A Rescued Soul

By Jeff Turner

Northern Vermont, 1918.  A year like no other ushered in by a brutal cold snap for much of New England, cruel winds in subfreezing temperatures imperiling scanty reserves of fuel.  Meanwhile, the Great War raged on and millions of doughboys were answering the call for duty, including droves of underage enlistees.  Even worse, a deadlier enemy reached American shores in the form of the Spanish flu.  The virus struck fast and violently, some victims dying within hours of their first symptoms while others surviving only a few days.  There was no cure.

      During this dark and dangerous time, teenage runaway Henry Cameron finds refuge in Vermont as a stable boy for a retired and war-weary cavalry lieutenant.  As horses bring ambition and purpose into their lives, the two kindred spirits discover how they're more alike than not, and how their broken souls are mending as they forge a bond with each other.  All of this takes time along with the saving grace that only the pure love of horses can provide.  

     For all who have feared, grieved or felt alone, this tale of friendship and hope will pull at the heartstrings and arouse emotions long after the book is finished.  It will burrow into the lives of those cursed by tragedy and help transport them from collapse to resilience, in the process creating acceptance, forgiveness, and peace.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9781662459375

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A Rescued Soul

Jeff Turner

Copyright © 2021 Jeff Turner

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2021

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or deceased, is entirely coincidental.

Cover Photo by ShutterStock ©

Graphic Design by Julianna Wasniewski Cameron

ISBN 978-1-6624-5936-8 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-5937-5 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Northern Vermont, 1918

A Year Earlier

The Godmother

Three Fine Horses

My Kingdom for a Horse

Go West, Young Man

Comes a Horseman

Boots and Saddles

The Ties That Bind

Amid the Fresh Falling Snow

The Secrets We Keep

’Tis the Season

The Big Freeze

Casualties of War

Whispering Cornfields

Assemblage At Camp Dewey

Diving Horses Redux

I Can See Clearly Now

Joven Pistolero

In the Still of the Night

Hello, It’s Me

Last Man Standing

Bad Moon Rising

Never Can Say Goodbye

See You Again

For Mindy

Also By Jeff Turner

The Way Back (2013)

The Hero of Willow Creek (2015)

Lost Boys of the River Camp (2017)

The Choices He Made (2019)

Northern Vermont, 1918

The two of them sat side by side on the towering barn roof—the lieutenant and the teenager—resting their backs against the weather beaten cupola, swigging water from dented army canteens. They’d set their tools aside while taking a much-needed break, letting the late afternoon sun warm their faces and soothe their tired bones.

They’d been working steadily on the sagging and bedraggled barn since early April, repairing wind, rain and snow damage as well as roof deterioration resulting from years of neglect. Now into the month of June, they’d replaced broken windows and flooring, restored damaged roofing and cracked rafters, rebuilt stalls, sealed leaks, eliminated mold, and removed pests and assorted vermin from the iconic barn. They were pleased with their efforts, a once daunting challenge taxing their physical capacities but never dampening their spirit or draining their resolve. While the two were exhausted, the completion was near and the rewards great.

Almost at the finish line, pronounced the teenager, a brown-haired, handsome youth of about fifteen years, a young man on the cusp of adulthood armed with wide-eyed anticipation coupled with a good natured, agreeable personality. He mopped the sweat from his brow with his shirt sleeve and squinted skyward. I’m glad we hit a stretch of good spring weather to help us, he remarked.

We’ve been lucky, replied the lieutenant, standing up and stretching his back, placing his hands on his hips while balancing himself on the roof line. The lieutenant was in his mid-forties, a former cavalry officer who stood just over six feet and owned a confident, commanding presence. He had broad shoulders, wore his straw colored hair short, and had piercing blue eyes. Let’s hope it lasts, he said. We get crazy weather up here this time of year. One day it’s bright and sunny, the next day it’s wet and raw. Throw in some sleet and snow and you’ve got spring time in Vermont.

The lieutenant bent over at the waist and used his hands to brush sawdust from his hair. It’s not like the Southwest where the temperature goes from hot to hotter and your jaw aches during the day because your teeth have been chattering all night. He shook his head, muttering to himself. I’ll tell you, the weather down there made my soldiers miserable even before we saddled up in the morning.

The lieutenant reached over to retrieve his rucksack and pulled out two apples and handed one to the teenager before taking one for himself and sitting back down. The two of them sat in silence for a long moment, getting their wind back while taking in the property in front of them: a rambling farmhouse, a stone caretaker’s cottage, three separate seasonal cabins, and a spacious garage for a brigade of farm vehicles and equipment. As far as property was concerned, they laid eyes on the outline of cornfields and various vegetable gardens, a couple of large corrals, several paddocks, and trails snaking their way through surrounding forests. A stone wall dividing one portion of the property ran atop a gentle hillside that sloped down toward a shimmering, spring-fed pond. In back of it was the farm’s apple orchard, stretching as far as the eye could see. The size of the farm was as arresting as it was appealing. Combined, it occupied over fifty acres.

The two were in no rush to get back to work. It was quiet around them and each was comfortable with the hush. There was no wind and the trees stood still. No mechanical sounds lifted into the air from the garage nor from the horses grazing not too far from in the pasture.

Out of the blue the lieutenant leaned forward and spoke up, almost startling the teenager. "As a rambunctious little squirt," he said, "I remember climbing up here when my parents weren’t looking and just sitting like we are now, enjoying the view. He took a swig from his canteen. Of course, I didn’t know what I was looking at and probably hid up here to avoid any kind of work detail my parents had planned for me." He dropped his chin to his chest and laughed softly, making the teenager smile.

The teenager squinted at the lieutenant. Weren’t you afraid of falling down and rolling off the roof? he asked, skirting his eyes to the ground below. I mean, it’s quite a drop. This barn must stand at least thirty feet tall.

Thirty-five to be exact.

And you never got afraid climbing up here?

Maybe once or twice when I was learning how to piss over the edge.

The teenager’s eyes widened, then a smile deepened into laughter. Come on, you’re joking, right?

Well, I didn’t do that until I was older, and only then did I do it after a dare from a friend.

They chuckled together, the teenager shaking his head. Henry imagined a younger version of the lieutenant testing the unchartered waters of independence, fearlessness, and courage. The barn and its rooftop would’ve been the place to do it, a playground for the daring and the brave, probably the foolhardy and harebrained.

You laugh at me, but I’m willing to bet you had your own daring deeds, the lieutenant stated.

Maybe, said the teenager with a lopsided grin.

The lieutenant nudged him and said, Come on, Henry, you know most kids pull pranks bordering on recklessness. He paused. Who knows? Maybe you still do.

Well… Henry hemmed and hawed, bunching his shoulders and fidgeting, now squirming to get off the hot seat.

The lieutenant pushed a little more. Don’t tell me you’re fresh as the new fallen snow, never foolhardy or out of line. He paused and shook his head. I don’t buy it.

Henry fell silent, hoping the lieutenant would relent, but the guy was dogged.

Nothing perilous, not even at the cadet camp last summer? asked the lieutenant. The cadet camp was where the two of them first met.

Henry finally buckled. Okay, there was a time when Mickey, Curt, and I did something we shouldn’t have, something really idiotic. At the time the three were tentmates in the same cadet company.

The lieutenant arched his eyebrows. Go ahead, I’m listening, he said.

Last summer we swam out to the camp’s raft after dinner, hid behind it for a while, then when no one was looking decided to swim across the river.

All the way over to Ledyard? You swam from Uncasville to Ledyard, all the way across the Thames river?

Henry nodded.

"Madre de Dios. The lieutenant gave a low, long whistle of surprise. Now that’s impressive, he said, but stupid. You never told anyone you were going to do this?"

Henry shook his head.

And then the three of you swam all the way back?

Henry sighed deeply, then rubbed the back of his neck. That’s when our plans fell apart, I mean things really went south.

What happened?

You didn’t hear about any of this from the other officers?

The lieutenant shook his head.

Honest? asked Henry.

Not a word was ever spoken, you have my word, he replied, then nodded at Henry. Go on.

Well, we’d made it about halfway back when Mickey got a bad leg cramp, which made him fall behind. I heard him yell for help and I doubled back to help him.

He panicked, said the lieutenant.

Yes sir, he panicked. I tried my best to calm him so that we could swim together, but he resisted and began pulling me under.

Henry drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Finally, Curt came to our rescue and saved us both.

What did he do? asked the lieutenant.

He knocked Mickey out with a clean punch to his jaw, Henry said. He then put Mickey on his back and held his two arms. I hooked my arm around Curt’s arm and we kicked our way back to shore, the river’s current pushing us along. We eventually made it to the Yale boathouse in Gales Ferry.

Henry took a deep breath and exhaled nosily.

You got help at the boathouse? asked the lieutenant. And Mickey was okay?

Henry nodded. We got help and Mickey was okay. Someone at the boathouse called the camp and my uncle came to get us. When we got back he made sure that he belittled, threatened, and humiliated us.

Did anything happen to the three of you?

Henry slowly shook his head.

A few moments passed.

Henry broke the silence. So there you have it, lieutenant, my one daring and idiotic descent into recklessness. What do you think? Does that put me right up there with taking a leak from the top of this roof?

They looked at each other and laughed.

A dog barked from far away and was joined by another. In the distance a trail of gray smoke curled upwards from the farmhouse chimney. It was nearing dinner time.

The lieutenant was quiet for several long minutes. He then looked Henry square in the eye. Why didn’t you tell me any of this? he asked.

Henry hesitated. I didn’t want you to think less of me. I told you from the very beginning, I’m a good kid and that I would prove it. What the three of us did that night was stupid.

Well, don’t be too hard on yourself. He paused and smiled. I do remember, though, you telling me that you were a good kid.

What we did was wrong and risky. I regret it.

The lieutenant punched him playfully in the arm. Let’s forget about the swim across the Thames river. I’m glad you’re here and my opinion of you hasn’t wavered. At Camp Dewey you stood out from the whole garrison of cadets, and we make a good team here at the farm.

The lieutenant stirred and got to his feet, the teenager following his lead. We’ve got just enough time to put the tools away. We’ll finish up tomorrow. He looked over at Henry. You okay? he asked.

Ready and able, came the reply.

They grabbed their tools and then carefully watched their step to avoid slipping or tripping. They made their way to the extension ladder on the side of the barn, then worked their way down to ground level.

As they ambled toward the farmhouse, the teenager stopped and pointed skyward. Look, lieutenant, a bald eagle, he exclaimed, watching it as it circled.

The lieutenant barely gave it a glance. That one’s got quite a wingspan, he said.

It must be at least five feet across.

I’d say all of that, replied the lieutenant, walking past the teenager. He paused then said, Too bad it’s a chicken hawk, laughing out loud and shaking his head. Over his shoulder he cracked, "El chico de la ciudad está perdido otra vez."

I heard that lieutenant, spiked the teenager. "I know you like slipping some Spanish into our conversations now and then just to keep me on my toes. I know what you just said, ‘The city boy is lost again.’ Am I right? I’m right, I know I am. I’m on to you, teniente."

That got them both laughing.

The two of them got to know each other last year at Camp Dewey, a civilian-backed Junior Naval Reserve installation located in Uncasville, Connecticut. The innovative river camp was the first of its kind and sought to prepare youths between the ages ten and seventeen for service in the navy or merchant marine. Youngsters were taught the lore and lure of the sea along with a heavy dose of military training: rifle practice, artillery drills, saber tactics, marches and bivouacs, and battle formations.

Fifteen year-old Henry Cameron and lieutenant Tom Cooper hit it off at Camp Dewey almost immediately. The lieutenant soon learned that Henry was a cadet who paid attention, followed directions, and spoke respectfully while learning the rigors and ropes of military life. But in the midst of the camp’s training program, Cooper also learned that the youngster from Boston was beset by an inordinate amount of family turmoil and tragedy, including humiliation from a faithless and lascivious mother and physical abuse at the hands of a cruel and twisted uncle. To make matters worse, Henry’s father, a sailor aboard an oil tanker, had just drowned at sea when his ship was torpedoed and sunk by a German submarine.

Henry Cameron, in turn, got to learn much about Tom Cooper. He ran away from the home in which he now lived when he was fifteen and after obtaining a forged birth certificate, joined the United States cavalry in 1895. He served on active duty between 1895-1917 and was promoted to the rank of lieutenant on the basis of his leadership skills and military accomplishments. In 1916, he saw considerable action with the eleventh cavalry as it chased the outlaw Pancho Villa in Mexico, although the bandit was never caught. Cooper retired from active duty in 1917 and arrived at Camp Dewey as a weapons instructor that same year.

Cadet schooling at Camp Dewey in 1917 played out against the backdrop of the United States entering World War I. Although underage, older cadets at the camp talked incessantly about the prospects of enlisting in the armed forces underage and joining the fight ‘Over There.’ A number snuck away to enlist, even though they were still enrolled in the camp. They wanted to personally wage war against Kaiser Wilhelm and help bring his army to its knees. Moreover, they encouraged fellow cadets to do the same. Emboldened by their military training at the cadet camp, the cadets were inspired to protect democracy and liberty. Loyalty to one’s friends meant fighting alongside them in the ‘War to End All Wars.’

Under the command of General John J. Pershing, more than two million American soldiers answered the call to duty and fought on battlefields in France. Infantry from the United States would eventually merge with the Allies’ great offensive front to end the horrific war in Europe and bring peace. Thousands of underage teenagers lied about their age and were willfully accepted into the service.

Henry Cameron and his bunkmates listened with rapt attention as the camp chatter about enlisting trickled down to their division. While all of them were just fifteen years-old, they heard the call to duty for home and country. When Henry lost his father at sea, he knew his fate was sealed and that revenge and reprisal had been pushed to the forefront. It was time to join the fight.

But lieutenant Cooper thought otherwise. Henry and the lieutenant spent quite a bit of time talking about the war and Henry’s possible enlistment in the infantry. The lieutenant was blunt about the glorified, gallant images of soldiering, discrediting the notion of it being an adventurous, exciting crusade. He spared no detail describing the horrid living conditions of the infantry and the risk of infection from the surrounding filth and squalor. He told of the poorly constructed trenches and the devastating killing fields. He shared with Henry how the trenches filled with mud, standing water, blood, rats, decomposing bodies, and lots of other putrid details. He warned that the stench of death would be everywhere.

Even worse, the lieutenant spoke of how Henry would be regularly targeted by enemy snipers and machine gunners, and bombarded by heavy artillery. He told Henry about poison gas attacks, and how he would hear and see incessant screaming and suffering everywhere. He would often be called upon to bury pieces of his fallen comrades instead of whole bodies.

Cooper tried his very best to break Henry’s determination to enlist. He told the teenager that he was way too young, too inexperienced and too untried. While the lieutenant acknowledged that Henry indeed looked older than most fifteen year-olds and likely wouldn’t be turned down at most enlistment stations, it wasn’t his time to sling a rifle over his shoulder and go to war. That would come later, although Cooper hoped it never would.

When Henry reminded the lieutenant that he, too, had left home at an early age to enlist in the cavalry, Cooper could only shake his head. The teenager was right, but the lieutenant replied that his actions played out in a different era, not one where millions had already lost their lives in gruesome, horrific ways.

After that, they reached a stalemate.

A while later, the lieutenant reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved a slip of paper. On it was the lieutenant’s address in Vermont. Cooper said that he owned a large farmhouse with rooms to spare should Henry change his mind. In need of farm hands to restore his property, Cooper also offered Henry a full-time job.

Henry was appreciative of the lieutenant’s offer and had much to mull over, including the scheme to enlist with his friends. The group planned how they were going to leave Camp Dewey at summer’s end, wait a few weeks while everyone tidied up business on the home front, then meet in Bridgeport, Connecticut, a city where recruiting stations supposedly were lax and often indifferent with screening procedures. Falsified birth certificates would be waiting.

When the day of reckoning arrived, all of the underage cadets except Henry gathered in Bridgeport. The group watched and waited for Henry to show for the better part of the day, but all for naught. Given the secrecy of their departure, they didn’t know how to reach out and contact Henry. The group therefore decided to go full throttle and push their plan into action. They were hungry for adventure and excitement on the front lines and wanted to be a part of making history, not reading about it. The next morning they were all successful in enlisting.

Meanwhile, Henry had decided not to join his friends in Bridgeport that day or any other day. Rather, he decided to take lieutenant Cooper up on his offer and rode the rails to Cooper’s Vermont farm. The lives of the two became intertwined over time and the farm provided a safe haven for both, one that offered safety and security, a stark contrast to other families ripped apart by the ravages of the Great War. They watched as families staggered from the tragedy of loss, not only from those killed on the battlefield, but those returning home wounded or disabled.

However, it wouldn’t be long before a second, more deadly enemy had America in its crosshairs.

The 1918 Spanish Flu became a cataclysm of staggering proportion and erupted without warning, unleashing the horrors of hell around the globe. The 1918 pandemic would infect 500 million people worldwide and kill an estimated fifty million, a total amounting to more than all of the soldiers and civilians killed during the Great War. The disease would kill about 675,000 in the United States.

And so it was that the war-weary horse soldier and the emotionally scarred teenager drowning in self-doubt managed to isolate themselves from a major war but couldn’t sidestep a disease that began a world away. On the contrary, the killer virus managed to creep across their very doorstep. The disease would come to control even the most routine aspects of their lives, in the process tilting their world sideways and clouding any visions they had for the future.

This is their story…

A Year Earlier

Henry Cameron arrived at lieutenant Tom Cooper’s Vermont farmhouse on September, 1917. It was close to midnight when he arrived and there were no lights on inside, Henry hoping someone would be home. He knocked on the door, stuck his hands in his pockets and waited. To his relief, he heard footsteps from inside, then a dim, overhead porch light was switched on. The door opened and Cooper appeared.

A few seconds passed.

The lieutenant cocked his head and flashed a hint of a smile. What took you so long? he asked. His eyes looked heavy with sleep. He rubbed at them, yawning.

Henry shuffled his feet and shifted his weight back and forth. He coughed nervously. When he finally spoke, his head was slightly bowed, his voice soft and tentative. Lost, he mumbled. I guess you could say I got lost.

The lieutenant nodded. That happens, he said, leaving it at that.

Henry looked up and smiled in a humble, innocent way, eyes full of hope and promise.

You still got room for me in there, lieutenant?

The lieutenant stepped outside to the stoop, extended his hand to Henry, then embraced him. Of course I’ve got room for you. Get that duffel bag of yours and come in out of the cold.

Henry hoisted the duffel bag over his shoulder and carried it into a large living room, where he leaned it against a nearby wall. The living room, which connected to an equally large kitchen, was dark and empty. A large fireplace stood in the center of the living room, the fire long since extinguished but the smell of charred wood still hanging in the air.

They sat for a moment in easy chairs, facing each other. Henry looked around and was impressed by what he saw. Nice place, lieutenant. Big home.

Got lots of space here. Two stories, six bedrooms, one of the few houses up here hooked up to electricity, indoor plumbing and telephone service. How ‘bout that. But the old homestead has gotten run down over the past few years, I mean it’s really showing wear and tear, but we’re going to repair and restore it. He paused and rubbed sleep from his eyes. Hell, that’s why you’re here Henry, to pitch in with the renovation.

Henry nodded and stretched out his legs. He was exhausted, both emotionally and physically. It had been a long day.

You okay? asked the lieutenant.

Henry nodded.

Tired?

A bit, sir.

Hungry?

No sir, I’m fine, replied Henry. He lied.

When was the last time you ate?

Henry said, I had lunch in the mess hall around noon.

The lieutenant studied him for a long minute, then stood while gesturing for him to follow. He switched on the kitchen light and directed Henry to sit in one of the straight-back chairs surrounding a long, polished oak table.

We had turkey last night with all the fixings, he declared. I can round you up a plate of leftovers or if you prefer, make you a sandwich or two.

A sandwich sounds good, replied Henry.

Cooper prepared two thick turkey sandwiches for him along with a tall glass of milk plus a wedge of apple pie. The lieutenant poured himself a glass of what appeared to be apple cider, then sat back down.

Henry didn’t waste any time digging in. He tore into his food like he hadn’t eaten in days and when he was finished he pushed the plate away and slouched back in the chair. The turkey was delicious and the pie even better. He no longer felt depleted; indeed, he could feel his energy level being restored.

Thank you, lieutenant, he said. I guess I was hungry.

You’re welcome, the lieutenant replied as he drank some cider.

Henry finished his glass of milk and wiped away the white mustache it left. You made a turkey dinner, lieutenant? Baked a pie? I have a hard time picturing that, let alone believing it. He grinned at him.

You questioning my honesty already? The lieutenant slowly shook his head back and forth. Actually the dinner was prepared by Julia Dawson. Julia and her husband Carl are the caretakers of the farmhouse and property. They’ve been looking after things since I’ve been away.

Do they live here?

They did until I returned home. They live now in a stone caretaker’s cottage not too far from the farmhouse. Plus they’ve kept their original home in town. They go back and forth many times.

The lieutenant cleared his throat. I’m happy you’ve chosen to come here, Henry, and even happier that you didn’t enlist in the army. You worried me. Now what about Mickey and Curt? The two were fellow cadets under his command at the camp.

As far as I know they both enlisted in Bridgeport along with a few other cadets.

They’re too young to be going to war.

They couldn’t be talked out of it. Their minds were set. I tried.

Did you tell them you wouldn’t be joining them?

No, I didn’t. Right up until the last minute my plans were to join them. I was packed for war at the train station but at the last minute changed my mind and headed north.

The lieutenant didn’t say anything. Instead he just nodded, taking it all in.

They grew silent.

After a while the lieutenant said, Tell me about the camp. How were things after I left?

Henry smiled. Well, you were the talk of the place for quite a while. People were still buzzing about your knockout punch of the captain and how you then tossed him into the Thames river. Some wanted to know if you’re a professional fighter. The others wanted to know if you can someday teach them how to box in the ring, or shoot a pistol, especially a .45.

The two of them looked at each other and just smiled.

Did you stay at the camp very long after it closed? asked the lieutenant.

I stayed for a few weeks. I was offered a job by major Physioc helping the staff button things up for the winter, stuff like folding tents and packing up equipment. Henry hesitated. I really didn’t want to go home. I ended up spending a lot of time with Hudson Delaney. He was very kind to me.

The lieutenant grinned. Hudson’s a good man. He’ll be joining us in a while and staying with us to help with the chores.

Henry shifted his weight a bit and said, He spoke highly of you, said you were a fine cavalry officer. Said the men under your command would follow you anywhere.

The lieutenant rubbed his face with both hands then ran his fingers