder and says, ‘I need a partner. Think Sergeant’ll let me share with you?’

Will spins, a hurt look on his face, and Jeremiah don’t say anything at first. There’s buzzing all around us, boys saying, ‘You got anybody yet?’ and ‘I’m bunking with you!’ or ‘You need a friend?’