The Last Full Measure (2 page)

“While confinement and labor at Fortress Monroe may not be as openly brutal as a plantation, you would not be enjoying pic-nics there, sir, and though the fort is almost surrounded by water, none of that can be seen from the cells.”

Chamberlain managed a small, brief smile. “Irony is our constant companion in the so-called land of liberty, sir. What brings a military officer to this state, for so I judge you to be? What was your offense?”

“A former officer,” the other corrected, his mouth twisting at the words. “I refused an unlawful order, one which would have required me to violate the Constitution. After a brief show-trial for treason in front of the hooded judges of one of the military tribunals, here I sit beside you, bound for servitude for the crimes of believing in liberty and in the Republic.”

They had both kept their voices low so they wouldn’t be heard far over the rumble of the train, but one of the soldiers standing guard at the end of their car gave Chamberlain a hard look. Chamberlain pretended to stare out the barred window again for a while. As the train proceeded south and west into Virginia the buildings of Washington had given way to thickly forested land on either side of the rail line, the dark masses of trees only occasionally yielding begrudgingly to a clearing holding a building or a small town whose lights revealed little.

Finally, as the guard’s attention wandered, Chamberlain’s new companion spoke again. “And your offense, sir?”

“I conducted research,” Chamberlain admitted. “I gained access to the papers of George Washington, and to histories from the period immediately after our country was founded, and learned that General Washington was not installed as President by the army as our schools are required to teach, but instead rejected such an authority and only became president as a result of open, fair and free elections.”

“Treasonous sentiments, indeed,” his companion murmured. “Were you foolish enough to tell others?”

“I was. And one of them, it seems, reported that I was a danger.”

The former officer eyed Chamberlain. “Are you a danger?”

“Only to oppression. Only to lies. Those who rule our country are betraying everything for which our forefathers fought,” Chamberlain declared in a whisper. “Others in the north talk of revolt, but I hoped to change the country by words, by argument and the appeal to truth. Perhaps fighting is all we have left, though there’s little chance of that once we are chain-ganged into servitude.”

“Perhaps. But do not forget that the negroes have risen more than once. You have not heard? A free press would have reported it and accurate histories recorded it, but not when the government claims secrecy for anything that might embarrass it. No, sir, the slaves of this country have not accepted their fate meekly, and if they can still resist, so can we.” His companion looked up as two of the soldier guards marched down the center aisle of the rail car.

One of the guards leveled the bayonet on the end of his rifle until it aimed between Chamberlain’s eyes. “Orders are to remain quiet!”

Speaking had only brought him trouble. Wisdom once more dictated silence.
But a man can only stay silent for so long.
Chamberlain glared at the guard. “Whose orders? By what right does any man order silence when the Constitution of the United States of America grants the right of free speech to all?”

The guard looked startled by both the defiance and the question, but then an overweight officer in a new and ill-fitting uniform pushed up beside him and gave Chamberlain a contemptuous look. “We are defending this country against those who would threaten it, and that includes such as you who have been tried and found guilty. Remain silent or—”

“Tried?” Chamberlain cried. He knew from the man’s appearance that the officer was another political hack recently appointed to the military based on his loyalty to party rather than to country or constitution. “Before a panel of hooded officers, with no lawyer permitted me, with no chance to view the evidence made against me, and no right to speak on my own behalf? Those who founded this country would be sickened by those who claim to act for the Republic but are worse in their actions than any agent of King George III ever aspired to be!”

The officer’s face reddened. “I am a major in the Army of the United States and I will not tolerate such disrespect!”

Chamberlain’s companion laughed softly. “Major?” he drawled. “From the looks of you, two days ago you were rounding up mandatory contributions for politicians. You’re no soldier. You wouldn’t have lasted one minute at West Point. But I would have dearly enjoyed dealing with you there.”

This time the major’s face grew so dark it seemed to purple, but before he could speak the brakes squealed and everyone was thrown forward as the train lurched to a screaming halt. The major and the guards were still disentangling themselves when the door at the front of the car banged open and another soldier looked in. “Tree across the track! A big one! The colonel says to send two men from each car to help clear it!”

Grumbling, the major told off two of the guards and sent them out, then stomped grandly to the front of the car and vented his wrath on the remaining guards until the door to the car swung open again.

The major turned his head to snarl at the latest arrival, but instead paled as a pistol barrel touched his nose.

Several men followed the pistol barrel into the car, shotguns and pistols coming to bear on the rest of the guards while the soldiers were still trying to swing around the long barrels of their rifles. Within moments the guards had been disarmed and were being bound.

One of the intruders was a tall, handsome man who carried himself in a way that made Chamberlain think of some Knight of the Round Table. He walked down the aisle of the car, indicating prisoners who his followers hastened to release with keys taken from the major. Reaching Chamberlain’s row, the man looked down at the southerner chained to him and laughed. “Hullo, Lo.”

“Good evening, Win,” Chamberlain’s companion replied cheerfully. “It has been a while. What brings you here?”

“The colonel. He heard you would be on this train.”

Another man rushed into the car and saluted the handsome gentleman. “The train is ours, major.”

“Damn fine work, sergeant. Our work here will be done soon. Are you ready to go, Lo?”

Chamberlain’s companion stood up, then gestured to Chamberlain. “Please bring my new friend as well.”

“Oh?” The major eyed Chamberlain. “Who is he?”

Chamberlain answered. “Professor of Rhetoric Joshua Chamberlain. From Bowdoin, in Maine.”

“The hell you say.” The tall, handsome major flashed a grin at the southerner. “Come along, then, professor. I do not know what services a professor of rhetoric can render our cause, but if Lo vouches for you that is all I require.”

Chamberlain joined the stream of released prisoners as they left the train and followed guides into the woods. After several minutes, he looked back through the trees and saw the lights of the train moving off. “They’re just letting the train depart?” he asked.

“As far as the trestle across the James River,” the good-looking officer replied. “Have introductions been made? What is this country coming to? I am Major Winfield Hancock of the Army of the New Republic, professor, and this is Captain Lewis Armistead, still of the regular army as far as I know, if you haven’t been formally introduced to him, either. Our men will take the train as far as the trestle, then set fire to it and burn both bridge and train.”

Chamberlain felt a chill which had nothing to do with the night air. “What of the people on the train?”

Hancock waved one hand dismissively. “We’ve already let the other prisoners from the train go to scatter into the woods where they may. The soldiers will be released before the train is set afire.” His smile shone white in the darkness. “There’s little sense in killing the so-called officers on that train. Such buffoons are more a danger to the side they serve than to us.”

“Where are we going, Win?” Armistead asked.

“To the colonel’s headquarters for the night. There are horses up ahead. Don’t worry, even in the dark his men know this region like the backs of their hands.”

“The colonel?” Armistead pressed.

“Mosby,” Hancock replied. “John Singleton Mosby. A damned fine tactician and strategist. He rules this part of Virginia, and he’s no friend of tyranny.”

“I have heard the name, but not that he was a colonel.”

“That’s his current rank in the Army of the New Republic. We’re growing, Lo. More volunteers every day. Even here in northern Virginia some folks are getting fed up with the regular army deciding who the president will be and the president doing whatever he thinks the army wants and never mind the Constitution.”

“There are some in Maine as well,” Chamberlain offered. “We are a long ways from Washington and that has made it less galling, but the free folk of Maine are getting less and less tolerant of a federal government dancing to the tune set by plantation lords in the south and rich industrialists in the north.” He suddenly remembered where Armistead was from. “My apologies if my statement offended you, Captain Armistead.”

Armistead waved away Chamberlain’s apology. “You say nothing but the truth, professor. There is no need for concern on my account when speaking candidly.”

“Don’t let Lo’s mild manners fool you,” Hancock cautioned. “This old bastard has a temper. Just ask Jubal Early.”

“Speaking of fatherless get,” Armistead murmured. “I only regret that the plate I broke over his head was not made of pewter rather than porcelain.” He smiled briefly at Chamberlain. “That small event led to my departure from West Point. I received a commission later on despite that, but unlike my esteemed friend Winfield Hancock I never graduated from the Point.”

“It doesn’t make you any less an officer,” Hancock declared. “Especially compared to a son-of-a-bitch like Early. Remember when his men tried to blow him to hell during the war with Mexico? Rolled a cannon ball with a lit fuse under his cot. Damned if I know how he survived.”

“The devil looks after his own.”

They reached a clearing where Chamberlain could make out many horses through the dimness. He was led to one and mounted it, then watched as a large group of already-mounted men rode into the clearing. “Report, Captain Buford,” Hancock called.

“Our maneuvers were successful, Major,” Buford announced. “Regular army cavalry patrols were drawn off and are currently chasing their own tails well to the northeast of here. I have a screen of scouts in place to let us know if any veer back in this direction.”

“Damn good job, John. Have your men take the lead. I’ll follow with the raiding force.”

Armistead, his horse near Chamberlain’s, turned a surprised expression on Hancock. “I thought John Buford was still out west.”

“Was,” Hancock agreed. “Fighting the damned Texicans. He was relieved of command after refusing to follow a lunatic order from a politician in a colonel’s uniform. Then he had to watch his company of cavalry get torn to pieces in a senseless charge, and endure being court-martialed for the crime of trying to prevent that. They tried busting him to sergeant, but Buford rode away with most of what was left of his company.”

“You cannot underestimate the Texicans,” Armistead said, sighing. “They show no enthusiasm for accepting the annexation of their republic by our republic, and all too much enthusiasm for fighting anyone who disagrees with them.”

“You all seem to know each other,” Chamberlain marveled.

Armistead and Hancock exchanged looks. “West Point, professor,” Armistead explained. “Despite the common use by the government in Washington of military officer positions as reward for political loyalty, the regular army has managed to maintain a few officers on merit, almost all West Point graduates.”

“It sounds like many of you are going over to the Army of the New Republic.”

“More and more,” Hancock said quietly. “All of us? Not so. And not every professional sticking with the government is a son-of-a-bitch like Early or a dumb-ass incompetent like Pope. There’s some very good men who still march to the beat of the drum in Washington. Make no mistake of that.” He paused, then spoke with sudden passion. “May God damn Andrew Jackson! If not for him, we would still be a republic in fact as well as name, and not facing our own former comrades at point of sword.”

“Most blame Jackson,” Chamberlain objected, “but even though the use of military officer positions as partisan political prizes bore its awful fruit after Andrew Jackson, the tree was planted by John Adams. Adams was one of the founders we revere, yet he was too free with the idea of emergency measures which overrode the Constitution, such as the Alien and Sedition Acts. Now we live in a perpetual state of national emergency, subject to ‘protections’ which have produced the loss of the liberty which we mourn.”

Armistead nodded. “Even though West Pointers have protected each other somewhat, it has been a losing battle, more of us being forced out each year. We still have a core of actual professional officers trying to hold things together, but the rest of the officer corps is simply a group of political partisans who come and go at the whims of those pulling the strings at the White House.”

“Thank you, professor.” Hancock looked straight ahead as he spoke. “I had not heard some of what you say, which is little surprise given how much of our history has been hidden for the benefit of those controlling public records. But the blame scarcely matters now except to prevent a repeat of the tragedy. What counts for us is the cure, and that is something in which we must all have a hand if the republic is to be renewed.”

“Someone else said much the same to me recently,” Chamberlain said, recalling Lincoln’s words.

They rode in silence for a long time, Chamberlain catching glimpses of the stars overhead through the thick tree cover and thinking on what Hancock had said. Had he included Chamberlain when Hancock spoke of all of them having to work for the new republic? It seemed wrong to expect men such as this to sacrifice while Chamberlain sought safe passage back to Maine to hide among those who knew him. But Chamberlain’s mind kept shying away from the answer. He was not a military man. He had studied history and read some manuals, but that was the extent of his knowledge of war.