Ludlow was awakened by a loud banging on the front door of his quarters. He glanced at his bedroom window and could see nothing but darkness beyond the thin curtain. The thunderous pounding burst out again, this time lasting longer. The young officer dragged himself out of bed and went out to the small parlor.
“Who is it?”
“Mr. Dooley!” came Captain Mack Hawkins’ voice. “Are you going to sleep all day?”
Ludlow opened the door, and the captain stepped in. “Good morning!” he said brightly.
Ludlow grumbled, “What time is it?”
“A quarter to five,” Hawkins replied, holding up a packet. “Look at this. Orders, Mr. Dooley! I received it at my front door not fifteen minutes ago. A very sleepy dispatch rider from Fort Sill presented it to me.”
“Couldn’t he have waited?” Dooley inquired. “Perhaps until noon or later.” Then suddenly the full meaning of the captain’s words sprung into his sleep-doped mind. “A deployment!”
“It’ll take us all the way south to the Rio Grande River down in Texas. There seems to be a shitpot full of trouble in that area. There’s a bunch of bandidos making raids out of Mexico into the U.S. of America.”
“Ha!” Ludlow exclaimed. “We’ll put a stop to those outrages!”
“You godamn right we will. The murdering bastards don’t know what they’re in for. Now get dressed. We have to report to Fort Sill by late tomorrow afternoon. The post trading store should be open in about fifteen minutes. We can grab a quick breakfast before going to the orderly room.”
“I’ll be dressed in a jiffy, sir!”
~*~
Bachelor officers such as Ludlow and Hawkins were not inclined to prepare their own meals in quarters. They ate in a special room in the back of the trader’s store that catered to commissioned officers. The cook Curly Hopkins was the assistant to Gerald Weiser the official trader. Curly presented a simple cuisine most of the time, but he was an excellent cook. He had spent a couple of decades working out of a chuck wagon for cowboys on ranches and during cattle drives. He had an innate talent with spices and other flavorings that could enhance even the simplest of dishes. He acquired this talent from a Mexican cocinero he had worked with on the famous Chisholm Trail when he was a boy.
When Gerald Weiser and Curly Hopkins walked up to the store’s front door, they were surprised to see Mack Hawkins and Ludlow Dooley. Weiser spoke to them as he unlocked the padlock. “What’s brought you eager beavers here at this hour?”
“We need breakfast pronto,” Hawkins said. “It’s gonna be a busy day.”
Weiser turned to Curly. “Take care of these fellers first thing. We can stock the shelves after they’re fed.”
“Sure thing, boss,” the cook said. He glanced at the two officers. “I ain’t got much to offer you gents. But there’s some ham and bread. The bread is stale but if’n I toast it, it won’t be too bad.”
“Don’t worry, Curly,” Hawkins said. “It’ll be fine for me and Mr. Dooley. He looked at his second-in-command. “Won’t it, Mr. Dooley?”
“Sure,” Ludlow replied, thinking of the bacon and eggs that would be available later for the other officers.
Weiser was curious. “What’s the big rush?”
“We’re headed down Texas way,” Hawkins answered.
Weiser was pleased by the news. “Then I reckon y’all are gonna be purchasing some of my canned and packaged goods, ain’t you?”
“We sure are.”
Ludlow spoke up. “Do you have any smoked oysters?”
“Sure do,” Weiser replied. “I always keep some on hand for you, Ludlow. I never forget that they’re your favorite snack.”
“Gerald, I know now that God has a special place for you in heaven!”
Curly snorted. “The devil has a special place for him in hell is more likely.”
“Heaven or hell,” Hawkins said impatiently. “Get us some chow, Curly.”
~*~
By the time Ludlow and Hawkins had downed their breakfasts and strode across the garrison, the U.S. Kiowa-Comanche Scout Detachment was waiting in front of the orderly room. Ludlow, with the dispatch packet under his arm, went into the building while Hawkins took Sergeant Eagle Heart’s vocal report of all present and accounted for.
With that formality taken care of, the captain ordered the unit to stand at ease. “Scouts,” he said with a big grin. “We have a deployment.”
Howls of delight erupted from the scouts with Michael Strongbow and Charlie Wolf the loudest to express their exhilaration about the news.
“We’ll be heading south, all the way down to the Mexican border,” Hawkins said. “So let’s get ready as fast as we can.” He called them back to the position of attention, then spoke directly to Sergeant Eagle Heart. “Carry on, Sergeant.”
Eagle Heart, who was an expert in preparing for deployments, saluted then turned to the detachment to set the procedures in motion.
~*~
The rest of the detachment’s day was spent with work details. Among the myriad of tasks was the inspection of horses and horse furniture, issuing the new Krag-Jorgensen carbines, and distributing cartridges that had to be put into the four ammunition belts each man possessed.
Ludlow tended to his medical kit while Corporal Swift Horse took scouts Red Moon, Michael Strongbow and Charlie Wolf over to the commissary to draw the usual rations of salt pork, hardtack, sugar and the always indispensable coffee. When all that was taken care of, the entire detachment went to the post trader’s store where Gerald Weiser had prepared a display of the snacks and sweets he had for sale. These consisted of candy, cookies, dried fruit, tobacco and Ludlow’s smoked oysters.
~*~
It was early evening before everyone could take care of their personal packing. Most went to their homes on soapsuds row while Michael Strongbow and Charlie Wolf departed for the barracks where they were billeted with the garrison band.
Captain Hawkins set off for his quarters but Ludlow Dooley had one extra matter to attend to. He presented himself at the Berringer domicile, knocking politely. Mrs. Major Berringer appeared at the door, giving him a cold look.
“Hello, Mrs. Berringer, is Beth in?”
The Mrs. Major smiled in a wicked way. “She has a caller, Mr. Dooley.”
Ludlow was a bit taken aback. “Oh…well…it’s kind of important I see her, please.”
“Of course, Mr. Dooley,” the Mrs. Major remarked in a haughty tone of voice. “You’ll find her in the parlor. With her caller of course. So please be direct and quick with your intrusion.”
Ludlow went across the foyer and through the curtained door of the parlor. He saw Beth sitting with Lieutenant Bradley Martin. Martin was immediately flustered. “Hello, Dooley.”
“Hello, Martin,” Ludlow replied. He made a slight bow toward Beth. “Uh…Miss Spencer, I’ve come to inform you that I will not be able to visit you for awhile.”
“Oh, my goodness, Ludlow! Why not?”
Ludlow was pleased by her concern. He straightened up and announced, “My detachment has been ordered to Texas.” He paused for dramatic effect. “There are bandits coming out of Mexico to raid small towns down there. We are charged with stopping them.”
Beth stood up, her face bearing an expression of worry and concern. “Will you be in any battles, Ludlow?”
“We expect to see action, yes. We must be at Fort Sill tomorrow to entrain for Texas and attack those gangs of Mexican bandits we must fight. They are murderers and capable of the worst villainy possible.” He stepped back and bowed again. “Goodbye, Beth.”
“Oh, Ludlow! Don’t say goodbye!”
“Then farewell until we meet again.”
All this time Lieutenant Bradley Martin stood awkwardly as Ludlow’s appearance made him seem a useless parade ground soldier.
Ludlow glanced at him. “So long, Martin, old boy. Do see that Fort Lone Wolf remains safe.” And with that final sardonic statement, he turned and walked grandly toward the door, grinning to himself in pure delight.
~*~
Lieutenant Roberto Gonzales and Sergeant Humberto Sanchez sat with Colonel Juan-Carlos Venezuela, Comandante Karl Jager and Sub-Comandante Santiago Gomez in the colonel’s hut. A bottle of tequila and the required salt and lemon had been set on the table between them by the colonel’s orderly. The first order of business had been knocking back several shots of the Mexican liquor. Now it was time for serious conversation.
The colonel was in a good mood. “So!” he exclaimed. “You have a report of a most advantageous target to open the first serious actions of the war against the United States of America, eh?”
“Si, mi coronel,” Gonzales replied. “It is the riverfront town of Sumter Landing. It is served by a small steamboat that carries freight between it and Ciudad Juarez and El Paso. From Sumter Landing the cargo is distributed by mule train farther inland to the north.”
“Mmm,” Jager mused. “It sounds like an important strategic target.”
“It is indeed,” Gonzales assured him. He pulled out a sketch map he had made of the river front, setting it on the table. “You will have to cross the Rio Grande into the United States at a point west of Rosario, Texas. Unfortunately, the water is too deep at Sumter Landing, so you’ll have to make a ten kilometer ride to reach it.”
Jager studied the sketch. “What is the population of Sumter Landing? On your map it appears to be a village.”
“You are right,” Gonzales said. “I estimate that Sumter Landing numbers some three to four hundred residents. The steamboat company offers the only employment in the area.”
Sanchez added, “There are several large homes of wealthy families who operate that one business. We assume they are Gringos.”
Valenzuela looked at Jager. “I’m going to let you plan the attack on Sumter Landing. Just keep in mind, that this is an important battle that must be won.”
“All battles are important and must be won,” Jager declared.
“You are right, of course,” Valenzuela conceded. He turned to Gonzales and Sanchez. “I congratulate you both. You did an excellent job of choosing a first target.”
“Gracias, mi coronel,” Gonzales replied.
“We weren’t just sitting around while you were making your reconnaissance,” Jager said. “We conducted a few quick raids across the Rio Grande to give our young fighters additional experience. They will be extremely happy to learn the war is now officially but secretly declared against the United States of America.”
Valenzuela settled back in his chair and nodded to Gonzales. “Where will your next reconnaissance take you?”
“We are going to an area farther east,” the lieutenant replied. “There are locations we know that must be evaluated.”
“I’m sure you will choose places where we can hurt the Gringos the most.”
Jager said, “I am looking forward to battling the Gringos. I have often been curious about their fighting abilities.”
“I will give you standing orders now, Comandante Jager,” Valenzuela said. “Show them no mercy! Take no prisoners! Massacre them all!”