MAY 7, 1862
Sometimes the reason you start something ain’t the reason you finish it.
WE’RE ORDERED BACK to the earthworks, so we lose our easy guard duty job. Our new commander, Brigadier General Martin Luther Smith, is an engineer and makes it top priority to better the defenses of the city. With the 27th Louisiana being the only regiment in Vicksburg, that means lots of hard labor.
Sarge relieves us early at noon. “Lummy, tomorrow take ten men with picks and shovels to set them big stationary guns. Take these four hour passes and go see what you’re defendin’. Ain’t much time, so git.” He grins and shoves my shoulder. “Don’t be late for evenin’ parade, and you boys keep your roosters in your britches. Don’t forget, if you lie down with dawgs, you’ll get up with fleas. And you best make a good showin’ to the fine loyal folks of Vicksburg.”
J.A. laughs. “That means be respectful and stay out of trouble.”
River towns, I love them—the sights, the smells, the people, and the busyness. This is my first time seeing Vicksburg in the daytime. We get a table on a hotel porch at the corner of Crawford and Levee Streets. We drink real coffee and watch men feverishly building a gunboat. What a sight—thick timbers, pressed cotton to soften enemy cannon blows, and two inch steel plating. Most interesting is watching passengers trail up and down steamboat gangplanks—gamblers, itinerant preachers, merchants, fancy dressed ladies, families, and an officer or two.
Isham grins. “Them girls sure are pretty. Wonder what they doin’ in town?”
J.A. slaps his chest. “Boy, don’t you know nothin’? They’re here to see us. Lotta money to be made off soldiers if you got the right parts to sell.”
Isham shakes his head. “That’s too bad.”
I agree. “Oldest job in the world. Ain’t nobody right in it, man or woman.”
Travelers mostly look right through us like nothin’s going on except what’s in their small worlds. That’ll change when the Yanks show up. We finish our coffee and wander about town to get our bearings.
J.A. scratches his ear. “People scurryin’ in and out of town like rats. We must make ’em more serious about gettin’ prepared for what’s comin’.”
I wonder at it all. “I guess some think the city will be safer, and others think the opposite. Some haul stuff to the country, and some bring stuff to town.”
J.A. laughs. “And almost runnin’ into each other doin’ it. I guess safety’s where you believe it to be, true or not.”
Isaac hustles over to a candy shop. “Let’s get somethin’ sweet.” What’s not so sweet is the bitter temperament of the town folks.
“Damn Yankees’ll come now with y’all here. Can’t y’all go fight somewhere else?”
We assure them we’ll defend them and the city. It doesn’t help.
Sitting on a bench in front of the candy store, I read a newspaper. “It says here Vicksburg is the second largest city in Mississippi with five thousand souls callin’ it home. New Orleans and Memphis are two hundred miles in either direction. Steamboats arrive every day to unload molasses, flour, salt, manufactured goods, and all sorts of fancy foreign merchandise. That all might change with the Yanks holdin’ New Orleans and threatenin’ Memphis. Merchants fear smugglers and speculators will make prices go up.”
J.A. sniffs the air like a dog. “Ain’t nothin’ we can do about all that, but we can enjoy the smells of good food we don’t have money for and pretty girls strolling beautiful streets. They smell like a spring flower garden.”
Susannah’s face pops into my head reminding me of God’s gift.
Vicksburg is a place of culture, elegance, educated people, and luxurious living. Grocery stores are stocked full of food and clothing shops offer the latest fashions. Stores have every kind of sweet a person can imagine, and bookstores carry the latest titles. What a magnificent place—stone churches, an opera house, hotels decorated with wrought iron lace, sidewalks, and cobblestone streets. The new courthouse rivals anything in Europe. Little blonde, curly haired Lucy was sad when she said it was built by slaves. That little lady is different. She makes me want to be different. I am different. I just haven’t mustered the courage to live what I believe deep inside. That time’s coming though.
We stop for a closer look at the courthouse then walk to the Warren County Jail across the street.
J.A. rubs his hand along the brick wall. “I don’t want to get thrown in here.”
“You don’t. I was in jail for a week one time for hittin’ a bully in the back with a rock.”
He picks up a rock. “I guess you best leave them rocks alone, huh?”
“And the whiskey, dice and cards, fightin’, whorin’ around, and….”
“We get it, Lummy. We’ll be good boys who go to church every time the door opens, okay?”
“Just repeatin’ what Sarge told us. River towns are a den of sin for young lads like us.”
Isaac asks, “You some kinda preacher or somethin’?”
“Now I ain’t against takin’ a snort of moonshine on a cold winter’s night or of Pa’s special cough medicine he made every September. He’d buy a gallon of moonshine from the Wood boys and put in lemon drops. It’d take the fight out of a cold and cough. Funny thing though, the jars drained just as fast even when no one was sick. Ole Mistah Wiley liked the lemon drop moonshine I made him the night he died. At least he passed with a smile on his face.”
J.A. smiles. “I liked that old man. He told good stories.”
“He did. But no, Isaac, I ain’t no preacher. My Pa just taught us to stay away from evil places. He’d say, ‘Them folks’ll get you drunk, take your money, and give you a disease.’”
J.A. pats me on the shoulder. “You must’ve had a good father.”
“Yeah, I did, in many ways.”
Even though Pa was hard on us, we knew he loved us. I’ll never understand why he had to be hard as nails about everything. Grandpa Willoughby must’ve been harder on him than Pa was on us. I guess that’s the way of it. Sons should become better than their fathers. I want to shuck off the meanness Pa put in me. I don’t want to pass that along to the children Susannah and I will have together. But I may need that hardness to survive what’s coming.
Before heading back to camp, we scamper up Sky Parlor Hill to view the river. It’s just like little curlyhaired Lucy told us. We can see for miles over into Louisiana. I wish I could see my Susannah. “Lord, I miss my darlin’.”
J.A. sighs, “Me, too, brother.”
Isaac points. “What’s that smoke over there?”
I block the sun from my eyes. “Sarge told me Company A was ordered to set fire to cotton bales down by the river. Twelve hundred bales for twelve hundred men of the 27th Louisiana.”
J.A. shakes his head. “What a waste.”
I whisper, “Lord, don’t let us be so easily destroyed when the Yanks bring their fire. I got too much to live for.”
J.A. elbows me. “I know one dang thing for certain, that fire ain’t nearly as hot as the blaze you got in your heart for your wife.” I feel my anger burn about leaving.
He lays his arm on my shoulder. “She sees you, Lummy, in her heart. We both can see who we’re fightin’ for from up here.” We make it to camp just in time for evening drill.
———————————
THE BUGLE SOUNDS too early this morning. We dress, eat, and line up for morning assembly.
Colonel Marks announces, “President Davis says Vicksburg is the nail that holds the two halves of our nation together. It’s the lifeline for the whole country. Memphis will fall soon and with New Orleans already in enemy hands, all things from the west will now come through Vicksburg. Boys, we gotta hold her. We’re in an impregnable position atop this great hill.”
J.A. leans over. “I remember hearin’ the preacher say somethin’ about the Israelites knockin’ the walls of Jericho down with only marchin’, shoutin’, and trumpet blasts.”
I whisper back, “Sittin’ on top of two hundred foot bluffs with the gullies surroundin’ us? Hell, ain’t nary a blue army ever made can take this grand city.”
J.A. squints. “Then we better build these forts stronger than the people of Jericho did theirs.”
Breaking my back and sweat dripping off my face like it’s raining in these earthworks and expecting thousands of bluecoats to come across the hill, I’m glad Pa toughened us up. I stop to wipe the sweat from my brow. “Am I fightin’ for the right reason here? Am I on the right side?”
J.A. throws dirt at my feet. “Shut up, boy! They’ll shoot you for sayin’ stuff like that.”
“Shot now, shot later. What does it matter if you don’t believe in what you’re doin’?”