windows falling in a glittering shower.
At that point the woman cried out again and I bounded up the stairs two and three at a time, tripping over broken piano legs as I went. The scene that greeted me on my arrival at the top beggars description. There were three soldiers, two of whom I recognized from my unit, the other either a new recruit or a transfer, and all of them from the very patrol that was meant to forestall disturbances of the peace. They were flushed and laughing, as a woman and a girl of about thirteen years, whom I took to be mother and daughter, cowered, their faces tear-streaked and terrified. The men were playing catch across the ruins of the room with a Chinese vase of some apparent antiquity. The woman was crying out that it was all she had left to her of her grandmother’s possessions, and begging them to stop. The girl ran between them, trying to grasp the vase in midair. The third soldier grabbed her around the waist and pulled her away. When I saw him place his hand most lewdly between her thighs, my thoughts flew to my own daughters, and the bellow of rage that escaped me was a ferocious thing, so loud as to freeze the actions of everyone in that room.
“Who is in command here?”
Five faces-the soldiers’, florid, slack-jawed with surprise; the womens’, pale and blotched with emotion—turned suddenly toward me.
I lowered my voice and repeated my question: “Who is in command?”
“I am, sir,” said the corporal, wiping the sweat off his brow.
“Then kindly explain this outrage.”
“Why, sir, we was just raising a little hell with the secesh. Don’t the Bible say Sodom and Gomorrah was destroyed because they was wicked? Why not this rebel nest?”
“Corporal, your orders were to take anything of which the men have actual need. You were expressly forbidden from acts of theft or wanton destruction. What you have done here is contemptible.”
The corporal gave me a dark look, then hawked and spat right on the Turkey carpet. “’Bout as contemptible as shooting all those good men in cold blood under the bluff, would you say, chaplain, sir?” I felt the blood draining from my face under the force of his insolent stare. “The men ain’t forgot it, even if you has.”
“A gentleman—no, say, rather, a man -would take his just anger to the field of battle,” I replied coldly. “You may not visit it on innocent civilian women. Kindly clean up as much of this mess as you can and accompany me to the colonel.” I turned to the woman and her daughter. She had drawn the girl close, and was smoothing her hair with a tenderness of gesture that brought my Marmee and little Beth before me. “Madam,” I said gently. “You have my most profound apologies. These men do not represent the army of the Union, and do no credit to our cause.”
She drew herself up, cowering no longer. Her gray eyes were lit with rage. “Your men, sir, are scum. As is your ‘cause.’”
I heard the corporal give a snort, whose meaning was clearly “I told you so.” I turned and glared at him, and he went about a perfunctory cleanup, which consisted merely in kicking some splintered pieces of furniture toward the fire grate. I was anxious to be gone from that house, so I did not trouble to exhort him to more particular efforts, and very soon we were marching in a cold silence to the house where the colonel had set up his command post.
When we arrived he was taking a conference in regard to the pontoon bridge, and so we were obliged to wait above an hour for an audience, and when we were admitted he was still poring over engineer’s drawings and seemed to listen to my complaint with only half an ear.
“Very well,” he said when I had concluded. He turned to the offending soldiers. “The chaplain is quite right. I won’t have civilian women molested, even if they are the wives and spawn of rebels, I understand why you felt driven to do it, but don’t be doing it again. Dismissed.”
The soldiers
At that point the woman cried out again and I bounded up the stairs two and three at a time, tripping over broken piano legs as I went. The scene that greeted me on my arrival at the top beggars description. There were three soldiers, two of whom I recognized from my unit, the other either a new recruit or a transfer, and all of them from the very patrol that was meant to forestall disturbances of the peace. They were flushed and laughing, as a woman and a girl of about thirteen years, whom I took to be mother and daughter, cowered, their faces tear-streaked and terrified. The men were playing catch across the ruins of the room with a Chinese vase of some apparent antiquity. The woman was crying out that it was all she had left to her of her grandmother’s possessions, and begging them to stop. The girl ran between them, trying to grasp the vase in midair. The third soldier grabbed her around the waist and pulled her away. When I saw him place his hand most lewdly between her thighs, my thoughts flew to my own daughters, and the bellow of rage that escaped me was a ferocious thing, so loud as to freeze the actions of everyone in that room.
“Who is in command here?”
Five faces-the soldiers’, florid, slack-jawed with surprise; the womens’, pale and blotched with emotion—turned suddenly toward me.
I lowered my voice and repeated my question: “Who is in command?”
“I am, sir,” said the corporal, wiping the sweat off his brow.
“Then kindly explain this outrage.”
“Why, sir, we was just raising a little hell with the secesh. Don’t the Bible say Sodom and Gomorrah was destroyed because they was wicked? Why not this rebel nest?”
“Corporal, your orders were to take anything of which the men have actual need. You were expressly forbidden from acts of theft or wanton destruction. What you have done here is contemptible.”
The corporal gave me a dark look, then hawked and spat right on the Turkey carpet. “’Bout as contemptible as shooting all those good men in cold blood under the bluff, would you say, chaplain, sir?” I felt the blood draining from my face under the force of his insolent stare. “The men ain’t forgot it, even if you has.”
“A gentleman—no, say, rather, a man -would take his just anger to the field of battle,” I replied coldly. “You may not visit it on innocent civilian women. Kindly clean up as much of this mess as you can and accompany me to the colonel.” I turned to the woman and her daughter. She had drawn the girl close, and was smoothing her hair with a tenderness of gesture that brought my Marmee and little Beth before me. “Madam,” I said gently. “You have my most profound apologies. These men do not represent the army of the Union, and do no credit to our cause.”
She drew herself up, cowering no longer. Her gray eyes were lit with rage. “Your men, sir, are scum. As is your ‘cause.’”
I heard the corporal give a snort, whose meaning was clearly “I told you so.” I turned and glared at him, and he went about a perfunctory cleanup, which consisted merely in kicking some splintered pieces of furniture toward the fire grate. I was anxious to be gone from that house, so I did not trouble to exhort him to more particular efforts, and very soon we were marching in a cold silence to the house where the colonel had set up his command post.
When we arrived he was taking a conference in regard to the pontoon bridge, and so we were obliged to wait above an hour for an audience, and when we were admitted he was still poring over engineer’s drawings and seemed to listen to my complaint with only half an ear.
“Very well,” he said when I had concluded. He turned to the offending soldiers. “The chaplain is quite right. I won’t have civilian women molested, even if they are the wives and spawn of rebels, I understand why you felt driven to do it, but don’t be doing it again. Dismissed.”
The soldiers
Similar Books
