T. Novan - Words Heard In Silence / Xena Uber

Although the good Colonel did not realize it about himself, the one thing that could be said about him was that he inspired kindness and compassion in the most unlikely souls. But his last visit to the sanctuary that was Lizzie’s arms and bed had been many months and many, many miles ago.

As he rode through the camp, he was pleased to see that the boys had done their work well and efficiently, as he knew they would. When he had taken over command there had been many changes in the way things were done. And while the men had balked at first, it did not take them long to realize that their new commander did indeed know the art of war, how to prepare, how to fight, and how to survive.

At first, they did not understand why he ordered latrines as far away from quarters as possible, or that the bath had to be set up down stream from the mess. He also required that every man bathe as regularly as possible and wash his uniforms. No, they had not understood all the new rules when Colonel Redmond had taken over, but when it became apparent that the overall level of health and fitness had increased, they began doing the Colonel’s bidding without question.

The final stop was to check on the horses. Charlie’s command was light cavalry; their horses were their lives. Each man who rode, was required to carefully groom their beasts, tend to their feet, keeping them clean, trimmed and make sure that shoes were in good shape and not loose. A bad shoe could make a horse lame in a matter of hours, especially if there was a hard trip to be taken.

The land that they were currently camped on was a horse’s version of heaven. Fenced pastures and a network of small creeks running with fresh water guaranteed each animal the freedom to roam with plenty of clean water and fresh, sweet grass instead of being staked at picket lines eating rotting, moldy hay. Charlie knew that more thanks were due Miss Rebecca.

Returning to his own tent, he changed into spare uniform britches, clean shirt and vest. He considered putting on his day coat but even though it was October, it was still very warm. Redressed, Charlie stuck his head out of his tent, giving a whistle that was known to be the call for his batman.

"Aye, Colonel C?" Jackson slipped into his tent quietly and as they had done for many years, they dispensed with the formality of a salute. Other than Dr. Elizabeth Walker and her own field assistant Mr. Walt Whitman, Jackson was the only other person in the entire army who knew his secret.

Jackson and Charlie had been together since Charlie’s early days in the army, since the gruesome battle of Buena Vista that had earned him the career track as an officer and not merely as cannon fodder under the command of another. He had saved Jackson’s life during that campaign and Jackson had save his numerous times since, by safe guarding his secret.

"I borrowed our hostess’s brother’s clothing this morning, Jackson. I think I should return it without the smell of the stables. Would you handle it?"

He smiled at his commander, giving a gentle sniff to the air. "Aye, Colonel C. Seems that you ‘‘borrowed’ more than the clothes. Is that perfumed soap I smell?"

Charlie sighed. He should have known that his companion would torment him if he knew what had transpired at the house. While Jackson did not really know, he had a good idea.

"Had yourself a nice bath in a real tub did ya’?"

"I did." The Colonel hoped his short answer would placate the man.

"And would you be returning these duds to the lady yourself?"

"I would, my friend and extending her my protection as well. Let the men know, if you would, that any insult to her will be an insult to me."

"You know, Colonel, the men will cheer you on. I think your tendency to stay to yourself worries them sometimes. You know –– not manly enough. Though the good Lord knows, they have seen just what you can do on a battlefield."

Charlie laughed. Jackson regularly defended the commander’s ‘‘manhood’. Generally, it was done with his very dry and droll wit, but occasionally, when someone had the bad sense to suggest that the commander preferred the company of men to the charms of the ladies, he had been known to bust the occasional head. Given Jackson’s Irish temper, Charlie was surprised that there were not more men down on the injured list from a solid thumping from his batman.

"Well, if things work out as I hope, I will probably be moving my command up to the main house."

"Oh my. That sounds serious." He grinned at his commander. "Does she know?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"I let her tend my wound. She noticed."

"Sweet Jesu, Charlie. What did you go and do that for? She could destroy you!"

"I know, Jocko. I know. But there is just something about her. I trust her."

"Dear Lord." The Irishman crossed himself. "Save me from gallant southerners and frustrated women. I thought you had more sense than that." Jackson grabbed the clothing Charlie left in a pile and started to stomp out of the tent. He turned back just at the entrance. "Well, for all of our sakes, I hope you are right, Charlie. I hope you are right."

Charlie appreciated Jocko’s concern and was grateful for his friendship, even though it often led to suspension of the traditional relationship between commanding and non-commissioned officer. He took his seat at his desk to review the morning’s dispatches and to write his own reports to General Sheridan. As he sifted through the various papers, his mind ran over the engagements his men had been in since General Grant ordered them east. They had joined Phil Sheridan’s forces after the worst battles of the year; those campaigns that would be recorded in history as the Wilderness and the Battle of Spotsylvania Courthouse. Charlie had joined the regiment after those, with his own experienced troops from Vicksburg used to refill the ranks of the tattered 13th Pennsylvania. Almost as a kindness, Charlie’s regiment had been sent to their current location. It was a strip of counties just east of the misty Blue Ridge that had seen more traffic during the war than any other as first one army, then the other moved through. His orders were to take control of the western supply lines and the critical rail bed that ran to Charlottesville and beyond.

Since their arrival, they had been fighting hit and run actions against Jubal Early’s forces. It was ugly –– light cavalry against light cavalry, sweeping back and forth through the foothills of Page and Warren Counties, up and down through the rolling hills of Fauquier, Culpeper, Rappahannock and Madison counties, always looking for a path south through Green and Orange Counties into Albemarle and the rail head in Charlottesville. Occasionally, they were called to serve as a lightening strike force, as they had last week. Sheridan commanded them north, across the pass toward Winchester to face Early’s forces at Cedar Creek. Fortunately, they were on the weak flank, Sheridan and Wright took the brunt of Early’s forces head on, and won the day. They were then free to return to the rail patrol.

On the way back south, there was that ugly day in Brandy Station, where the skirmishing was not with Early’s raiders, but instead with their own men, troops in the uniform of one of the New York conscription brigades. Charlie turned his back on one of them and paid for it. His men did not leave even one of the turncoats unmarked before they were sent back to Sheridan’s command post in Winchester for court martial.

Charlie was tired. He knew his troops were tired. He smiled as a thought suddenly took form. Maybe…… maybe we can winter here . If I promise to care for Miss Rebecca, to make sure she is not harmed by our presence maybe she will let us remain. The land is good. We have plenty of supplies. The horses will be able to get healthy here. There are barns and stables that my boys could fix up with a little work.