Warren Murphy: The Color of Fear

"Fetch up some of that coffee and hardtack," he said.

"The hardtack is really hard this time, sir," Price said. "The catering service; went a mite overboard, I fear."

"Then fetch up a pan and we'll soften it up in bacon grease," Hazard snapped.

The order was carried out, a dented tin cup of black coffee was proffered and Colonel Rip Hazard hunkered down with his men to sup.

The sun fell, the shadows grew dreary and at length a full moon rose in the southern sky to bless the hallowed soil on which they had bivouacked. The granite obelisk consecrated to the supreme hero of the Crater, Major General William Mahone, became an eternal candle in the night. Somewhere a screech owl gave warning.

Colonel Rip Hazard stared long into his pan of brown bubbling bacon grease as he softened the hardtack to edible consistency, his thoughts roiling. A difficult day loomed before them. Only he knew how difficult it was to be, Hazard ruminated.

In that, he was sore mistaken. Only God knew how terrible the coming day would be. Not only for the Sixth. But for the Union.

Shadows of night filled the grassy cup of the crater where one of the the worst battles of the Civil War had been contested. Whippoorwills called eerily through the pines.

"Favor us with an air appropriate to the occasion, Mr. Price," Hazard said at length.

Price stood up, his uniform already dirty. Tucking instrument to mouth, he rendered a doleful tune everyone recognized as "My Maryland." Eyebrows shot up until Hazard muttered, "Mr. Price's kin hail from Baltimore originally."

Everyone then shrugged in vague acceptance. After all, Maryland was just as southern as Virginia. The eastern part, at any rate.

When the interminable melody finally wound down, Colonel Hazard cleared his throat and said, "Very good, Mr. Price. Mighty fine playing."

Hazard stood up. The others remained sprawled and hunkered around the simmering camp fires.

"Gentlemen," he began, his voice gathering pride and dignity and a kind of mortal thunder with each syllable, "Ah stand here enduring proud to be a son of Virginia. On this spot, six score and eleven years ago, mah honored great-greatgranddaddy perished for the cause he believed in. This is hallowed ground to me. This is the very soil that nurtured the first American rebel, George Washington, who, had he enjoyed a longer span, Ah firmly believe would have fought for Davis during the great rebellion."

"Amen," a voice murmured.

"Mah granddaddy gave up his last precious drop of blood to consecrate this battlefield during the Siege of Petersburg, and Ah can do no less."

A chorus of murmured assent came.

"Tomorrow our dread foe will march upon this sacred place, intent upon despoiling it."

A low growl like dogs who are cornered arose.

"As sons of our honored fathers, we cannot allow this travesty to come to pass."

"And we won't "

"But we are but thirty-five in mortal number, and the legions even now gathering to annihilate us are many."

"We can outshoot 'em," Price piped up.

Hazard raised a quelling hand.

"Well said. But you men do not know war as Ah know war. You have not stood amid its din, inhaled its bitter smoke, heard comrades and foes alike screaming in pain and crying for their God and their mothers so far away and unheeding. Ah have." His voice cracked. "Ah have seen the elephant, as our forefathers so eloquently put it. Accordingly Ah will not lead you brave and willing boys into dismal defeat."

A rebel yell went up, spooking the screech owl to flight and silencing the whippoorwills.

Hazard smiled. This was the spirit of Dixie. Clearing his throat anew, he pressed on with his odious duty.

"As your commanding officer, Ah have taken measures to ensure that come the morrow we will stand victorious against the hated foe."

Another rebel yell howled forth.

"These measures include certain liberties that may be difficult for true men of the South to endure without complaint." He made his voice metallic. "But endure them without complaint you will, for Ah will have obedience and discipline, and in return for these presents, Ah will give you the final victory over the enemy."

This time the men of the Sixth Virginia Recreational Foot grew silent. They could see the emotion in the colonel's face. It was the face a military man wore in defeat, or in the aftermath of defeat. They listened intently.

"At dawn the Yankees will arrive."

"Damn Yankee devils," a man growled.

"I thought the Yanks weren't due till noon?" another asked.

"You're thinking of the other damn Yanks. The California Yanks who have come carpetbagging into our preserves."

"Aren't there some Florida Yanks amongst them?" asked Belcher.

Hazard nodded. "You speak God's own truth, soldier," Hazard averred. "But the Yanks who will come at sunup are a different breed, pledged to our cause, not against it."

This pronouncement was met with stony silence and some blinking of fire-dappled eyes.

"As your commanding officer, Ah took the liberty of enlisting the aid of the Forty-fourth Rhode Island Weekend Artillery."

No one spoke. They leaned toward their commanding officer.

"They are, even as we speak, speeding south to succor us in the coming siege. Behind them follow the First Massachusetts Interpretive Cavalry."

"The First Massachusetts!" Belcher blurted. "Didn't we whup their raggety tails once?"

Hazard nodded heavily. "At the Second Manassas Reenactment. They were stout soldiers and true, even if their cause was unjust, but they share our outrage at the thing that is about to be done to this sacred place where good men both gray and blue fell in tumultuous combat."

The silence that followed was brittle. Colonel Hazard surveyed the faces of his men. He was asking them to do a bitter thing in this dark hour, and there was no predicting their mood.

"Ah need not remind you men that on this spot on July 30, in the year of our Lord 1864, Union and Confederate regulars engaged in battle. Tomorrow they will engage in battle once again. But this time they will stand shoulder to shoulder as united Americans to fight a foe more odious to each than they are to one another. Now if these Union boys can lay aside their differences and join cause with us Rebels, how can we fail to do the same in return?"

The longest silence in Colonel Hazard's woefully short life came in the wake of his last wavering plea. On this moment turned the fate of the Petersburg National Battlefield and the honor of the South. Hazard held his breath until his ribs hurt.

"Well, hell," a man said, "if the Yanks care about old Virginny enough to swallow their pride, I guess we can chow down on a little cold crow and accept their help."

"Beats this hardtack and flap-doodle," another barked.

"Not that they'll be much comfort in battle, being New Englanders. Everyone knows New Englanders can't shoot worth a lick."

Colonel Rip Hazard let the hot, pent-up air of Virginia out of his Southern lungs and closed his ears to squeeze back the stinging tears of pride.

"With the North and South reunited against a common foe," he said in a choking voice, "how much chance does the thrice-damned enemy have?"

". . . HOW MUCH CHANCE does the thrice-damned enemy have?"

At a mobile command post van south of Petersburg, Virginia, a short-sleeved man removed headphones from his ears and snapped a console switch.

"This is Task Force Coordinator Moise," he said into a filament mike suspended before his mouth.

"Go ahead, Task Force Coordinator Moose."

"The Sixth Virginia Recreational Foot has enlisted the Forty-fourth Rhode Island Artillery and the First Mass Cavalry to stand against us."

"Damn good-for-nothing Rebels."

"Advise, please."

"Continue monitoring operations. If fighting breaks out, decamp."