JUNE 14, 1863
A shell, flyin’ or rollin’ downhill, will blow you to high heaven just the same.
WE’RE LOSING TOO much weight. They give us a new concoction called “cush-cush,” a mixture of ground peas and meal we’re supposed to bake into bread. It ain’t fit to eat. Nobody complains. At least not out loud.
Overzealous, misguided men rail on like revival preachers. “If a man complains, he’s a coward. If he talks about goin’ home, put ’em in jail.”
I just wish they’d shut up.
General Shoup orders them, “If you can’t say somethin’ to inspire us to fight, then sit down. Encourage them to stay strong, or I’ll sit you down.” They sit down.
Hard rain showers make the rifle pits into mudholes. A man can break a leg just walking picket. One man slipped in the dark, cut his leg, and bled to death.
J.A. gripes, “Damn, gettin’ killed on your way to gettin’ killed.”
Sometime during the night, the Yanks hit a prime target in town with a shell. Smoke trails in the sky this morning. They said they’d bomb the city. I hope the town folk made it to their caves. We dig our bombproofs a little deeper into the parapet wall, just in case. We stretch blankets over the entrances and enjoy being out of the blazing sun.
The Yankees digging trenches up to the 27th Louisiana Lunette are almost close enough we could cook meals together. Don’t think that’ll happen.
News reaches us about lost battles in Virginia and Port Hudson near Baton Rouge expected to fall any time is nothing short of discouraging.
One of the 31st Louisiana boys comes by the lunette today with his chest poked out. “The Yanks charged us and eighty got in, but we killed forty and took the other forty prisoner.” I needed to hear that. Not about men being killed, but that we’re holding. It’s good news, I reckon.
Yank sharpshooters spend more ammunition in a day than we have on hand. Fortunately, another courier brings 20,000 more percussion caps for our muskets. But like our rations, cannon ordinance is all but gone. That ain’t good.
Jasper feels like he’s of no use. “Lummy, it’s awful. Anytime we fire a shot, the Yanks bear down on us with fifty guns. They take out our cannon, and the others got no ammunition. If the Yanks come again, we’re done for.”
General Shoup gathers up the artillerists. “Got an idea, men.” I sit by Jasper’s and James’s disabled cannon to listen. “You’ve done a fine job with your cannons, but that time is passed. You understand explosives better’n anybody. You will now retrain to become a grenade and thunderbarrel unit.”
James responds, “Say what?”
“Listen to me now. A shell’s a shell, flying through the air, lobbed over a parapet, or rolling down a hill. It blows you to high heaven either way. Some of you did that at the 27th Louisiana Lunette, didn’t you?”
Jasper yells, “Ain’t nothin’ to it, Gen’ral. Light the fuse and lob them over like apples.”
General Shoup points his finger at Jasper. “That’s the spirit.” He salutes and says to a captain from the 3rd Louisiana standing at a small table with various types of explosive rounds. “See to it.” I move closer. A man can always use a little extra training.
He demonstrates hand grenades, larger rampart grenades, and thunder barrels—hogshead kegs filled with rocks, metal, or anything that can do serious damage to flesh.
I lean over to Jasper. “Hell’s coming for the Yanks.” I head back to the lunette after a few minutes. When Jasper and James finish training, they get permission to visit me. I’m cleaning my rifle when they jump into the pit.
James punches my bad shoulder. “How you doin’, Lummy?”
I rub my arm and grin. “Worse now you’re here.” I polish my rifle barrel. “Y’all learn how to lob grenades better and roll thunder barrels down a hill? You could show ’em how you chunked dirt clods at each other back home. I got hit more’n once.” Tightness seizes my chest. “Jasper, James, be careful with them grenades. Keep your eyes on the fuse. They can get away from you in a heartbeat, and then yours will stop beatin’. I saw a Yank get the top half of his body blowed off in the first attack. Terrible sight.”
Jasper heaves, but nothing comes up. We sit quiet for a minute.
“Brothers, I ain’t tryin’ to scare you. Just get rid of anythin’ with a fuse burnin’ quick as you can, that’s all.”
———————————
THE 27TH GETS a leave for a few days rest in town. With my brothers close by I decide to rest in the shade trees behind the lunette.
Sarge doesn’t argue. “See you soon, Lummy. Let Bowen’s 2nd Missourah boys do the snipin’ and night watch. You earned a rest, son.”
I thank him.“Hey, Sarge, bring me any newspapers you find and something sweet, if you don’t mind.”
While the 27th is in town, our rations get cut again. A third pound of peas, two-thirds of five-sixths of a pound of meal—a measurement I don’t understand—a half-pound of mule beef including bones and gristle, a little sugar, some lard, soup, and salt in like amounts that can’t keep a man on his feet, much less ready to fight. We starve, and nothing can be done about it.
Yankee diggers are only ten paces from the lunette. It won’t be long before they come for us. A shell explodes overhead, and Jasper and James rush to the rifle pit with grenades. Other men carry thunder barrels. I race to the line, ready to help. As they launch the deadly bombs, I fire and load, shooting one Yank after another. James lights the grenades and Jasper lobs them high in the air so they explode a few feet above the ground. Yanks scream and yell, cry and curse.
James grabs a thunder barrel. “This ’uns full of small shells.”
Jasper lights it and pitches it over the parapet. The first big explosion goes off, then the shells burst, scattering shrapnel in every direction. Blood splashes high and falls like rain. They go back to lobbing grenades. One comes back as fast as Jasper throws it over landing where James lights the next grenade.
I yell, “James!”
He hands the lit one to Jasper, grabs the returned bomb and launches just in time for it to burst about fifteen feet above their heads. He grins like a demon and keeps lighting grenades and handing them to Jasper. Jasper’s arm gets tired, so James takes his turn throwing.
I shake my head. “Is this battle ever gonna end?”
Just as Jasper starts to throw his last grenade, a terrible force knocks him down. I grab the grenade Jasper dropped and throw it just in time. A cannonball had found its way into our rifle pit, blowing Jasper’s hat off. James throws a bucket of water at the cannonball buried into the soft dirt. Thankfully, it didn’t go off.
Finally, the Yanks retreat, and I check on my brothers. Jasper’s dazed but gets up, dusting off his pants. He puts on his hat, but it falls apart. “Well, what do you think about that?”
I take a hat from a dead soldier and hand it to him. “This will do.”
The two boys sit down on the hard dirt. I bring water. They nearly choke drinking so fast.
I check Jasper’s head. “How’s it feel?”
“All right, I reckon.”
James laughs. “Lucky is the word.”
I’m glad he doesn’t have a crease on his head like Mr. Wiley got in the Mexican War.
James laughs. “How about that little skirmish, big brother? You didn’t worry too much?”
Jasper cleans his nails with his pocketknife. “Why didn’t you take leave in town and go see all the pretty girls?”
“You know why, little brother.”
James kicks Jasper’s shoe. “So when I write Ma and tell how you had your eyes on all the pretty girls in Vicksburg, what’s your sweet wife Isabella Ray gonna say?”
Jasper raises his hands in surrender. “You’re right. I’m done. I’m out. No more talk like that. I’d appreciate it if you keep that last remark to yourself.”
James pokes his chest. “You’re safe with me.”
Then it hits me hard in the heart.
Jasper lays his arm on my shoulder. “Susannah?”
I nod, and a tear drops. “I wish I could joke like that about a wife I get to go home to one day.” We sit in silence.
James looks to the western sky. “Looks like a rain comin’.”
I stand up. “I’m fine. Boys, just love who the Lord gives you and be true as best you can. They deserve it.”
I ease up to the line to listen for diggers and to be alone. It crosses my mind to stick my head up and take a bullet. I can’t do that. I still believe the Good Lord has something for me. Susannah wouldn’t want that either.
Jasper takes me by the shoulders and gently shakes me. “I’m glad you’re here, big brother. We do better with you around. You watch over our souls.”
I clear my throat. “Y’all know this ain’t lookin’ too good. We can’t last long if that damn Johnston don’t show soon. Them boys y’all just blowed up? They’ve got more to replace them. They’re diggin’ a mine underneath this lunette to blow us to high heaven. Pay attention Jasper, and watch after James, you hear?” I walk on.
A shot rings out. A man down the line peeking into a sniper hole gets his eye shot out. Did he make a mistake or a choice?
I can’t make it that easy.