The leather was wrapped tight in his hand. The reins pulled tight enough to keep Capt. James West uncomfortable enough to stay awake on this brittle morning. Shifting in his saddle he looked backward over his shoulder and then back down the cattle path and sighed, watching his breath curl like smoke from General Grant's cigars.
Where was Mulgrew?
In the distance West could hear the cannonade fire, and the enemy response. He stood in his stirrups and cocked his head slightly. Artillery fire from that far east? Positions were moving? Something sounded off. The direction of the battle was off...it sounded like things weren't going well.
Where the HELL was Mulgrew?
Grant trusted this spy...and he trusted the handsome young Calvary officer to deliver the troop movements to him. Jim was getting nervous.
Not because he was afraid that he would be caught. He'd sat in conversation with fellow officers that were shot off their horses just feet from him by a sniper's minie. That was becoming commonplace for him. It went with the territory now. He could sit his horse with the balls and shot buzzing past him like mosquitoes on a summer evening without flinching...most of them could.
No...He was afraid he'd disappoint Grant...he was afraid that if he didn't get those troop positions to his commander soon that more lives would be lost. And even if the battle was lost that the information would allow them a safe escape route and save them all from languishing in someplace like Andersonville.
Jim checked his pocket watch again.
Why did Grant trust these actor types? They were overly flamboyant, grandiose, and prone to tardiness. James had met the type in similar situations several times and almost all these actor spies looked particularly shifty to Jim and invariably showed up at their rendezvous in some god-awful, transparent "disguise". Jim scowled slightly. He wasn't sure what he would be doing after the war...if he would retain his commission or move into another line of work...but whatever he did he was positive it would have nothing to do with actors.
Just as he completed this thought he heard the thunder of hooves roll toward him on the empty field. As a precaution he sidestepped his mount into the cover of the trees at the edge of the field. When he saw the rider drag his horse to a halt and look around frantically Jim looked around and reentered the field. Mulgrew gave a startled jerk of his reins, which set his horse to hopping testily to the right. Jim reached out and took the horse's reins and drew the horse against his to calm it. Mulgrew stared wide eyed for a moment, obviously calming down his heart.
"Captain West, I presume?" he said unsteadily making a half bow from his saddle.
Jim nodded. He noted the sweat that made small lines through the actor's pancake that Mulgrew was wearing. Why did he need that? Perhaps some of the board steppers couldn't live without their masks...he didn't understand it.
"Do you have what we need Mulgrew?" West extended his hand for the sealed letter that Mulgrew fished from his pockets. Jim took the letter and noticed that the man's arm was bleeding. He had taken a pretty deep gouge in the upper arm, back to front by the look of his coat and he was bleeding freely. Jim guided both their horses into the woods hurriedly and reassessed his opinion of Mulgrew.
Taking a kerchief from his pocket Jim fashioned a hasty bandage. The man's pale lips drew back in a shaky, grateful smile. "What's the situation? Are you being followed?" Jim asked, his voice lowered.
Mulgrew shook his head. "I was...but I put him down about 2 miles back. Look...you need to get this to Grant. Stuart's got 4 brigades making their way up the river on our east flank. He already charged through the lines and divided us down the center and he is coming around to surround half our compliment with the new troops." He paused to take a drink from his canteen. Jim looked around warily and waited.
"Stuart is chasing our men toward the river...they are going to be slaughtered. Grant needs to either stop the retreat or engage the enemy at the river with new troops...."
Jim sat rigid in his saddle. Mulgrew was a surprise after all. Not the total popinjay West had taken him for.
The war made strange bedfellows...brave men from the oddest sources. Uncommon soldiers.
Jim gave the tired Mulgrew a couple of blocks of hardtack and dried beef he had on him and put the letter deep inside his coat and slapped the man on the back. He wheeled his horse around and kicked the stallion into movement.
Jim stayed off the main road, which made his speed sporadic at best when the trees became too dense. Besides he wasn't willing to see his horse go down on a root. But he saw the urgency...and he realized he was directly between the retreating Union soldiers and the crush of rebel troops on both sides. He would stand a better chance meeting up with the commanders of the retreating soldiers and then making his way to Grant then the other way round. If he made straight for Grant then there wouldn't be time to change the course of the battle...just a desperate report and watching a disaster unfold.
Jim barreled into the woods and listened for the guns that marked the running battle. Through the dense woodland Jim heard the soldier before he saw him and when the boy in blue looked up he nearly fell over backwards, narrowly turning his rifle away from the officer on the horse.
Jim almost grinned. The kid was scared but he was quick and wasn't firing at anything that moved.
"Sir!" saluted the soldier raggedly. The kid looked over his shoulder and back at Capt. West. "Sir...iffen you don't mind, you best git off yer horse afore you're blasted offen him!"
Jim smiled this time. "Thanks for your concern soldier. But I'm in a bit of a hurry kid...I may need him. I need to speak to your commanding officer right now. Can you take me to him?"
The boy had already placed himself behind a tree to continue their talk. "I could sir...cept'n he ain't doin' us much good since he's dead and all. All the officers are...leastwise the ones that was with us when the Rebs split us in half." The boy looked up through tired, worried eyes. "Which is why, sir, if you wouldn't mind not makin' yerself a big target, we could sure use your help..." The boy ducked as tree bark exploded next to his head where a minie ball struck the trunk of his hiding place.
Jim felt another ball brush his hair and slid off his horse between the beast and battle and smacked the animal out of the way and joined the impertinent youngster.
"Suddenly your suggestion makes a whole lot of sense." He acknowledged through gritted teeth.
More young soldiers burst from the trees and Jim stood long enough to motion to them. The sight of an officer brought a small cheer from some of the battered yanks. It was heartbreakingly painful to see these kids...some of them not much older then Jim's youngest brother Red...cheering hopefully for Jim.
While Jim had fought bravely in battle...while he had distinguished himself with his skills enough to catch the attention of General Grant, Capt. James West had never commanded.
Now James, by default, was the commander of the New York 33rd regiment.
And as James looked around he could see that the tired kid behind the tree was his second in command. Jim looked the young corporal over. He was a slight fellow with dirty sandy hair that fell into green eyes beneath a blue hat with a hole bisecting it in a way that frightened Jim by just how close that call had been for the lad. Jim imagined that the boy must be stronger then he looked. He couldn't have been taller then 5'3 and was maybe 16 or 17 if he was a day...but looks were deceiving and the fellow's eyes seemed older.
"Corporal...?" addressed Jim.
"Corporal Robert Hendricks...Sir!" responded the youngster crisply.
Jim nodded seriously. "Corporal Hendricks. Give me your report." Jim watched as the wooded clearing filled with men of all sizes and shapes...hunkered behind trees and logs...making breastworks out of rocks and ducking behind them as a hail of gunfire assaulted them.
While Hendricks sat behind his tree and almost casually reloaded, flinching slightly as another shot struck his heavy cover he answered briskly. "Sir...we got abouts 200 fellas, more or less and the Rebs got us out numbered by about half as many more. We're down to about 6 shots each and have been scavenging ammunition from the dead. They seem to be fixin't to drown us in the river."
Jim shook his head. "Nope...they're fixin' to drive you into the fresh troops they have sneeking up behind us FROM the river."
The boy's eyes widened and he whistled. "That ain't good." he laughed. It was a gallows laugh but it was a show of humor that Jim didn't expect from the little fellow.
Jim grinned back.
"Well sir...what will we do? Die fighting the tired ones or die fighting the fresh ones?"
"Which do you prefer?" asked Jim getting into the morbid sense of fun.
"Well sir.." said the young corporal pursing his lips. "I reckon I'd prefer the tired ones comin' at us. I'm gettin' to know some of 'em right personal like, and I would hate to switch partners mid dance."
Jim laughed out loud this time. He liked this kid.
But what to do? Then it dawned on him that their only option WAS to stick with the same dance partner..like Corporal Hendricks suggested.
This may be Jim's first & last command. If he could help it...it would be memorable.
Jim had the corporal send runners down the ragged line and they all gathered in a column shaped like a wedge, instead of a string.
"We're going to do what J.E.B. did in reverse. We are going to break their ranks in half and meet up with the rest of the regiment on the other side." Jim explained to the men and the word was passed down. "Do the men understand all the way down Hendricks?"
"Yes sir. I told them we're gonna plow a straight line...scream at the top of our lungs and run like hell for the other side." Said Hendricks with a sly smile. There was laughing and encouraging shouts along the column. The boy had the heart of veterans far older then he. That was a rare gift. If they made it Jim would see what he could do to see that he got some officer's training.
Jim clapped him on the shoulder. If he was going to command for the first time he could certainly do worse then this brash and game young man. He'd certainly seen enough stupid clods take control when it arose and reverse a well planned battle. Yes...if finding yourself unexpectedly leading men to their deaths, you could do far worse then this all the way around..
Then Jim was suddenly aware that Grant needed to know what was happening...he had to plan the counter attack...he could still bring fresh troops in to take Stuart's Rebs at the river. He reached in his jacket and pulled out the letter. He looked over the men in the column behind him and then he quickly turned to Cpl. Hendricks.
"Corporal. Can you ride a horse?" Jim put his fingers to his lips and let out a shrill whistle. Then turning back to the woods Jim smiled as his horse burst from the woods with a responsive whinny.
"Yes sir, I can." Said the boy staring at the big horse with some trepidation and looking toward where the enemy would emerge soon with boyish disappointment.
Capt. West handed the letter to the boy surprised by how small his dirty, rough hands actually were and he took the boy's rifle and handed him his revolver instead. Then almost tossing him into the saddle he told him. "The General is waiting for this. You are to get this message to him and wait."
The corporal looked ready to argue.
"That's an order kid!" Jim said gruffly.
The boy saluted from the horse. "Yes Sir!" He shouted.
Then Jim smacked the horse's backside and watched the boy lean into the mane and crash into the forest.
Then turning back to his troops Jim called them to attention.
"FIX BAYONETS!" he shouted and the men promptly complied.
Then placing himself at the front of the wedge he held the men back as death crashed in closer...two men fell, and Jim sucked in a breath, but he held them in order until the Rebs were almost within touching distance then he yelled.
"CHARGE!!!"
And the men rushed forward with an earsplitting version of a rebel yell. With their bayonets and musket and minie balls clearing a path they ran...they screamed..shot..stabbed and ran straight and fast as hell. They did what their Corporal told them to do and what their commander led them to do.
The Rebs fought hard...but the fierce plunge straight through their center thinned and parted...with Reb eyes wide and screams from both sides as men fell. But there was no ground to fight for...no prisoners they were looking for...no position the union soldiers were trying to hold. There was no stopping them...they ran straight through cutting a bloody swath and kept going...they didn't complete their charge until they staggered to within shot of the other half of their regiment. The chasing Rebs turned and ran hard for the river. And after Jim's warning the reunited regiment did not follow...they weren't going to fall into Stuart's teeth...they made their way out of the valley and behind Grant's line and they cheered as their replacements charged back into their positions and pushed Stuart back across the river he had sought to trap them against.
Capt. West made his way through crowd's of his congratulatory first command and into Grant's tent.
Saluting smartly and smiling widely he reached out a hand and took Ulysses S. Grant's bear-like grip and shook it warmly.
"I send you out to pick up the mail and you end up in command." Laughed the General. "I'm going to have to keep you on my side...you're trouble."
Jim laughed and looked around and spotted the letter on Grant's field desk. "Well I had a lot of help out there...Corporal Hendricks for one." He picked up the letter. "Where is he? The kid has real leadership skills...he'd make a good junior officer...."
Grant looked puzzled. "He isn't here...he said he wanted to get back to the battle."
Jim felt uneasy. "I ordered him to stay put."
Grant scowled. "He was wounded when he arrived. Bleeding from a shot to the leg. But he was still mobile and he wouldn't let himself checked over. He just turned that horse of yours around and went back into the battle."
Jim wasn't listening he was out of the tent and had commandeered a horse and bolted back into the wooded valley.
Jim could still hear gunshot and cannon fire as the unionists drove back stragglers. As the gunshots softened in the distance Jim peered into the dying day filtering through the trees. "Corporal Hendricks!" he shouted.
He stopped to listen for a response and got none. Then he put his hand to his mouth and whistled for his horse. He paused and did it again...he listened for a time and whistled once more.
With a startled and panicked neighing he heard his horse dive out of the forest and sidle up to his new mount. Jim swung down off his saddle and began to comb the area. He stomped through brush and grumbled. All he knew now was that he wanted to promote Hendricks so he could have the pleasure of demoting him personally for disobeying orders!
Then Jim heard a moan and he called out.
This time he got a faint response. "Over here sir!"
Jim found the boy lying on his side on the other side of a log. He was half covered by a Confederate officer with a hole blown cleanly through him. As Jim rolled the body off Hendricks the boy gasped painfully and Jim winced to see the officer's sword deep in the boy's gut.
Jim pried the officer's hand off the hilt and took off his jacket and he eased the sword out of the wound. The Corporal pulled a lead shot out of his belt and put it in his teeth and closed his eyes and tried not to scream. When the sword came out he spit out the pain bullet and smiled. "Lookie there. I took me a officer's sword!"
Jim grimaced at the lad's continued gallow's humor.
Then Jim set to work undoing the boy's jacket but instead of exhausted relief the boy fought back...he pushed Jim's hands away. Jim looked at him as though he were mad and the young soldier scowled angrily and Jim was surprised to see tears in the brave lad's eyes. But the soldier looked more embarrassed then anything else and Jim assured him.
"Kid...you haven't got anything I haven't seen before."
The boy placed his small hand on Jim's. Jim looked up and the boy's face seemed odd. He was staring earnestly at Jim and his voice was impossibly soft...soft.
There was a weak, pain-filled laugh. "You've probably seen some of these things before...but not on a soldier."
Jim cocked his head curiously and opened the bulky blue jacket and shirt of the wounded corporal apprehensively and then hastily reclosed them. He sat back on his heels and his eyes bugged. Corporal Hendricks was a GIRL!
Jim recovered his composure and leaned in. He opened the coat and shirt slightly and pressed the jacket against the blood welling from the gut wound and the corpor...girl...made a small muffled cry.
Jim stole furtive looks at Hendricks face. How could he have missed it before? He felt really foolish. It isn't as though he hadn't known more then a few young ladies. He'd even heard rumors of girls in disguise who were caught in ranks. But the rumors depicted females of loose morals and weak constitutions. This girl was plain...perhaps even abit homely, and she was strong and smart and dedicated. But this wasn't right. It wasn't right at all! He tended Hendrick's wounds, but he was angry now. When the he finished he looked into the girl's green eyes and just asked. "Why?"
The girl mouthed the question back...she seemed to roll it over her tongue..her brain...looking for the answer, and then she shrugged.
"It weren't like I was getting' any offers or any work that I could help my family live on." She smiled sadly. "I ain't no pretty city girl, just a farm girl with a dead Mama , a sick Poppa, and too many mouthes to feed."
Jim shook his head. "You couldn't have become a housemaid...a washer woman?"
"And make pennies when a soldier with half as much strength as me was makin' dollars?"
"So you did it for money?" Jim sounded disappointed and the girl looked at him sourly.
"I did it cuz I'm a Yankee girl as good enough as to fight for our flag as the next man and as good enough as to git paid for it proper like!" She drew herself up painfully and she cried out. "I been wounded twice in battle before this day and I worked hard and marched hard and I ain't never asked anyone to carry my load or pull my duty! I was a damn fine soldier!"
Then she fell back exhausted and Jim looked at her with distress to see the color drain out of her face. She looked shocked...as though she suddenly realized that her injuries were worse then she thought. She grabbed his arm.
"If I live you will make sure they drum me out?"
Jim nodded.
She swallowed hard. "But you'll not let them call me a whore?"
Jim felt wounded by the suggestion that he might allow that. He shook his head. "I won't let them call you that...ever."
Then her eyes closed slightly. Her voice was a sudden whisper. "Iffen I die...then being a girl or not doesn't matter cuz I died a soldier." Her eyes opened wider again, but it looked like an effort. "Iffen I die...promise me you'll bury me a man...a soldier...and go to my Poppa and let him know how I died and that I weren't no whore and that I took an officer's sword." Her breathing became labored and her words barely a whisper. "Please...please promise."
Capt. James West didn't know what to say. Part of him wanted to protest to Hendricks that she wasn't going to die. But her blood was as obstinate as she was, and refused to stem it's flow.
Part of him knew there was a great chance that he could make sure that she was buried as she requested. During war, bodies weren't checked as closely as they should be. Beyond checking for breath, everyone knew the cause of death...so no one looked. And most soldiers never made it to the ground wearing their Sunday best...most wore the gore splattered uniforms they died in. If James West wrapped her in a saddle blanket then she would have already gotten a better service then many soldiers in the field got.
But if he were caught? Then what?
Could he risk his commission for this girl he had known less then a day, and known as a girl for less then 30 minutes?
The girl was struggling for each breath now and Jim had moved her head onto his lap. Instinctively he cradled her. He held her hand. He had done this with more then a few dying comrades on the field in this war. He had even found a dying friend or two on the other side that he had comforted as they drew their last breaths. Was this any different? In the end we all die alone.
But James West knew the predominant fear of many soldiers who had watched their friends die around them. Most of them didn't want their death to pass unnoticed. Most didn't want to pass unrecognized, and unmourned. Jim squeezed Hendricks' hand.
"I promise."
Hendricks smiled and reached a hand toward a pocket and Jim took the cue and helped her fish a letter out.
"Poppa ain't written much." She exhaled and gasped. "But his address is here. This is where my mustering out pay needs to git to. They need it. It will help."
Jim nodded. "And I won't forget the sword either."
There was a gurgling chuckle and a wheeze. "You make sure my baby brother gits that. You tell him how his sister liberated that there officer of it."
"I'll tell him...I promise."
She nodded and got quiet. For the longest time they didn't speak. Jim wasn't even sure she was still alive. Then her voice stirred the darkening sky.
"I was a good soldier...wasn't I?"
Jim brushed the hair from her dimming eyes. "One of the best." He said quietly. Then she was gone.
Capt. West did as he promised. And more. Jim busied himself through the moonlit night. He washed her face & hands and took her personal effects. A ring, a couple of returned letters, a photo of herself in uniform. He took the blanket roll off his horse and sewed her into the shroud leaving the face visible...the sewing unfinished until the men in her troop could identify "him". Then he cleaned her sword and took the officer's sheath.
Rules of war made it difficult to take this from the fallen fellow officer...but the girl had earned this prize the hard way and as far as Jim was concerned it was hers.
He tied her body to the back of his horse, and he rode into camp, leading the black stallion, just as the dawn was breaking.
The men in the camp had spent the evening before doing much the same that Jim had. Gathering as many of their dead as they could from the field and comforting the dying and tending the wounded. But the tired men of the New York Company gently lifted down the corpse of their Corporal and hats were removed as the men openly wept, in some cases, for the daring young soldier. General Grant left his tent and stood next to Jim and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Sir...I made a promise to Corporal Hendricks sir." He took a deep breath..he had never lied to a commanding officer before. "I promised him that I would see to his burial...and that I would inform his father."
Grant looked down on the pale faced corpse in the shroud.
"Let this boy be buried with full honors. Then take some leave and inform his family. I'm sure they'll appreciate it."
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Thirty days later Major James West was standing in front of a shrunken old man on the dilapidated porch of a farm too big for him to handle.
It was a difficult meeting. Made more difficult by the old man who didn't want to discuss a daughter he felt ashamed of. Jim tried to correct the man about what he considered her wanton attitudes. He managed to learn that her real name was Rose. He wanted to make the man proud of the girl he couldn't understand...that Jim still had difficulty understanding. But the man just took her mustering out pay and went back into his home.
As Jim walked down the dirt path toward his horse a boy with sandy, lank hair and green eyes followed him.
Looking around Jim leaned down in his saddle. "You're Rose's little brother?" he asked with a smile.
"Yup." Spoke the boy of about nine. "You a suitor?" He asked.
Jim grinned awkwardly. "No son...I'm a friend of hers. She asked me to find you and give you some things of hers and have you keep them. To remember her by."
The boy looked down at his bare feet and kicked a stone.
"She done got herself kilt, din't she?"
Jim nodded. "She died a soldier, son...do you want to know what happened?"
The boy nodded. Jim got off his horse and handed the boy the sheathed confederate sword. "Let me tell you about this first...."
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Jim & Artie walked together in the cemetery of Union dead...Artie told stories about some of the soldiers names he recognized and Jim did likewise.
Both of them marveled aloud about the huge numbers of unknown graves. Both marveled at the loss of life.
Then as they approached one small headstone of white Artie read the name.
"Cpl. Robert Hendricks" Artie watched out of the corner of his eye. Jim stared at the stone and chewed his lower lip. "Did you know him?"
Jim nodded and smiled sadly. "Hendricks was a good kid. War makes some of the strangest soldiers.... you know? Hendricks was...an Uncommon Soldier."
Artie felt that that was all he would ever know...so he left his friend to contemplate.
Jim stood for a long time by the small grave. Then he smiled and shook his head in wonder. He didn't think he'd ever figure it all out...but he was guessing maybe someday she'd explain it all to him better.
Standing back, he snapped to attention and saluted. Then turning smartly he caught up to Artie.
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(I'd like to thank Wild Wild West for the Characters of Jim & Artie...and I'd like to thank historical records for brave soldiers like the Corporal in this story. There are more then 400 OFFICIAL records and documentation recording similar soldiers during the civil war. Imagine all the soldiers that were never discovered...imagine all the women who lay in unmarked graves, or under assumed names.
Imagine all the Uncommon Soldiers.)
Where was Mulgrew?
In the distance West could hear the cannonade fire, and the enemy response. He stood in his stirrups and cocked his head slightly. Artillery fire from that far east? Positions were moving? Something sounded off. The direction of the battle was off...it sounded like things weren't going well.
Where the HELL was Mulgrew?
Grant trusted this spy...and he trusted the handsome young Calvary officer to deliver the troop movements to him. Jim was getting nervous.
Not because he was afraid that he would be caught. He'd sat in conversation with fellow officers that were shot off their horses just feet from him by a sniper's minie. That was becoming commonplace for him. It went with the territory now. He could sit his horse with the balls and shot buzzing past him like mosquitoes on a summer evening without flinching...most of them could.
No...He was afraid he'd disappoint Grant...he was afraid that if he didn't get those troop positions to his commander soon that more lives would be lost. And even if the battle was lost that the information would allow them a safe escape route and save them all from languishing in someplace like Andersonville.
Jim checked his pocket watch again.
Why did Grant trust these actor types? They were overly flamboyant, grandiose, and prone to tardiness. James had met the type in similar situations several times and almost all these actor spies looked particularly shifty to Jim and invariably showed up at their rendezvous in some god-awful, transparent "disguise". Jim scowled slightly. He wasn't sure what he would be doing after the war...if he would retain his commission or move into another line of work...but whatever he did he was positive it would have nothing to do with actors.
Just as he completed this thought he heard the thunder of hooves roll toward him on the empty field. As a precaution he sidestepped his mount into the cover of the trees at the edge of the field. When he saw the rider drag his horse to a halt and look around frantically Jim looked around and reentered the field. Mulgrew gave a startled jerk of his reins, which set his horse to hopping testily to the right. Jim reached out and took the horse's reins and drew the horse against his to calm it. Mulgrew stared wide eyed for a moment, obviously calming down his heart.
"Captain West, I presume?" he said unsteadily making a half bow from his saddle.
Jim nodded. He noted the sweat that made small lines through the actor's pancake that Mulgrew was wearing. Why did he need that? Perhaps some of the board steppers couldn't live without their masks...he didn't understand it.
"Do you have what we need Mulgrew?" West extended his hand for the sealed letter that Mulgrew fished from his pockets. Jim took the letter and noticed that the man's arm was bleeding. He had taken a pretty deep gouge in the upper arm, back to front by the look of his coat and he was bleeding freely. Jim guided both their horses into the woods hurriedly and reassessed his opinion of Mulgrew.
Taking a kerchief from his pocket Jim fashioned a hasty bandage. The man's pale lips drew back in a shaky, grateful smile. "What's the situation? Are you being followed?" Jim asked, his voice lowered.
Mulgrew shook his head. "I was...but I put him down about 2 miles back. Look...you need to get this to Grant. Stuart's got 4 brigades making their way up the river on our east flank. He already charged through the lines and divided us down the center and he is coming around to surround half our compliment with the new troops." He paused to take a drink from his canteen. Jim looked around warily and waited.
"Stuart is chasing our men toward the river...they are going to be slaughtered. Grant needs to either stop the retreat or engage the enemy at the river with new troops...."
Jim sat rigid in his saddle. Mulgrew was a surprise after all. Not the total popinjay West had taken him for.
The war made strange bedfellows...brave men from the oddest sources. Uncommon soldiers.
Jim gave the tired Mulgrew a couple of blocks of hardtack and dried beef he had on him and put the letter deep inside his coat and slapped the man on the back. He wheeled his horse around and kicked the stallion into movement.
Jim stayed off the main road, which made his speed sporadic at best when the trees became too dense. Besides he wasn't willing to see his horse go down on a root. But he saw the urgency...and he realized he was directly between the retreating Union soldiers and the crush of rebel troops on both sides. He would stand a better chance meeting up with the commanders of the retreating soldiers and then making his way to Grant then the other way round. If he made straight for Grant then there wouldn't be time to change the course of the battle...just a desperate report and watching a disaster unfold.
Jim barreled into the woods and listened for the guns that marked the running battle. Through the dense woodland Jim heard the soldier before he saw him and when the boy in blue looked up he nearly fell over backwards, narrowly turning his rifle away from the officer on the horse.
Jim almost grinned. The kid was scared but he was quick and wasn't firing at anything that moved.
"Sir!" saluted the soldier raggedly. The kid looked over his shoulder and back at Capt. West. "Sir...iffen you don't mind, you best git off yer horse afore you're blasted offen him!"
Jim smiled this time. "Thanks for your concern soldier. But I'm in a bit of a hurry kid...I may need him. I need to speak to your commanding officer right now. Can you take me to him?"
The boy had already placed himself behind a tree to continue their talk. "I could sir...cept'n he ain't doin' us much good since he's dead and all. All the officers are...leastwise the ones that was with us when the Rebs split us in half." The boy looked up through tired, worried eyes. "Which is why, sir, if you wouldn't mind not makin' yerself a big target, we could sure use your help..." The boy ducked as tree bark exploded next to his head where a minie ball struck the trunk of his hiding place.
Jim felt another ball brush his hair and slid off his horse between the beast and battle and smacked the animal out of the way and joined the impertinent youngster.
"Suddenly your suggestion makes a whole lot of sense." He acknowledged through gritted teeth.
More young soldiers burst from the trees and Jim stood long enough to motion to them. The sight of an officer brought a small cheer from some of the battered yanks. It was heartbreakingly painful to see these kids...some of them not much older then Jim's youngest brother Red...cheering hopefully for Jim.
While Jim had fought bravely in battle...while he had distinguished himself with his skills enough to catch the attention of General Grant, Capt. James West had never commanded.
Now James, by default, was the commander of the New York 33rd regiment.
And as James looked around he could see that the tired kid behind the tree was his second in command. Jim looked the young corporal over. He was a slight fellow with dirty sandy hair that fell into green eyes beneath a blue hat with a hole bisecting it in a way that frightened Jim by just how close that call had been for the lad. Jim imagined that the boy must be stronger then he looked. He couldn't have been taller then 5'3 and was maybe 16 or 17 if he was a day...but looks were deceiving and the fellow's eyes seemed older.
"Corporal...?" addressed Jim.
"Corporal Robert Hendricks...Sir!" responded the youngster crisply.
Jim nodded seriously. "Corporal Hendricks. Give me your report." Jim watched as the wooded clearing filled with men of all sizes and shapes...hunkered behind trees and logs...making breastworks out of rocks and ducking behind them as a hail of gunfire assaulted them.
While Hendricks sat behind his tree and almost casually reloaded, flinching slightly as another shot struck his heavy cover he answered briskly. "Sir...we got abouts 200 fellas, more or less and the Rebs got us out numbered by about half as many more. We're down to about 6 shots each and have been scavenging ammunition from the dead. They seem to be fixin't to drown us in the river."
Jim shook his head. "Nope...they're fixin' to drive you into the fresh troops they have sneeking up behind us FROM the river."
The boy's eyes widened and he whistled. "That ain't good." he laughed. It was a gallows laugh but it was a show of humor that Jim didn't expect from the little fellow.
Jim grinned back.
"Well sir...what will we do? Die fighting the tired ones or die fighting the fresh ones?"
"Which do you prefer?" asked Jim getting into the morbid sense of fun.
"Well sir.." said the young corporal pursing his lips. "I reckon I'd prefer the tired ones comin' at us. I'm gettin' to know some of 'em right personal like, and I would hate to switch partners mid dance."
Jim laughed out loud this time. He liked this kid.
But what to do? Then it dawned on him that their only option WAS to stick with the same dance partner..like Corporal Hendricks suggested.
This may be Jim's first & last command. If he could help it...it would be memorable.
Jim had the corporal send runners down the ragged line and they all gathered in a column shaped like a wedge, instead of a string.
"We're going to do what J.E.B. did in reverse. We are going to break their ranks in half and meet up with the rest of the regiment on the other side." Jim explained to the men and the word was passed down. "Do the men understand all the way down Hendricks?"
"Yes sir. I told them we're gonna plow a straight line...scream at the top of our lungs and run like hell for the other side." Said Hendricks with a sly smile. There was laughing and encouraging shouts along the column. The boy had the heart of veterans far older then he. That was a rare gift. If they made it Jim would see what he could do to see that he got some officer's training.
Jim clapped him on the shoulder. If he was going to command for the first time he could certainly do worse then this brash and game young man. He'd certainly seen enough stupid clods take control when it arose and reverse a well planned battle. Yes...if finding yourself unexpectedly leading men to their deaths, you could do far worse then this all the way around..
Then Jim was suddenly aware that Grant needed to know what was happening...he had to plan the counter attack...he could still bring fresh troops in to take Stuart's Rebs at the river. He reached in his jacket and pulled out the letter. He looked over the men in the column behind him and then he quickly turned to Cpl. Hendricks.
"Corporal. Can you ride a horse?" Jim put his fingers to his lips and let out a shrill whistle. Then turning back to the woods Jim smiled as his horse burst from the woods with a responsive whinny.
"Yes sir, I can." Said the boy staring at the big horse with some trepidation and looking toward where the enemy would emerge soon with boyish disappointment.
Capt. West handed the letter to the boy surprised by how small his dirty, rough hands actually were and he took the boy's rifle and handed him his revolver instead. Then almost tossing him into the saddle he told him. "The General is waiting for this. You are to get this message to him and wait."
The corporal looked ready to argue.
"That's an order kid!" Jim said gruffly.
The boy saluted from the horse. "Yes Sir!" He shouted.
Then Jim smacked the horse's backside and watched the boy lean into the mane and crash into the forest.
Then turning back to his troops Jim called them to attention.
"FIX BAYONETS!" he shouted and the men promptly complied.
Then placing himself at the front of the wedge he held the men back as death crashed in closer...two men fell, and Jim sucked in a breath, but he held them in order until the Rebs were almost within touching distance then he yelled.
"CHARGE!!!"
And the men rushed forward with an earsplitting version of a rebel yell. With their bayonets and musket and minie balls clearing a path they ran...they screamed..shot..stabbed and ran straight and fast as hell. They did what their Corporal told them to do and what their commander led them to do.
The Rebs fought hard...but the fierce plunge straight through their center thinned and parted...with Reb eyes wide and screams from both sides as men fell. But there was no ground to fight for...no prisoners they were looking for...no position the union soldiers were trying to hold. There was no stopping them...they ran straight through cutting a bloody swath and kept going...they didn't complete their charge until they staggered to within shot of the other half of their regiment. The chasing Rebs turned and ran hard for the river. And after Jim's warning the reunited regiment did not follow...they weren't going to fall into Stuart's teeth...they made their way out of the valley and behind Grant's line and they cheered as their replacements charged back into their positions and pushed Stuart back across the river he had sought to trap them against.
Capt. West made his way through crowd's of his congratulatory first command and into Grant's tent.
Saluting smartly and smiling widely he reached out a hand and took Ulysses S. Grant's bear-like grip and shook it warmly.
"I send you out to pick up the mail and you end up in command." Laughed the General. "I'm going to have to keep you on my side...you're trouble."
Jim laughed and looked around and spotted the letter on Grant's field desk. "Well I had a lot of help out there...Corporal Hendricks for one." He picked up the letter. "Where is he? The kid has real leadership skills...he'd make a good junior officer...."
Grant looked puzzled. "He isn't here...he said he wanted to get back to the battle."
Jim felt uneasy. "I ordered him to stay put."
Grant scowled. "He was wounded when he arrived. Bleeding from a shot to the leg. But he was still mobile and he wouldn't let himself checked over. He just turned that horse of yours around and went back into the battle."
Jim wasn't listening he was out of the tent and had commandeered a horse and bolted back into the wooded valley.
Jim could still hear gunshot and cannon fire as the unionists drove back stragglers. As the gunshots softened in the distance Jim peered into the dying day filtering through the trees. "Corporal Hendricks!" he shouted.
He stopped to listen for a response and got none. Then he put his hand to his mouth and whistled for his horse. He paused and did it again...he listened for a time and whistled once more.
With a startled and panicked neighing he heard his horse dive out of the forest and sidle up to his new mount. Jim swung down off his saddle and began to comb the area. He stomped through brush and grumbled. All he knew now was that he wanted to promote Hendricks so he could have the pleasure of demoting him personally for disobeying orders!
Then Jim heard a moan and he called out.
This time he got a faint response. "Over here sir!"
Jim found the boy lying on his side on the other side of a log. He was half covered by a Confederate officer with a hole blown cleanly through him. As Jim rolled the body off Hendricks the boy gasped painfully and Jim winced to see the officer's sword deep in the boy's gut.
Jim pried the officer's hand off the hilt and took off his jacket and he eased the sword out of the wound. The Corporal pulled a lead shot out of his belt and put it in his teeth and closed his eyes and tried not to scream. When the sword came out he spit out the pain bullet and smiled. "Lookie there. I took me a officer's sword!"
Jim grimaced at the lad's continued gallow's humor.
Then Jim set to work undoing the boy's jacket but instead of exhausted relief the boy fought back...he pushed Jim's hands away. Jim looked at him as though he were mad and the young soldier scowled angrily and Jim was surprised to see tears in the brave lad's eyes. But the soldier looked more embarrassed then anything else and Jim assured him.
"Kid...you haven't got anything I haven't seen before."
The boy placed his small hand on Jim's. Jim looked up and the boy's face seemed odd. He was staring earnestly at Jim and his voice was impossibly soft...soft.
There was a weak, pain-filled laugh. "You've probably seen some of these things before...but not on a soldier."
Jim cocked his head curiously and opened the bulky blue jacket and shirt of the wounded corporal apprehensively and then hastily reclosed them. He sat back on his heels and his eyes bugged. Corporal Hendricks was a GIRL!
Jim recovered his composure and leaned in. He opened the coat and shirt slightly and pressed the jacket against the blood welling from the gut wound and the corpor...girl...made a small muffled cry.
Jim stole furtive looks at Hendricks face. How could he have missed it before? He felt really foolish. It isn't as though he hadn't known more then a few young ladies. He'd even heard rumors of girls in disguise who were caught in ranks. But the rumors depicted females of loose morals and weak constitutions. This girl was plain...perhaps even abit homely, and she was strong and smart and dedicated. But this wasn't right. It wasn't right at all! He tended Hendrick's wounds, but he was angry now. When the he finished he looked into the girl's green eyes and just asked. "Why?"
The girl mouthed the question back...she seemed to roll it over her tongue..her brain...looking for the answer, and then she shrugged.
"It weren't like I was getting' any offers or any work that I could help my family live on." She smiled sadly. "I ain't no pretty city girl, just a farm girl with a dead Mama , a sick Poppa, and too many mouthes to feed."
Jim shook his head. "You couldn't have become a housemaid...a washer woman?"
"And make pennies when a soldier with half as much strength as me was makin' dollars?"
"So you did it for money?" Jim sounded disappointed and the girl looked at him sourly.
"I did it cuz I'm a Yankee girl as good enough as to fight for our flag as the next man and as good enough as to git paid for it proper like!" She drew herself up painfully and she cried out. "I been wounded twice in battle before this day and I worked hard and marched hard and I ain't never asked anyone to carry my load or pull my duty! I was a damn fine soldier!"
Then she fell back exhausted and Jim looked at her with distress to see the color drain out of her face. She looked shocked...as though she suddenly realized that her injuries were worse then she thought. She grabbed his arm.
"If I live you will make sure they drum me out?"
Jim nodded.
She swallowed hard. "But you'll not let them call me a whore?"
Jim felt wounded by the suggestion that he might allow that. He shook his head. "I won't let them call you that...ever."
Then her eyes closed slightly. Her voice was a sudden whisper. "Iffen I die...then being a girl or not doesn't matter cuz I died a soldier." Her eyes opened wider again, but it looked like an effort. "Iffen I die...promise me you'll bury me a man...a soldier...and go to my Poppa and let him know how I died and that I weren't no whore and that I took an officer's sword." Her breathing became labored and her words barely a whisper. "Please...please promise."
Capt. James West didn't know what to say. Part of him wanted to protest to Hendricks that she wasn't going to die. But her blood was as obstinate as she was, and refused to stem it's flow.
Part of him knew there was a great chance that he could make sure that she was buried as she requested. During war, bodies weren't checked as closely as they should be. Beyond checking for breath, everyone knew the cause of death...so no one looked. And most soldiers never made it to the ground wearing their Sunday best...most wore the gore splattered uniforms they died in. If James West wrapped her in a saddle blanket then she would have already gotten a better service then many soldiers in the field got.
But if he were caught? Then what?
Could he risk his commission for this girl he had known less then a day, and known as a girl for less then 30 minutes?
The girl was struggling for each breath now and Jim had moved her head onto his lap. Instinctively he cradled her. He held her hand. He had done this with more then a few dying comrades on the field in this war. He had even found a dying friend or two on the other side that he had comforted as they drew their last breaths. Was this any different? In the end we all die alone.
But James West knew the predominant fear of many soldiers who had watched their friends die around them. Most of them didn't want their death to pass unnoticed. Most didn't want to pass unrecognized, and unmourned. Jim squeezed Hendricks' hand.
"I promise."
Hendricks smiled and reached a hand toward a pocket and Jim took the cue and helped her fish a letter out.
"Poppa ain't written much." She exhaled and gasped. "But his address is here. This is where my mustering out pay needs to git to. They need it. It will help."
Jim nodded. "And I won't forget the sword either."
There was a gurgling chuckle and a wheeze. "You make sure my baby brother gits that. You tell him how his sister liberated that there officer of it."
"I'll tell him...I promise."
She nodded and got quiet. For the longest time they didn't speak. Jim wasn't even sure she was still alive. Then her voice stirred the darkening sky.
"I was a good soldier...wasn't I?"
Jim brushed the hair from her dimming eyes. "One of the best." He said quietly. Then she was gone.
Capt. West did as he promised. And more. Jim busied himself through the moonlit night. He washed her face & hands and took her personal effects. A ring, a couple of returned letters, a photo of herself in uniform. He took the blanket roll off his horse and sewed her into the shroud leaving the face visible...the sewing unfinished until the men in her troop could identify "him". Then he cleaned her sword and took the officer's sheath.
Rules of war made it difficult to take this from the fallen fellow officer...but the girl had earned this prize the hard way and as far as Jim was concerned it was hers.
He tied her body to the back of his horse, and he rode into camp, leading the black stallion, just as the dawn was breaking.
The men in the camp had spent the evening before doing much the same that Jim had. Gathering as many of their dead as they could from the field and comforting the dying and tending the wounded. But the tired men of the New York Company gently lifted down the corpse of their Corporal and hats were removed as the men openly wept, in some cases, for the daring young soldier. General Grant left his tent and stood next to Jim and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Sir...I made a promise to Corporal Hendricks sir." He took a deep breath..he had never lied to a commanding officer before. "I promised him that I would see to his burial...and that I would inform his father."
Grant looked down on the pale faced corpse in the shroud.
"Let this boy be buried with full honors. Then take some leave and inform his family. I'm sure they'll appreciate it."
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Thirty days later Major James West was standing in front of a shrunken old man on the dilapidated porch of a farm too big for him to handle.
It was a difficult meeting. Made more difficult by the old man who didn't want to discuss a daughter he felt ashamed of. Jim tried to correct the man about what he considered her wanton attitudes. He managed to learn that her real name was Rose. He wanted to make the man proud of the girl he couldn't understand...that Jim still had difficulty understanding. But the man just took her mustering out pay and went back into his home.
As Jim walked down the dirt path toward his horse a boy with sandy, lank hair and green eyes followed him.
Looking around Jim leaned down in his saddle. "You're Rose's little brother?" he asked with a smile.
"Yup." Spoke the boy of about nine. "You a suitor?" He asked.
Jim grinned awkwardly. "No son...I'm a friend of hers. She asked me to find you and give you some things of hers and have you keep them. To remember her by."
The boy looked down at his bare feet and kicked a stone.
"She done got herself kilt, din't she?"
Jim nodded. "She died a soldier, son...do you want to know what happened?"
The boy nodded. Jim got off his horse and handed the boy the sheathed confederate sword. "Let me tell you about this first...."
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Jim & Artie walked together in the cemetery of Union dead...Artie told stories about some of the soldiers names he recognized and Jim did likewise.
Both of them marveled aloud about the huge numbers of unknown graves. Both marveled at the loss of life.
Then as they approached one small headstone of white Artie read the name.
"Cpl. Robert Hendricks" Artie watched out of the corner of his eye. Jim stared at the stone and chewed his lower lip. "Did you know him?"
Jim nodded and smiled sadly. "Hendricks was a good kid. War makes some of the strangest soldiers.... you know? Hendricks was...an Uncommon Soldier."
Artie felt that that was all he would ever know...so he left his friend to contemplate.
Jim stood for a long time by the small grave. Then he smiled and shook his head in wonder. He didn't think he'd ever figure it all out...but he was guessing maybe someday she'd explain it all to him better.
Standing back, he snapped to attention and saluted. Then turning smartly he caught up to Artie.
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(I'd like to thank Wild Wild West for the Characters of Jim & Artie...and I'd like to thank historical records for brave soldiers like the Corporal in this story. There are more then 400 OFFICIAL records and documentation recording similar soldiers during the civil war. Imagine all the soldiers that were never discovered...imagine all the women who lay in unmarked graves, or under assumed names.
Imagine all the Uncommon Soldiers.)