Battle of Lookout Mountain (7 page)

“Would you like some more coffee, Drake?”

“No, Lucille.” He got to his feet, threw down some coins on the table, and walked out without another word.

Lucille picked up the change, then turned back to the kitchen. “You don’t have to be so spiteful about it!” she muttered.

In the middle of the afternoon, Royal and Lori came into the restaurant for ice cream. His face was still slightly puffy around one scar.

“I sure do like ice cream,” Royal said. He lifted his spoon and waved at the waitress. “Bring me one more bowl of this, Lucille, then don’t let me have any more, no matter how much I beg for it!”

Lori sat across the table from him. She had lifted a spoonful of vanilla ice cream but paused and scolded, “You’re going to kill yourself, Royal—eating five bowls of ice cream!”

“An agreeable way to die!” Royal sighed. “I’m not likely to get any ice cream where I’m going. So I’ve got to eat enough to make it last.”

“You’re going to hate going back to the army, I suppose.”

“Oh, no,” he said. “It’s just something that has to be done. There’s no point in moaning and groaning about doing your duty. Lots of the fellows do, but that just makes it worse.”

“I think that’s a good way to look at things,” Lori answered. “Sometimes I spend more time complaining about having to do the ironing than the ironing takes.”

He thought she was looking very pretty today. She wore a yellow dress that suited her well.

They talked about the army as Royal finished his last bowl of ice cream.

“It must be nice to be an officer,” she said.

“I suppose so, but they have lots of responsibility.”

Then Lori said, “I’m going to miss you, Royal.”

Royal looked at her, his warm brown eyes glowing. “You’re not going to miss me as much as you think. The army will be somewhere around the Chattanooga area for some time. Everybody knows there’s going to be fighting. I’ll find some way to get to see you. Maybe you can come out to the camp. We have revival meetings most every time we stay at one place for a spell.”

“I’d like that.” She started to say something else, but then her eyes flew to the door. “Why, hello, Drake.”

Drake Bedford came over to their table. “Mind if I join you?” he asked, his eyes going from Lori to Royal, as though half expecting Royal to tell him to move on.

“Why, sure. Sit down, Drake,” Royal said. “Lori was just telling me she’s leaving for Chattanooga tomorrow.”

“Yes, I know.” Drake shook his head when the waitress approached. “Nothing for me this time, Lucille.” As soon as she turned away, he smiled at Lori. “Hope you have a safe trip back to Tennessee —and an easy one.”

“I wish I didn’t have to go, but my parents insist.”

“I know—it’s too bad about your sister. I hope she’ll get better soon!” Drake said easily.

“I’ll be leaving right away too, Drake,” Royal said. “Just want you to know there’s no hard feelings about the fight.”

“Why, that’s decent of you to say so, Royal. Most fellows wouldn’t be able to put it out of their minds that easy.”

“I don’t believe in holding grudges.”

“Well, I don’t either, and it’s a good thing you feel that way since we’ll probably be pretty close to each other for a while.”

Both Royal and Lori looked blankly at him.

“What do you mean?” Royal asked. “I’ll be leaving with my regiment right away.”

Drake smiled at Lori. “I guess you’ll have to put up with me a little bit more. I’ll be coming to call on you when you get back home, Lori.”

“In Tennessee? But how can you do that, Drake?”

“The U.S. Government is sending me down that way on a business trip.” Drake glanced over at Royal. “The truth is, Royal, I’ve joined up with your outfit. I’ll be in your company, as a matter of fact. In the Washington Blues. I’m the newest recruit.”

For a moment Royal could not believe him.

“You’re not serious, are you, Drake?” Lori exclaimed.

“I was never more serious in my life. I’m already sworn in. Be getting a uniform tomorrow. I’ll be a private, and you’ll be the veteran, Royal—so you’ll be the boss.”

Royal at once understood what Drake was doing, and he was appalled. “Drake,” he said slowly, “I wish you hadn’t done this.”

“Why not? You’re not afraid of a little competition, are you?”

“I wasn’t meaning that,” Royal insisted. He leaned forward earnestly. “Being in the army is a serious thing. It’s not something you do just to go courting. In the first place, you don’t know for sure that we’ll
be
in Chattanooga.”

“Oh, everybody knows that,” Drake said airily. “That’s where the Reb army in Tennessee is, and we got to roust them out. Just read the papers.”

“They might pull out. We might be sent to fight around Richmond instead. A lot of things can happen.”

But Drake did not pay any heed. He turned to Lori again. “That sure is a pretty dress you’ve got on,” he said. “I hope you wear it when I come calling down in Tennessee.”

He rose then and laughed at the expression on Royal’s face. “Don’t worry about it, Professor. You and me, we’ll have a time running the Rebs out of Chattanooga. Then we can go and sit on Miss Lori’s front porch.” He laughed again and walked away.

“He’s so impulsive!” Lori almost whispered.

“Yes, he is,” Royal said, “and he’s going to find out that soldiering’s not quite as easy as he thinks.” He frowned. “Drake’s always had his own way. Nobody could ever tell him anything. And now he’s going to find out he’s only one more private in a mighty big army. They’ve got ways of making life miserable for you.”

Lori leaned over and touched his hand. “But
you
won’t, will you? Most men would, but not you. Drake needs help. He doesn’t know God, and he’s headed for a fall. Kind of watch out for him, will you, Royal?”

Royal took her hand and held it and smiled encouragingly. “I’ll do the best I can—but most men don’t pay any more attention to the sergeant than the rules say they have to.”

The next day Rosie surprised Drake, just as Rosie had been surprised himself by the news that Drake was joining the army. As Drake was packing, Rosie entered the room the two shared and announced, “Well, I can’t let you go off by yourself to this here fight. Reckon I’ll just go along too.”

Drake looked up, mouth open. “What’d you say, Rosie?”

Rosie pulled out a suitcase and began loading his enormous supply of pills and potions and bottles into it.

“I’ve been meanin’ to sign up for quite a while— this here war is the biggest thing that is ever gonna be in our time. Otherwise, don’t reckon I could rightly face my grandchildren when they said, ‘What did you do in the war, Grandpa?’ I’ll go along and be sure you’re all right.”

Rosie held up a large blue bottle and scowled. “I’m about out of Dr. Zokor’s Famous Kidney Medicine,” he said. “Have to get some on the way.”

Drake actually was glad to hear of Rosie’s enlistment. He would’ve missed his friend a great deal. He slapped the gangly boy on the back. “We’ll show ’em how to soldier, won’t we?”

“To tell the truth, I don’t expect to live long enough to get to the battlefield. But in case I do kick the bucket, I want you to bury me proper, wherever we are.”

Drake merely laughed. He went back and began sorting through his clothes. “We’ll be too busy burying Rebs for me to bury you,” he said. The idea of putting on a uniform thrilled him. He looked around the room. “We’ll have to get rid of most of our stuff,” he said. “Uncle Sam is going to feed and clothe us for the next few months.”

Rosie, however, was looking down at his supply of medicines. “I hope they got good doctors in this here regiment. My condition needs good medical care.”

O
n September 4, the Union army crossed the Tennessee River toward Chattanooga. Their plan was to get behind the Confederates, cut off their supplies, and bottle them up in the city. The Southerners then would be forced either to fight their way out, surrender, or starve.

The sun had gone down by the time campfires were lit, and soon the cooks were busy roasting beef for the army’s evening meal. Royal stood looking about the company, pleased with the showing the Washington Blues had made.

Jay Walters came by. “Well, Professor, when do you think we’ll catch up with the Rebels?”

“Don’t call me that—at least not until we’re back home.”

“Aw, sorry about that, Royal.”

At that moment they were joined by Walter Beddows, also a member of A Company from Pineville. The three of them had fished together, had hunted together, and now had fought together in earlier battles.

Royal looked at them fondly. “You know,” he said quietly, “it’s good to have you fellows here. Good to have men you know on each side of you when the fighting starts.”

“You’re right about that,” Jay said. He was tall, very thin, and had light brown eyes and reddish-brown hair. He glanced over to where Rosie and
Drake sat beside the fire, watching the cooks prepare supper. “Now there are five of us in the company from Pineville.”

“That Rosie, though,” Jay said. “He’s always taking medicine. I didn’t know a man could have so many ailments!”

Royal grinned, looking at the lanky Rosie, who was spreading his hands as he told some tall tale to the soldiers who had gathered about him. “He sure is a talker, but I think he’s as healthy as a horse. I think he’s a hypochondriac.”

Jay Walters stared at him. “Is that anything like an Episcopalian?”

“No, you ignoramus!” Beddows exclaimed. “That means a fellow who always thinks he’s sick.”

“Well,” Jay said, “that’s Rosie all right. Still, he’s a good soldier. But Drake, I don’t know about him.”

Silence fell over the small group. Royal figured they were all thinking the same thing. Drake, as far as the physical part of soldiering was concerned, had proved to be an outstanding new recruit. He was strong, an excellent shot with a musket, and his eyesight was keen enough to make him a valuable asset. On the other hand, he was not as popular as Rosie, for he was constantly boasting about what would happen to the Rebels when the Union army caught up with them.

“I wish he’d soften up on his bragging a little bit, for a fact,” Walter Beddows mused. “He’s not doing himself any favors with the rest of the company.”

Royal knew that this was true. He had not said anything to Drake yet, but he was sure that Bedford was in for trouble.

Soon the call for mess came, and the troops gathered around with their plates and tin cups.
Royal took his helping of roast beef and bread and coffee, then sat down with the other members of the squad.

The cooks had done a good job, and Rosie had urged one to overload his plate. Now he sat down with a small mountain of beef.

“That’s a lot of beef for a sick man, Rosie!” Walter Beddows teased.

“Well, you know, Walter,” Rosie said, nodding wisely, “every meal I eat, it’s like the fellow that was about to be hanged. You know when they hang fellows, they give ’em anything they want for their last meal.” He picked up a huge forkful of meat, chewed on it, and swallowed with a shudder. “Way I figure it, with a man in my condition, every meal might be his last.”

Murmurs went around the campfire, and smiles were hidden behind hands. The squad was well aware of Rosie’s peculiarities.

Drake ate with a healthy appetite and, putting his plate down, went for another cup of coffee. When he came back, he sat down and looked around him. “Feel sorry for those Rebels,” he said with a grin. “They’ll never know what hit ’em after the Washington Blues get through with ’em.”

Royal felt it was time to put some sort of brake on this recruit. “Drake,” he said, “I think you’ve got the wrong idea about those Confederates.”

“How’s that?” Drake challenged.

“Well, you seem to think all we have to do is say, ‘Boo,’ and they’ll turn around and head for Richmond.”

Drake leaned back on an elbow and sipped his coffee. He had an air of supreme confidence. “After
Gettysburg, I reckon we proved who’s got the best army.”

“I’m not sure of that at all,” Royal said. “I talked to Tom Majors. He doesn’t like to talk about the war, but he told us about how his outfit went across that field right into enemy fire. Well, those Southern fellows are fighting for their homes. They’re not going to turn around and run just because we show up at Chattanooga.”

“Aw, Royal,” Drake scoffed, “don’t be an old woman.”

Later, when Drake Bedford and Rosie were alone, Rosie said, “You know, Drake, we’re newcomers to this here army business. Might be best if we didn’t brag so much.”

Drake stared with dissatisfaction at Rosie. “I know they think I’m a braggart, but I’ll show ’em when the time comes. So will you, Rosie. We been out on enough hunts together—coons and deer—we know how to hit a target.”

Rosie’s homely face was unsmiling. “Yeah,” he said, “but coon and deer—they don’t shoot back.”

However, Drake paid no attention to him.

The next night he got out his fiddle and began to play. Fiddling was his chief contribution to the march. All soldiers loved music, and the Washington Blues were no exception. Drake could play anything well, it seemed, and often joined in the singing himself.

He began to sing a song called “Come in Out of the Draft.”

The draft—or “conscription,” as it was called— was practiced in both South and North. Volunteers often did not fill the gaps, so men had to be forced
to enlist in the army. It was possible to hire a substitute to go in your place, or sometimes simply getting married got a man off the hook. In any case, the “conscripts” were looked down on by the rest of the soldiers.

The song went: