"Ruin and Redemption"

In the Line of Fire

That night Josiah slept on his satchel to keep the Union uniform concealed. He felt as if he were sleeping on pandora’s box. When sleep failed him, he decided simply to sit awake and keep vigil.

When it was still dark, the fellow who had welcomed them came and got them,and led them out to the ridge, imploring them to be careful.

Joe tried to keep an eye on the fellow ahead of him as he scurried up the ridge blow, ducked below the ridge and hid for a moment looking behind them.

Thankfully, they only saw the one soldier. They quickly then changed uniforms, fumbling in the dark. Josiah questioned whether to leave the now dangerous Confederate uniform behind the ridge or bring it with him. Miller decided to carry it. He knew his commanding officer had better things to do than question their belongings.

The minutes when they were exposed in the early morning sunrise were the most terrifying of Josiah’s life as he sprinted the quarter mile to the Union camp, his satchel getting in his way. He wanted to fling it behind him and run for his life.

Those who met them at the Union Camp greeted him with suspicion.

“What are you doing here, Confederate Spy?” He heard from one man, a bayonet pointed at his throat.

Stay calm and answer the question, Josiah.

“I come to fight for the Union, Sir. My wife is a Negro and her parents are slaves.” Joe was surprised he had been able to speak, let alone so coherently. As he spoke he raised his hand slowly, and pushed the bayonet to the side.

Some of the men grimaced, others looked at him admiringly, and some had skeptical looks on their faces.

“Her name is Mindy. I purchased her from my friend Lizzie to save her from a trader. Her husband needed the money. Anyway, turned out she liked me alright, an’ we ‘cided to get married. An’ even found a preacher to do the job. I freed her first, of course, otherwise, how could she say yes an’ mean it?”

Nobody had an explanation for him.

“Well, that’s a right good story, anyways,” a redheaded man with greasy hair laughed, holding a bottle of spirits and taking a gulp. Others looked on with envy.

“Yeah, a good story. Might be true, too." a tall serious looking fellow said, addressing Joe, then turning to the other men. “Let’s not make war on this man right now. He’s got a reason for fighting with us, I think,” He smiled, extending his hand, “My name is Woodrow Wilson,” he said, “I left a wife back in Pennsylvania; She’s pregnant with our daughter she thinks. I hope I’ll be back to her soon,”

“I hope so, too, sir. My name’s Josiah Walsh, an’ my family lives 'round here. Used to think I’d be fightin’ fer the South, but two of my best friends convinced me the North was right…or closer to it anyways. I’m tryin’ to do what’s right by my wife, an’ the people who know what to do with their freedom but can’t have it unless I fight. Don’t know ‘bout the rest, but hopefully they’ll learn...” Josiah said concerned.

“Yes, of course they will, Josiah. Those of us who teach will stay, or at least come back from time to time so that the Negros can learn the ways of freedom and how to be part of a new society. That’s what I’m fighting for as well,” Woodrow assured him.

Josiah smiled. The men were still staring at him, but more interested in the conversation it seemed, than in judging him for being a Southerner. At least mostly. There were still suspicious looks, and Josiah could hear Williams and Evans being questioned behind him to be certain that they had not picked up a spy from the other side. Josiah wondered if Williams and Evans were themselves spies for the other side. But he kept his mouth shut. He would just be glad he had made it here alive and had eluded detection among the Confederate ranks. He wondered what they were thinking now, when he was not in his bed or in the area. Surely, they wouldn’t come here looking?

“Oh.”

“Yes, I’m fighting for a literate society, where every human being can read whatever he or she chooses, whether it be a Bible or a dictionary.”

“Then you can read and write?”

“Of course! One of the first things I learned in school. Are you literate?”

“I’m not sure.” Joe admitted.

“Can you read and write?”

“Only a little. Not well enough to do much good. I brought a little book with me, though. A gift from my friend.”

“Well, if you need help writing home, I’ll be happy to deliver a message to your wife.”

“Alright, that would be good.” Josiah admitted, feeling a little relief. He had met someone right away who would help him with the letters to Mindy and Lizzie, “I’ll be happy to repay your service any way I can.” He offered. He wanted the stranger to know he wasn’t there to take advantage of anyone.

“Well, if I need it, I’ll let you know, but it would be a pleasure helping you stay in touch. The post will be riding by tomorrow if there’s something you want to take care of today.”

Joe’s first letters back were to Lizzie, Mindy and Rebecca---Brief notes to let them know he was safe and had made it to the Yankee encampment. He grimaced at the dent in his funds the postage made. He was surpised when confederate stamps were put on his letters, and when the postman was a confederate.

“They’re happy to take our letters, so long as we pay double the price on postage. We’re funding the bullets to kill us with our letters.” Woodrow explained, making a face.

The Confederate Post gloated a bit as he accepted the letters, weighed them, and checked the postage before slinging the mail satchel over his shoulder and riding to the nearest drop point, where the letters would be sorted and sent by horse and by train.

They were fighting the battle in three days, the men who had brought him here informed Joe.

He felt his stomach clench into a tight fist. Only three days to prepare. Three days to learn to use the bayonet he was issued. Three days to figure out how to escape bullets flying. Three days before he might be called upon to kill a friend or an aquaintance in the name of a better society. It felt strange and scary. He prayed for courage that night.

It was the morning of the day of the battle. It had arrived, finally. Josiah had barely slept all week. He was running on adrenaline and watered down dandelion and chicory “coffee”. The rations had not been sufficient to give him his usual strength, despite the meat that had been added to the pot by a couple brave souls who had risked running into Confederates, going out in the woods to hunt at night.

Be brave, and don’t stay on the ground if you fall. Get up quickly and run to the next place.

Michael suggested and Josiah listened, rubbing his eyes hard to keep himself awake. He could scarcely believe he was only a few days from where Mindy and Lizzie lived. How long would he be away from them?

The commanding officer walked by the line, surveying them. “Stand straight men, and look tall. Scare the Confederates with your bearing, and they will be too frightened to get close to you, let alone kill you.”

The commanding officer, Fitzilssing, mounted his horse and made several crosses back and forth over the lines. The rest of them were on foot, save for two men who carried the flag on horseback on either end of the line.

When it was time, they marched forward, bayonets facing the enemy lines.