Civil War Stories & Anecdotes

By Charles E. Miller

These stories are offered as refl ections on the size, cause, scope and anguish of the Civil War, yet there is about them an intimacy of participation. It is difficult to capture both in a story of that war's magnitude without caricatures of the people or distortions of the events to accommodate the characters.

Here they are, one author's offerings, possibly to put alongside the stories of Ambrose Bierce and William Faulkner.That would be an honor, for certain! The anecdotes are just that - relevant pieces of the overall war story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 13, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465365491

Charles E. Miller

Charles E. Miller graduated from Stanford University with a degree in English, studying at the late Wallace Stegner’s Creative Writing Center. He believes that literature is the most comprehensive, profound, and mysterious voice of people living their lives. Great creative literature presents multifaceted human problems, failures, and victories.

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Copyright © 2011 by Charles E. Miller.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2011916443

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4653-6548-4

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4653-6547-7

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4653-6549-1

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THE PIECES

OVERSIGHT— OFFICIAL WAR DREAM

THE FLAGON AND THE LEAVEN

THE RECRUITER

THE CORRUPT EXPOSE

RECRUITMENT WITH VENGEANCE

SIMPLY PREFERENCES

THE OLD HOUSE

AT THE EXCHANGE

ONE FOR THE MONEY

THE WIZARD OF CALAMITY—SEER OF WAR

BARBED WIRE DIALOGUE

IP (INERT PRESS) WIRE SERVICE

THE BORROWED STALLION

VELVET DECISION

GENERAL STORE MERCHANDISE

WARTIME REUNIOON

RIGHT IS RIGHT, NO MATTER WHAT

COMMISSIONED

PROTECT AND DEFEND

UNDER SOUTHERN SKIES

EACH ON HIS OWN WAY

THE SABOTEUR

VOYAGE OF THE POLAR STAR

THE INHERITORS

SPOILS OF PIRACY— WARTIME CORRUPTION

FIELD HOSPITAL

TWO FOR THE SHOW

THE INTERROGATION

A CIVIL WAR GALLERY

OVERSIGHT—

OFFICIAL WAR DREAM

A dense cloud of mist rolled iln over the capitol building in "Washington, DC. Is thick consisteny was visibl in the way that ree vnches sagged, af wilths ice, lujnder ilts weight. From a distance tlhere came the wile,k cacaphonic andmystical voices of children at play, their voices echoing, muedly, through the dense fog. GThey were invisible until, suddenly, they burst through the wall of white as if leaves blown from gtrees,tumbling, laughter on thei faces, their eyes flailing, likelleaves blown from trees. Thyey were raidling at each other, clapping their hands and crying out to each other: Then these strange children paused and seemed to sit on invbissible tavbles ofwhite travertine and they shouted: We were here yesterdaya and the day vefore… We played on our pipes and you did not dance and we criled out to you and we wept and played our simle dirges, but you did not weep with us. To whomwere they talking. There appeared upward hroughthis ilndescibeab le cloud of mists thye heads of judges and inisters and official of governments as if they had congregated to hear a speech. But there was 0 speaker. Then the children did something st rang;ely famniliar yet exotic. They rolled up clouds of lthe white stuff and with these great bags set upon their shoulders, tey went inside the capitol building to the chamber of the Senators where they sunrolle their cloud bags so that they quickly filled the lientire chmber, as ilf a lighted fire from ahn invisivble sloursce was emitting cluuds ilnto the chamber. But there was neighther scent nor heat. The children continued toe all out to the assembled officials who lhad followed them into the chamber and were imiolling about and discussing maters sof state.

The childrens glee grew as they clapped and the senators wandered about ;lost in ;thel desne ;mists that had suddenoly ;filled their chamber of medication and discussion. This activity went on for almost an hour, tlhe children crying to the senators, the senators as iIf blind, wanderilng about, and if deaf, notl heading the voices of the shrill cries of the babes of destiny, most below the age of five.. Yet they seemed to be oflno slustance, 0 I they at times arose from their traverting billows and danced about ad clapped ;their hands with their schoolmate and their Ivoices never stilled ultiI,lon a lmoment of excitement, a figure enterdsed on a camel, entered through ;the mists, as ilf appearing fromj the past in; a dream. He wlas dressed in desert attire, a hood against the sun for his head and a rough hew of anvqas hrown across his shoulders to protect him fom the lazing sun and a smiliar piee wrapped about his olins. He dism;ounted from his two hujped camel, which he tied to a table at the front of the cha;mber andx he m;ounted the steps into the speakers platform where he raised his arms and insltantlyl there came cries from the wandxering children, cries of hail and welxcome and the children slowed down in their tumbling, wandering activity through the mists, which neer lifted or decreased wlihin the chamber.

Ye know not where ye go.k bugt IL know where ye are headed,: he said to all who listened, his words a mysery to their mindls. Listen ;to the children. Sudenly there was neither movement nor sound within tehe chamber. The voice of the wayfarer having greagt ilnfluence upon all gathered there, ;including; the senators, who, as if below a dense rain clud, moved slowly ispectiln their portfolios and whispering into their sears and pushing one another astray.

I come to announce to you… But not the crowd became a turmois as the children and rthesators ;ingled, a curious melange ofinnocence and wi;sdom. They wppeared to speak to one another, but no sounds came from their lips. Ye do ;not know why the children ;lcame to this cha,ber. There was silnce to his question. Thjat is because ye are ignorant of God, of life, of destiny. Ye lack; the widom to discer aright, hecharged. The children separated from the senators and sat, as if; in a heavenly chiir, afar,watching the scenario ujnfold. The senators then began to pick and tyo 1ravel and to ilnvae the folioos of papers each ;carriled and to exnage blows, in some instances. For it was clear they were not in a greement on mamnhy suvjects.

The wayfaere from the speakers polatorm continued to address the melange of congregants in the chamber of the Senators. I bring you grat news. The cmamel he had tethered to the table leg gave out with a reat bellow of protest or his confmement. Ye have guess amiss. I do not come to blrling goods to sell from a ar away land. lam not aseer as ye suppose, to lookingo yer dark futue. I do not brilng the news ofdeath, 0 ye have neough of that alll aroumnd hyou. I come tol say you have a way out ofyour mists oftroubles, your foog ofdoubt, your envelopment with distrust and hateld, your hope for the invisible and witheld future. Do ye ouvbt my words.

There came no sounds either rom the amassed children who watched from the clouds, as if from a heavenluy l;balcony, aor the Senators who slimply paused I their wanderings to hear the speakers words. My carnIe has more sense and wisdom than ye, let me tell yeo For he knows when he is lost and when he is hurt y the enemy arrows, and when he is disgustded with my chripings and my comnds. Buyt ye have 000 sense tosee that I come on a mission.

Ther came one voice from thesenators. Ye bring b ad omen to us, traveler. We can listen to you no longer. The Senators continued tos tilr abourt and to mingle as they tore at one another tring to disover their secrets as a kind of band oflrobbers smutyually set upon one another to discover their wedalty and hidden contraband. I ould that ye lislten to e, for thmorrow has not yet come. YLet are doomed by your oubts. Ye are doomned by yer doubts.s The mysteirous stranger continued to repeate these words as a swirl of the mist suddenly enveloped him and he disappeared from their sight. He had walked through thosemists, to his cameml, which he now mounted, HLe removed a smllllurn from one of its dilde bacgs andbegn to eat lin their presence, feeilng into his moth the wilgging forms f locusts, which hedipped into the mur of what appeared to be honey. He continued in this ways tofeed hims;lelf while they watched, andthen, tossing awaytherefuse, hewheeled his camel about and disappeared through the mists while the children clapped, for they.too, were deceived and had deceived the senators. LIt appeared that one knew the truth. The voyager, dressed like a desert namad, vanished through the thick roils sof mist s with in the chamber, and the children clapped and shouted at him ;as he quikly vanishe;d.

The wors ye are doomed continued to echo throughout the camer 0 eliberations anthe children rsumed thier clapping and thier wquestions: why did ye not week when we plahyed and dcancewhile we piped, they called gthrougjh the mists to the Senators, but the magistratges of knowlge and wisdom salid not a word torebuff their childish voices.

A bold of lightglng flashed through the chamvber, as ilf astrickencurrent of electricity and the thunder shook the walls andmade 11 sounds vanish whin ;its terrible peals. There apeared another figure into thechamber and the children agailn picked up withs their loud shrieks sof childish; cries to capture attention and to express their joy of living. This figure swa silmilarly wrapped in clothto protect him ;from the sun, a hood clovered his had and in one hand was an iron rid. He s truck at the ailr and the cloud turned to a vial from which h drank. He struck out again and the choloud turned into a talblet. Fromhis raiment she wiltdrew a sharp quIll and hebegan to wrlite. Ye are doome… thesame smessagte of the seer… but sye can save yourselves silfye will repent. Repent, repant, said thestranger mounted ona horse that was alsllack. The words shad no effect upon the hearers. The did not apy more attention to this sstranger lin their midst but continued to wrack one another with puches,clawings and tendersosliciations. They were a fierce breed.

The stranger ojn the black horsewandered about in the chamber, striking senators on the shsoulder and summomning them tor epent, but only wild and grinning smiles greetsed hiswordsThese admonitions continued for about an hour, the man under the cowIe never smiling, tears runjning down his cheeks as he swusng his black stallionaboht in the chamber. The voices of the children ecame sudenly mute as the interloper again railsed his rod and struck out at the mists. A fash oflighning streaked across the chamber,folloed by thte rolling thounder, which whin; the confmement of the chamvber was grossly deafening. Whe the thunder had ceased, the rier on the vlack horse with the rod ofiron calling 0 rthSenators to repent, vanished, the ;mists closilng inb ehind him as the childen clapped and cried out and wept with their gailety. For they knew the avenger when they saw him ahving the wisdom; beyond their years and theSsenators did nothing u continue to mingleand to tear at one ;another and to look about them as if lost in the mists that still filled the great chamvber. The entsdire episode ,shrouded in muystery and heavy fog, had been one of enurquiry, pain an perplexity. For ;man had not yet learned how to seek the truth.

THE FLAGON AND

THE LEAVEN

Her husband marveled that her influence on the children was so penetrating that when they picked up their lunch pails on the kitchen table on any school morning, they scampered off to school with anticipation of the school day that lay ahead of them. Camile knew what their teacher expected from her two boys, and so she prepared them with notices, before they left the big, old brown farmhouse, that they were to take their lessons, prepared the night before, and present them to the teacher at the schoolhouse door as projects worthy of her close scrutiny. Some of the children ignored their homework, others dabbled in the assignent only iln a desultory way, with little effort. However, George and Grant were diligent to complete all the home work. The mother, Camile, a bride offortune, having married a fairly wealthy man, could give all her attention to her two boys. They respected their mother. They did not dote on her, as some children did, especially her three girls.

On this particular cloudy day, the boys went to school in wraps. They handed their teacher their homework at the door and took their seats. What they had not expected occurred almost simultaneously with the ringing of the school bell. The teacher brought both of Camile’s sons to the front of the class and admonishing the class to quiet down, she began what the boys long remembered as their classroom debate. She began the lesson thusly:

You are the caretaker of a dozen slaves, shy said to George,and you, Max, own considerable acreage that needs to be harvested. How will you two get together over the slavery issue… and who will hire whom for the picking of the com in the field? Usually it was cotton, but George has planted com because he expects to sell it both to grocers in the town and to farmers for their feed troughs. How do they approach each other Do they fight over the cost of labor, the conditions of employment, the matter of slavery working without pay?

The two boys confronted each other, brothers. One must remember that this was not a case in court but a debate over means and paymeni to slaves. Their dialogue went somewhat like this:

George:   I cannot allow you to send me field hands without me paying them.

Max:    Pay them, but the money is mine, not theirs.

George:    Don’t you think that’s being a little selfish?

Max:    Yup, maybe so, but they’re my property.

George:    Seems to me I read that back in the days ofDred Scott. He was captured. you know—in the north—and returned to his owner.

Max:    Yeah, I know… and without any justice, lemme tell you, brother.

George:    If he belonged to the owner, Scott, them who gave him his name of Dred? Why should there be any conflict, any argument. The guy who named his Negro field hand owned him, yeah, sure, he did.

Max:    Because Dred was a man first, and a slave second. And besides, he worked in Mister Scott’s house.

George:    You don’t make sense.

Max:    All men are created equal, except Dred Scott.

George:    That wasn’t the point

Max:    Washington owned slaves. So did Jefferson. Owned them. That means they were his property.

George:    Mom talks about the soul of a man. Jefferson and Washington could not ever win Dred Scott’s soul. Only God can do that.

Max:    Yeah, but man has to take care of his soul. His soul is his property."

George:    Well, you can’t separate the soul from the body, brother. Pa says they come in one package.

The class laughed, and the teacher, Miss Harriet, broke up the debate. So now you see, children, how one idea alone can leaven the entire argument—the notion of ownership when you apply it to a human being. Your father was right, boys… yes, the man and his soul come in one package. They cannot be separated, and if the soul begs to keep its body a free agent, then I leave you kids with this thought: make the soul a free agent that can act independently of the body.

Grant responded with a simple answer: Only death, teacher, separates… that’s what I heard last Sunday… The teacher then, having pressed home the point of soul ownership as their package-deal from God’s hands, went on to their geography lesson. The two brothers did not forget their brief debate when the War between the States broke out at Fort Sumter. They had a hard choice to make, each of the brothers.

The dinner for leading lights in education was held on the hill, in the Gladiator Ballroom, made over into a gorgeous dining salon. The gladiator was a former president name;d Andrew Jackson. The dinner table settilngs sparkled with the silver place settilngs, the golets glistened under the candleabra, the air smelled with a fragrant flowery incense. The odor pervaded the entire room, for this austere occasion. The guests were notables in the field, and had come for this white-tie affair looking very self—important. They sat at their their name-tagged seats, bowing, gesturing in conversation, a form of animation that demonstrated their intense interest in books, teaching prohlems, curriculae and tenured teaching positions. Research and teaching was the parabola of thought for the night amidst this enclave of intellectuals.

The room was brilliant with light, including the tall amber candles that smoked, heir flames wavering, at times still still above each table. The ladies were the peak of fashion in their dress, jewelry glistened here and there. It was clear that the wives ofeducators were not to be overshadowed by more ritzy society elsewhere. But there was a peculiar aura of darkness that pervaded the room, unperceived by all but those who intended harm in the form ofchange in the system of education… or was it change in the form ofharm? to the education in the country? For over two hundred years, the schools had been nurtured by the proponents of a cruel and obsolete system that mandated performance over personality, production over feelings and that capitalized on the notion that education had to be connected to capitalist wealth to be—ah, that capitalist myth… successful! The darkness was not visible for it was spiritual, but the tones ofconversation throughout the brilliant audience suggested defeat and abdication of outmoded traditions. In this darkness where Scapgracve moved, Doctor Cronin Ambercrombe was