left, their relief propelling them swiftly from the room. Only the corporal paused, to give me a swift grin of contempt. The colonel had taken up a compass and commenced measuring distances on the engineer’s drawings.
“Sir—” I began, but he cut me off.
“March, I think you should reconsider your place with this regiment.”
“Sir?”
“You can’t seem to get on with anyone. You’ve irritated the other officers ... Even Tyndale can’t abide you—and he’s as much of an abolitionist as you are. Surgeon McKillop ruins my mess more often than not, ranting about your latest outrage. The night before last you’d put him beside himself with some preachment you gave that a Christian needn’t worship Christ as God. I’ve got him in one ear complaining that you don’t preach against sin, and yet here you are sowing discord in the ranks by seeing a great sin in harmless soldierly pranks ...”
“Sir, such wanton destruction is hardly-”
“Keep your peace, would you, March, for once in your life?” He jabbed the compass so hard that it passed right through the chart and lodged in the fine mahogany of the desk beneath. He came around the desk then and laid a hand on my arm. “I like you all right; I know you mean well, but the thing of it is, you’re too radical for these mill-town lads. I knew your views when my old friend Day recommended you to this service, and personally I have no love for slavery. But most of these boys aren’t down here fighting for the nig- for the slaves. You must see it, man. Be frank with yourself for once. Why, there’re about as many genuine abolitionists in Lincoln’s army as there are in Jeff Davis’s. When the boys in this unit listen to you preach emancipation, all they hear is that a pack of ragged baboons is going to be heading north to take their jobs away ...”
“Sir! I hardly think...”
He shot me a hard look. I held my tongue, with the greatest difficulty, and wondered again how a man like this ever came to be counted a friend by Daniel Day. He went on, as if speaking to himself “Why do we have chaplains? The book of army regulations has little to say on the matter. Odd, isn’t it? In that one institution where order is everything, where every man has a place and a duty, the chaplain alone has no defined place and no prescribed duty. Well, in my view your duty is to bring the men comfort.” Then he glared at me and raised his voice. “That’s your role, March, damn it. And yet all you seem to do is make people un comfortable” He plucked the compass out of the desk and rapped it impatiently against the chair back. When he resumed speaking, it was in a more civil tone. “Don’t you think you’d do better with the big thinkers in the Harvard unit?”
“Sir, the Harvard unit has famous ministers even in its rank and file—men from its own divinity school. They hardly need ...”
He raised his big, meaty hand, as if conceding my point, and, turning away from me, waved it in a vaguely southern direction. “Well, then, since you like the Negroes so very much, have you thought about assisting the army with the problem of the contraband? The need is plain. Ever since Butler opened the gates at Fortress Monroe to these people, we’ve had hundreds streaming into our lines, and more still falling under our care on the liberated plantations. Someone has to make dispositions for them. The labor of the men is useful enough-better they be employed building our breast-works than the enemy’s—but they will come trailing their bedmates and their brats. They are upon our hands by the fortunes of war, and yet, with war to wage, officers can’t be playing wet nurse. If something is not done, why, the army will be drowned in a black tide ...”
“But, Colonel,” I interrupted, taking a pace forward and putting myself back in his line of sight. “I know the men in this regiment. I was with them at the camp of instruction; we drilled together. I prayed with
“Sir—” I began, but he cut me off.
“March, I think you should reconsider your place with this regiment.”
“Sir?”
“You can’t seem to get on with anyone. You’ve irritated the other officers ... Even Tyndale can’t abide you—and he’s as much of an abolitionist as you are. Surgeon McKillop ruins my mess more often than not, ranting about your latest outrage. The night before last you’d put him beside himself with some preachment you gave that a Christian needn’t worship Christ as God. I’ve got him in one ear complaining that you don’t preach against sin, and yet here you are sowing discord in the ranks by seeing a great sin in harmless soldierly pranks ...”
“Sir, such wanton destruction is hardly-”
“Keep your peace, would you, March, for once in your life?” He jabbed the compass so hard that it passed right through the chart and lodged in the fine mahogany of the desk beneath. He came around the desk then and laid a hand on my arm. “I like you all right; I know you mean well, but the thing of it is, you’re too radical for these mill-town lads. I knew your views when my old friend Day recommended you to this service, and personally I have no love for slavery. But most of these boys aren’t down here fighting for the nig- for the slaves. You must see it, man. Be frank with yourself for once. Why, there’re about as many genuine abolitionists in Lincoln’s army as there are in Jeff Davis’s. When the boys in this unit listen to you preach emancipation, all they hear is that a pack of ragged baboons is going to be heading north to take their jobs away ...”
“Sir! I hardly think...”
He shot me a hard look. I held my tongue, with the greatest difficulty, and wondered again how a man like this ever came to be counted a friend by Daniel Day. He went on, as if speaking to himself “Why do we have chaplains? The book of army regulations has little to say on the matter. Odd, isn’t it? In that one institution where order is everything, where every man has a place and a duty, the chaplain alone has no defined place and no prescribed duty. Well, in my view your duty is to bring the men comfort.” Then he glared at me and raised his voice. “That’s your role, March, damn it. And yet all you seem to do is make people un comfortable” He plucked the compass out of the desk and rapped it impatiently against the chair back. When he resumed speaking, it was in a more civil tone. “Don’t you think you’d do better with the big thinkers in the Harvard unit?”
“Sir, the Harvard unit has famous ministers even in its rank and file—men from its own divinity school. They hardly need ...”
He raised his big, meaty hand, as if conceding my point, and, turning away from me, waved it in a vaguely southern direction. “Well, then, since you like the Negroes so very much, have you thought about assisting the army with the problem of the contraband? The need is plain. Ever since Butler opened the gates at Fortress Monroe to these people, we’ve had hundreds streaming into our lines, and more still falling under our care on the liberated plantations. Someone has to make dispositions for them. The labor of the men is useful enough-better they be employed building our breast-works than the enemy’s—but they will come trailing their bedmates and their brats. They are upon our hands by the fortunes of war, and yet, with war to wage, officers can’t be playing wet nurse. If something is not done, why, the army will be drowned in a black tide ...”
“But, Colonel,” I interrupted, taking a pace forward and putting myself back in his line of sight. “I know the men in this regiment. I was with them at the camp of instruction; we drilled together. I prayed with