150 Years Ago

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jwhouk
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150 Years Ago

Post by jwhouk »

1 March 1865, somewhere in Western Kentucky...

A jolt woke him for about the sixth time since he'd tried to get some sleep. The train had slowed again, and he was starting to get very annoyed. He and the other five soldiers from the 44th were supposed to be in Louisville by morning, but at the rate they were going? They'd be lucky to get to Bowling Green by noon.

He leaned back, raising his cap momentarily off his receding hairline, and peeked out the window, under the drawn shade. They had come through another garrison checkpoint, from the looks of it. Soldiers were up and down the line, practically the whole way from the Cumberland to the Ohio, making sure rebel spies weren't trying to blow up the central supply line for Union forces.

That thought startled him awake. He'd been pulled out of his picket patrol over along 2nd Avenue, along the wharves and loading docks, to be brought before Captain House at headquarters just outside the Capitol grounds. What he hadn't expected was to see Colonel Symes, their regiment commander, and his adjutant, LTC Bissell.

They needed five soldiers to accompany a "person of interest" from Louisville to Washington. He and the other four – Austin, Dashnoi, Hatch and Hough – had been chosen because all were single and were perceived to be "arduous workers with exemplary records." Which meant, at least to him, that they hadn't screwed up in the few months since they'd enlisted.

They had been tasked with the duty of accompanying a prisoner exchange of some sort; a high-profile rebel prisoner, someone who was high ranking in the CSA Navy. Corporal Austin had asked the obvious question: "What's a Navy man doing in western Kentucky?"

"Tryin' to get to Canada," was all the Colonel could say. The Naval Department headquarters had wired back after his capture to bring him to DC for a tribunal. Whoever he was, they wanted to talk to him – and they had been chosen to do the duty.

So there was a hastily arranged passage on the L&N line through Kentucky. Passage was proving slow, as there were frequent checkpoints and garrisons from Union Station in Nashville, all the way here to…

…Huh, Bowling Green station. They had made progress on the night.
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Re: 150 Years Ago

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The miles rolled by slowly on as they took the trip north. As they did, he got very little sleep. The train's jostling, along with the constant stops, made it a rough ride. After one stop, he found his head had barely leaned back into the blanket roll he used as a pillow before he was in some surreal dream.

Two people were dancing to some strange medley, in what appeared to be the drawing room of some large library. The dance was a slow, sensual one – one that was strangely arousing to him. The woman was this mousy blonde with pince-nez glasses, while the man was nothing much to look at.

The two danced to some hauntingly beautiful tune, by some unseen band. He couldn't place the song, but it was mesmerizing. The man turned, looked directly at him, and said, "Wake up Watts! We're here!"

The loud voice of Corporal Austin snapped him awake. Austin stood there in the aisle, smacking at the back of his bench seat.

"We're here, Watts," he said again. "General Sheridan is expecting us at the Churchill farm."
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"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Re: 150 Years Ago

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Some hundred miles north by northeast of Bowling Green, a rather rawboned forty year old man in ragged Sailor's uniform sat in a near empty horse stall. Just outside the door were two staunch 19th Indiana 'Black Hats'- another pair patrolled outside the only window. They were relieved every two hours by a fresh set of faces- all with instructions to NOT speak with him under ANY circumstances, save to warn him of his imminent death. It was as if the whole of the 'Iron Brigade' was sent to keep watch on this pitiful wretch who walked with a limp. He had passed himself off as 'Lester Mulchahey Carson', paroled ex-CSN Sailor... complete with papers of parole, signed vow of non-aggression and letter of pass from General Phil Sheridan.
He was always quite gifted at forging a signature, and had suffered the misfortune of serving under 'Little Phil' out in California at Ft. Redding, while serving as Cavalry Scout for the 4th Army... but the vainglorious Officer's loopy handwriting became a valuable asset, as he was able to 'authorize' any number of activities and procurements with issue with the (then Captain) unaware of the true culprit. He had no respect for the man, describing him as having 'Delusions of adequacy'- the Captain having gotten his promotions through political manipulation while his own stripes were earned from his experience, included the Mexican War and more than a little Indian exposure. The fact that the Captain kept a Squaw, who he treated horribly, did nothing to further any respect that might have occurred- one does not bare flesh to those one wishes to control or bring to submission.
His trespass upon the Captain's authority eventually came to light after nearly six years- the Courts-Marshal held promise of a public whipping as well as dishonorable discharge.

Then word got out that Sumter had been fired upon... and fallen... and the nation was at war with itself. Somehow, in the confusion, the man call Marty Younger disappeared from Union authority and joined the new Confederacy.
And so, armed with his finest efforts to fool the Union troops and get into Canada, he bluffed his way with these fine papers to a Union Captain of Cavalry... who in turn went to his superior... who in turn went to HIS superior... and came back with a General.

General Phil Sheridan.
Last edited by Sgt. Howard on Mon Feb 24, 2020 2:17 am, edited 3 times in total.
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Re: 150 Years Ago

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The first thing he heard upon entering headquarters was a loud, consistent stream of cursing. His fellow soldiers - all enrobed in much cleaner, much crisper looking uniforms than his own - were looking around nervously as they tried to maintain their guard posts.

He and the other four from the 44th were ushered in by an aide, one wearing a short coat and ear muffs. At first he thought perhaps the ear muffs were to ward off the chill that permeated the northern Kentucky area. When the door opened, though, it was obvious it was for another reason.

"SON of a BITCH MOTHER LOVIN' BASTARD from HELL he IS!" came the roar from behind the desk. Two other aides, along with a gentleman in a long, dark coat and a hefty beard, stood in front of the desk. Upon their arrival, all turned - allowing him his first full view of Major General Philip Sheridan.

He snapped to attention faster than he realized. Austin, being their superior, saluted.

"Sirrah," Austin spoke with his voice cracking a bit. "44th Battalion reporting for duty." This was let out by a long series of more curses. He wondered when the general was going to rise and walk around to greet them. This was answered when he saw him – his head not even moving from behind the desk – walk around from behind toward the five.

"Well, Billens, here are the flunkies you asked for," he said toward the man in black. "I'm sending with papers – not blasted FORGED like that bastard was constantly doing – indicating that the man should be HUNG FROM THE NECK if he were to ever be considered USELESS by Stanton and company."

"I assure you, sir, that Secretary Stanton does not consider him useless at all," the bearded gentleman said in a monotone voice. "And our Mister Carson…"

"YOUNGER!" Sheridan raged out. He saw the General raise his arms in frustration – which had the effect of making him look twice as tall as he was. "BASTARD's name is YOUNGER! Foul stench was one of my ENLISTED in CALIFORNIA!!!"

"We're aware of that, sir," Billens said quietly. "And that is why these four have been asked to accompany him back to Washington, so that he receive a fair trial."

This was met with a shout of frustration from the General.

Billens turned to the five of them. "You gentlemen are now under the jurisdiction of the US Marshall's service." He pulled out a badge from his coat pocket and showed them. "Agent Jebadiah Billens. You will be escorting me and our… person of interest…" He looked in the direction of the general. "…to Washington DC for a proper interrogation. At the conclusion, you will all be released to your unit."

"Uh, begging your pardon, sir, but isn't there a war we're supposed to be fightin'?" Austin was hesitant in his query, pointed more toward the General than Billens.

"General Sheridan here is supposed to be on his way to join his cavalry heading back to the eastern front," Billens explained quickly.

"And that's the ONLY reason why I'm lettin' you take the BASTARD," he said. "I got deeper fish to fry." He raised his hand again, waved his own soldiers out, and headed out the door of the office – with them in tow. Leaving the five of them alone with Billens.

"Well," Billens finally said as the stream of curses faded. "I guess that takes care of the transfer of duty." He looked at the five of them. "Gentlemen, time is short. We need to have this gentleman in our Capitol before the rebel one falls. I will explain on the way." He reached out, shook each of their hands. "It will be good to work with all of you, I'm sure."

---
They fell in behind Corporal Austin as the five walked the path from the house to the main farm on the Churchill Estate. The smell brought back the memory of a horse pasture outside of his hometown of Beloit.

Hough commented that the smell made him think the wind was coming up from Madison when he was back home. Dashnois didn't comment. Hatch was too busy covering his face with a handkerchief that his wife had sent from home.

They rounded a small grove of poplar trees to arrive at a huge barn – one that had an interesting adornment on the top. Two tall, rectangular spires rose up toward the sky on both sides of the entrance to the barn. On both sides of the entrance were a series of stalls, facing inward, that extended in both directions.

"Damnation," Austin commented as Billens called a halt to speak to a soldier at the barn entrance. "There must be room for a few hundred horses here."

Billens turned and ushered them into the door on the side of the barn. "The Churchills are thoroughbred enthusiasts," he explained patiently. "Most of their stock is rather useless for the war purposes. Much like a pellet gun is useless against a cannon."

The barn was well appointed, despite the lingering smell – which wasn't as strong here as it was outside. There was a large, open area in the middle, under the spired roofs. To the left and right were doors leading to separate paddocks for horses. Ahead on the right was a large storage bay, which even he could tell was for hay and oats for the stock. On the left was a two-story structure, and a rickety stairwell leading up to a loft where there was an observation balcony. The balcony, he could tell, looked down both paddocks. It was also lousy with soldiers.

Billens led them to the left paddock, where the smell seemed to diminish a bit. As they walked down the center path where normally horses would have trod, he noticed that the paddocks had bars across them. It took him a moment to realize they were in some sort of temporary holding area for prisoners.

"Treatin' prisoners of war like horses?" Hatch commented as they walked the paddock. "Not much further to Andersonville's horrors, I'd reckon."

"There's only three of them here," Billens said in reply. "Those two are going to be transferred within a week. Our subject is ahead."

At the far end of the paddock, there were a gaggle of soldiers, all standing stock still and quiet, their rifles in the air. The paddock stall where they stood appeared a bit different than the others – outside the fact it was set apart. The bars, for one, appeared to be slightly gilded, and a plaque indicated something about Churchill Farms.

The soldiers all peeled away as Billens walked through them, with the five of them in single file behind. Then, after the two soldiers standing directly outside the stall made way, Billens called out.

"Younger. Your escorts are here."
Last edited by jwhouk on Sat Oct 03, 2015 12:09 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: 150 Years Ago

Post by Sgt. Howard »

The man called 'Marty Younger', or 'Lester Carson', looked up as the door opened. These were not 'Black Hats'- and from 'Little Phil's' outbursts, he surmised that these tired, roughshod veterans were to escort him, along with a Mr. Billens, to Washington D.C. for 'debriefing'. He was no longer able to resist- between ill rations and a wound that would not heal, he had been whittled down to 100 pounds. His threadbare suspenders threatened with mutiny every time he stood up. The brogans on his feet were two different sizes, and both were made for a left foot.
But even more importantly, the cause for which he was fighting was lost. He knew it. The young nation died on the vine in four years. He expected any day to hear of Bobby Lee's surrender.
He would co-operate. There was nothing else to do. When Lincoln proclaimed the slaves to be free after the Union fiasco at Fredericksburg, the war took a different meaning. Prior to that, England and France saw slavery as something both sides wanted, just that the North didn't want it in their back yard. The 'Emancipation Proclamation' turned it into an Abolitionist's War'- Neither Queen Victoria nor Napoleon III would give support to the Confederacy when the Union sought freedom for those in bondage therein.
It was all for nothing. He had fought a good fight, but he had chosen the wrong side. It had happened before... and, if he could get back to where his satchel was hid, it was possible that it might happen again. Such were the chances he took.
"How do, gentlemen," he said in a soft voice, " I trust you were well received by our courteous commanding General?"
Billens stepped forward- "you will remain silent for now," He turned to the men of the 44th- "This man has more aliases than all of the bowery in New York City. He speaks more languages than you can name and can mimic any dialect he hears. His skills as a pickpocket are impressive, as well as his fighting abilities. Do NOT be deceived by his appearance! This ... fellow... has tricks that even the US Marshal's Office can only guess at,"
'Marty' looked up and smiled, "Why, Sir, you make me blush..."
Last edited by Sgt. Howard on Sun Oct 04, 2015 6:25 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: 150 Years Ago

Post by jwhouk »

As the five of them moved into the paddock stall to surround the prisoner. he found himself right next to the man. Billens interposed himself between the soldier and the prisoner, and leaned in at the comment to say something barely audible.

The others couldn't quite hear it, as they were trying to avoid stepping in anything in the hastily converted stall.

But he, Oscar Watts, heard Billens' reply clearly.

"Shut up, Cornelius."

This caused him to tilt his head - and had the effect of silencing the prisoner.

"You will escort this man up the Ohio," he turned, handing a set of keys to Austin, "and take him to rail port upstream to DC, to be handed over to the Marshall's office on K Street. Once there, you'll be escorted back to your unit." He handed the chain that bound the prisoner to Dashnois. "Here, you look to be the strongest of this bunch. You're in charge of his restraints. You two," he pointed at Hough and Watts, "remain by his side at all times - and check your pockets regularly to make sure he hasn't taken anything of value. And you - " This time he pointed at Hatch. "Your job is to shoot the bastard's legs if he tries to run."

"And Corporal," he turned to address the unit leader. "Keep those keys on you and away from him at all times, will you?"

"Sir yes sir!" Austin came to full attention - and promptly dropped the keys on the floor of the paddock.

Billens allowed himself a look heavenward before motioning the group to move out, with their quarry amongst them.

Austin brought up the rear after scrambling to retrieve the keys.
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Re: 150 Years Ago

Post by lake_wrangler »

I had read the first few posts without commenting, now is the second time I visit this thread.

While I had not particularly thought about it beforehand, the moment I saw the title of the thread, followed by the first line of the first post, I figured it made sense, and had to be expected...

At first, the narrative seemed to be from some unnamed person's point of view (using "he," "him," and "his" a lot.) This may or may not be Neil. But whether it was, or he was to be introduced later, the story had to be about Neil, and the famous Southern Belle with whom he had become quite enamored, and who, in the end, died altogether too soon. Further reading made uncertain that the first person introduced could be Neil. However, I did not expect the prisoner to be Neil, as I didn't expect him to be a turncoat. I guess I was wrong. I mean, I figured it could be, as nothing seemed certain yet, and Neil has used plenty of aliases in the past, but I didn't think it was he. Until he was explicitly named, of course...

This has been an interesting read, so far, and quite up to the same standard of your other stories, which is no mean thing.


I had to smile, at the reaction of the soldiers when they smelled the horse manure... It brought to mind one time when I was asked to drive a church bus for a youth group that was going to a weekend retreat. Partway through the ride, we passed through some farmlands, which rapidly became quite evident... And while all the teenagers were gagging, moaning and complaining, I was breathing in deeply, and reminiscing of the times when I used to work with horses... :mrgreen:
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Re: 150 Years Ago

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'Marty' was totally taken aback- THIS man, this 'Billens'... called him by his actual name! A name he had not used since... well, he really wasn't sure of the date, but it was shortly after the crucifixion of the anointed one- fluke? Perhaps... he had originally thought the Federals wanted him regarding his knowledge of the 'Hunley'... certainly he had no trouble with the idea of telling them all he knew about that little episode. While this particular execution was a best shaky, the premise... the idea... was sound. Perhaps with better equipment...
But THAT was not a primary issue right now- if 'Billens' knew who 'Marty' ACTUALLY was... there had been those before, who had searched for him. There were those who knew he existed. Whether passed down Father to Son, or perhaps a group of immortal creatures- like she. Except that she proved just as capable of dying as any mortal... may Aurelian's bones burn bright green through eternity...
He stopped himself- she died centuries ago, he needed to let her lay in peace. Sixteen centuries ago, or thereabouts- one looses track after a while. Amazing- Sally (who he was to marry) died of fever just last month, yet he still mourned Phix as if her death was also recent.
Back to the situation at hand- He was being transported to DC. He had been 'rescued' from Sheridan. 'Billens' seemed to know who and what he was and what he was capable of doing.

'Wait and see' seemed the only prudent course...
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Re: 150 Years Ago

Post by Sgt. Howard »

lake_wrangler wrote: However, I did not expect the prisoner to be Neil, as I didn't expect him to be a turncoat. I guess I was wrong. I mean, I figured it could be, as nothing seemed certain yet, and Neil has used plenty of aliases in the past, but I didn't think it was he. Until he was explicitly named, of course...
It had already been established that Neil fought for the Confederacy- that he might forge papers to escape the collapsing situation is hardly a surprise. By this stage of the war, desertion was becoming wholesale. Charleston Harbor is in Union hands. The North had spies in the vicinity and knew something about the Hunley (and who was involved) and therefor Neil became a 'person of interest'. The prisoner was nothing more than a tired Ex-Confederate who saw no further purpose of the war... in the eyes of those Union troops who saw his paperwork.

That he usurped Sheridan's authority while stationed in California is simply because he had no respect for the man. That he abandoned his post to fight for the Confederacy- well, he had a lot of company there... plus, facing a Courts-Martial against a vindictive little fellow like P. Sheridan- yea, the Confederacy sounds pretty good right about now. Remember that the Roman Soldiers often had to choose what Emperor they were fighting for on the fly- If you chose wrong, you were executed... and usually your commander made the choice for you. He sees himself as being from the Shenandoah, so there's his allegiance.
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Re: 150 Years Ago

Post by lake_wrangler »

Interesting. And thank you both for the backstory, and for an insight into his character.
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Re: 150 Years Ago

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The steamer trip up the river was to be of little consequence. Once they reached the docks, their itinerary was given them by Billens. They were scheduled to set in at the Queen City on the second, then up to Parkersburg on the fourth.

"No travel on the fourth, of course," Austin pointed out. "There'll pro'ly be a speaker recitin' Old Abe's inauguration speech from the telegraph wires."

Hough rolled his eyes. "I voted for McClellan," he said.

"Hell, I didn't know you wuz old enough to vote, peach fuzz," Dashnois laughed.

Hatch grunted as the cart with the prisoner made its way through the streets of Louisville to the docks. Their prisoner wasn't saying much, but that wasn't unusual.

Oscar, though, had a million thoughts running through his mind, not the least of which was why in the world he was chosen for this duty. He was a nothing, a nobody from a small Podunk town in the Midwest. About the only thing important he'd ever done in his life was when he found that old arrowhead outside his dad's shop.

What had bothered him the most, though, was their prisoner. He'd seen him before – in the dream. He was dancing with the woman. And the name he heard Billens say. Cornelius? He didn't look like a Cornelius. He didn't look like much of anything, to tell the truth.

The cart arrived at the docks. Billens motioned to Austin and Hatch to disembark first. He stepped out, his revolver pointed casually at Younger – or whatever his name really was – and motioned to Hough and Watts to lift him up and out of the cart. Dashnois was the last one out, holding the prisoner's chains like a leash.

Dashnois was liking this duty perhaps a little too much, in Oscar's opinion.

The walk to the docks was relatively short, and their accommodations on the ship – the Queen City Belle – were adequate. They were given a port-side suite, with two rooms – one with two bunks, another with chairs and a bunk. In the middle of the one room was a metal support post – a solid metal beam.

It was decided by the Corporal that the four privates would rotate duty with the prisoner – two on, two off. Austin would switch off with Billens to mind the door to the suite.

"No one is to enter or leave without permission. He is not to talk to anyone other than us. And you are to search your belongings before and after your watch – as will he." A look was exchanged between Billens and the prisoner, even as the latter plopped down on the one bed, exhausted.

"You won't get any complaints from me," he mumbled as he closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep. Dashnois was still holding his chains, which he latched to the support post. Billens slapped a padlock on the chains, securing them.

The prisoner didn't budge at all. He was off and sleeping.

Hatch volunteered to stay up for first watch. Dashnois stated he wasn't sleepy, and would join him. Hough motioned to Oscar to the bunk in the other room.

The two bunks weren't exactly reminiscent of the Waldorf Astoria, or anything like that. But to two war-weary soldiers who hadn't seen a real live bed in weeks, they were heaven.

Moments after searching their effects and laying down, both Hough and Oscar were fast asleep.
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Re: 150 Years Ago

Post by jwhouk »

~~~

There should be a small reveal at this point. In case you didn't catch it earlier, all five of the soldiers are from the 44th Wisconsin Regiment, though from different companies within the unit. All five have some small connection to myself, though there is one who has a more direct relation to me.

One of them is my great-great grandfather.

I'll let you all figure out who.
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Re: 150 Years Ago

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'Marty' had been scouting his captors quietly ever since they left Churchill Farm- four privates and one corporal from the 44th Wisconsin. An odd group. They didn't really know each other. Of course, they had no clue as to why HE might be 'of interest'- doubtless these fellows were chosen because;
1) they had decent military histories from a disciplinary standpoint
2) they had not distinguished themselves in battle, nor had they run from the enemy and
3) they were considered 'expendable'
'Billens' of course was another ball of wax- if Billens was a 'Federal Marshal' then 'Marty' was a cocker spaniel. Doubtless in 'Marty's' mind, Billens wanted the elixir of life, the means by which 'Marty' had lived so long. He contemplated this... he had lived through the ages, thumbing his nose at death so long he was beginning to wonder why. He had fought Yankees over the past four years... prior to that, he fought Mexicans in Texas and Mexico itself. He had fought Seminole Indians. He had fought the British- TWICE- before that he fought the French and the Iroquois. He fought the Spanish- on several occasions at that- he fought the Huguenots, the Medicis, the Saracens, the Saxons, the Britons, the Mongols, the Vikings... and he shipped WITH the Vikings... he fought with the Hibernians... and the Hebrews. He had a multitude of wives and lovers, all believing him dead, with a trail of children across his path.

Why?

He didn't like where his thoughts were going- go someplace else...

He had been sizing up his captors, as stated before. He looked at the two presently with him-
The one called Dashnois was the heavier of the two, and except for the lack of fire injury to his hands he looked very much like a blacksmith- he also seemed a bit more arrogant than the average smithy. Big and broad, he had spent a great deal of his life moving heavy objects by brute force- choosing him to 'hold the leash' actually made sense. The boy was made for the job.
The other one, Hatch, had the classic 'ruddy English boy' look with a strapping body to go with it- not quite the mass of Dashnois, but certainly not to be underestimated. Of the two who chose to retire, Hough seemed to be the most likely to advance in rank if for no other reason than his desire to decide quickly what was to happen- commanders look for that and often award stripes to those who do not wish them, but the odds are in your favor of producing decent NCOs this way. Austin, the corporal, wasn't even worth a second glance. Whoever promoted him made a mistake. A Gangly jug-eared youth with a beard that a cat might lick off, he had no more capacity for command than he could carry a cannon.
Then there was Watts. Watts had ... something... intangible going on. A very average looking fellow, a bit shorter than most with a premature receding hairline. As soldiers go, he was completely unremarkable... but there was something there, beyond the soldier.
'Marty' would keep an eye on him...
Last edited by Sgt. Howard on Tue Oct 06, 2015 9:04 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: 150 Years Ago

Post by jwhouk »

And now, how we tie this puppy in to Wapsi Square:
---

So don't forget who's taking you home, and in whose arms you're gonna be, so darling, save the last dance for me…

The music had been the first thing that Oscar recognized in the dream. But now, he heard the lyrics clearly. The pair were dancing yet again – this "Neil" gentleman, and the mousy blonde with the pince-nez glasses.

He looked around. It was the same grand hall, with checkerboard tiles and books on shelves for as far as the eye could see. And yet, these two were dancing as if it were natural. As if it was nothing out of the ordinary.

As if they were… married.

"They're a cute couple, aren't they?" A little girl, wearing what looked like a simple white toga and a gold tiara, appeared next to him.

"Is that him?" he heard himself ask.

"Of course it is, silly," the girl said. "You were at their wedding, remember?"

This concerned Oscar greatly.

"I'd remember if I had," he said to the figure – who was somehow inexplicably melting away as he watched.

"What..." was all he could get out before he got a tap on the shoulder. He turned – and saw this huge beast sitting there on her haunches.

It was quite obviously a female – she had some strange bandana-like top covering her chest, but her lower extremities looked like a lion, and she had these long and wide wings, like an eagle.

"Mom's right," she said. "You were at the wedding. Don't you remember, Joe?"

"Who?" Oscar was dumbfounded. The pair were still dancing to the music, and swung silently toward him.

"My grand-daughter is correct," the mousy blonde said to him as she was dipped nearly backward by the man. "Your gift was extraordinary, as it was simple."

"I never thought I would find her again," Neil said to him – and it WAS him.

"But… but you're not…" was all he could stammer out.

"Shhhh," came a voice from behind. "The answers will come when you reach Parkersburg. You'll understand."

He turned. A woman – an Asian woman, someone in a changsan and hair done up like she'd stepped off some Junk boat in Hong Kong. How he knew that… he wasn't sure.

"You're a special one. He won't find her immediately, but find her he will. And you'll be there to celebrate with us."

"But… Who?"

Suddenly, the blonde woman transformed into a being like the one with the bandana – a golden wingspan to match her hair. They suddenly flew off into the air.

"No… no… I thought I was so close…" He realized it was Neil who was talking. "I can't let her get away again… No…"

"What?" Oscar was looking at the weeping form of Neil, who was on his knees on the ground, bent over…

"WATTS!" He was jostled hard by a hand. He bolted awake. It was Dashnois.

"Yer up for post," he said. "Get decent and go watch sleepin' beauty in there. I gotta get me some shuteye."

He roused himself enough to get dressed quickly. He'd had strange dreams in the past, but never anything like that. Wordlessly, he threw on his coat and boots, grabbed his revolver, and headed out into the other room.

Hough was already awake and at post. Austin was asleep on the chair in the corner. Billens was sitting up, wide awake, staring at the figure on the bed.

"That was strange," he said under his breath. "It sounded like he was crying in his sleep."

Watts only gave the Marshall an odd stare.
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Sgt. Howard
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Re: 150 Years Ago

Post by Sgt. Howard »

Watts and Hough took seats opposite of the prisoner on the lowered bunk- Corporal Austin continued to snore while Billens continued to eye the prisoner- eventually, he turned to the Privates- "I'm heading to the closet- keep an eye on him," and left.
Once the door closed, Hough turned to Watts and asked, "Watch him, eh? Suppose he'll do tricks?" and turned his head to the porthole. In short order, the heavy breathing from Hough turned into a steady soft snore, leaving Watts as the only one awake. He looked intently at the prisoner's eyes... there were tears there... he HAD been crying! As he marveled at this, one eye opened!
"I am THAT interesting?" he asked with a smirk.
"You've... you've been crying in your sleep," Oscar stated weakly.
"That should not concern you, " he replied, "My sorrows are not contagious,"
"Cornelius? Your name is Cornelius?"
He looked at him for a while before answering- "Once... once long ago... that name is dead,"
"But the girl- the girl you were dancing with..."
His eyes went wild "...what ... girl..."
"I dreamt about you and a girl, a short-haired girl with square, pinz-nez glasses, dancing to a song I had never heard before. She turned into a winged, half-lion..."
"...a sphinx.. yes, go on... "
"... the song... something about... "save the last dance.."
"for me," he finished, "Yes, I am Cornelius. Exactly what that means is not very important right now- what IS important is this- what did she say?"
"Uh... I was at your wedding... uh .. she liked my gift... ummm... you will not find her immediately, but find her you will,"

Cornelius stared into his eyes for but a short time, then tears flowed freely down his face as he shut his eyes.

"You... have just saved my life... thank you..." and he dropped into a dreamlike state.

Oscar was totally confused.
Last edited by Sgt. Howard on Sat Oct 03, 2015 11:42 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: 150 Years Ago

Post by lake_wrangler »

Sgt. Howard wrote:Oscar was totally confused.
And so he should be... :mrgreen:
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Re: 150 Years Ago

Post by Sgt. Howard »

The rest of Oscar's shift was without event... for which he was quite thankful. Hough did wake at one point and tried to pretend he had only JUST dozed off while Corporal Austin continued to snore in a most obscene manner. Billens returned to check on circumstances, found nothing of import, and spent the time smoking a Wheelen Marsh just outside the door. Their prisoner slept peacefully with a rather ... contented... look on his face. Oscar himself often had to get up and move around, between the soft, rhythmic 'thump-thump-thump' of the paddlewheel and the gentle rock of the boat, alertness seemed quite difficult to achieve after a spell.
Finally, the requisite two hours had passed- Billens verified it with his watch, stepped in and told the two to fetch their reliefs. As they rose, he then stepped over and Jostled Corporal Austin awake- "You're up, lad- hit the bivy and let me sleep," Groggily, the Corporal found his way to the closet while Billens settled himself in the chair.
Both privates found their counterparts in the adjacent room and sent them to their duty station... after a remarkable amount of noise and profanity, particularly on the part of Dashnois, who seemed reluctant to follow orders. Once threatened with intervention of the Marshal, he became quite compliant if sullen. Hough and Oscar shed their jackets and kicked off their brogans and slipped into warm bunks...
Oscar prayed for a dreamless night.
Last edited by Sgt. Howard on Tue Oct 06, 2015 9:05 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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I speak fluent Limrick-
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Re: 150 Years Ago

Post by jwhouk »

He didn't get it.

The waves and the paddleboat lulled him to sleep instantly – and a second later he found himself in the Library.

This time, he knew it was a library – the Library.

And there, seated before him, were the two sphinxes he saw before.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" the brunette-haired one said.

"Certainly," the older one with the glasses said. "Now, Joe – Oscar – we need you to make sure Cornelius gets where he's headed."

"You mean Washington?" Oscar asked.

"Yes," the older one nodded. "There were some… mistakes… made in the past. But this time, he's on the right path. And you need to be on the right path as well."

"Yeah, heh, that's on me," the younger one said.

"Anyways – the one you will meet once you're off this boat." The older one looked at the younger.

"Yeah. Her name is Jin. I don't know what she goes by now, but she will definitely respond if you call her that."

"Like Billens did with Cornelius?" Oscar asked. He noticed that the Library had faded away, and he was now in what looked like a forest.

"Something like that." The younger sphinx now looked older, larger. And the other sphinx – gone.

"Wait, where'd she go?" Oscar felt turned around.

"She can't be here long." A rough, hardened voice came from behind him. He turned and saw a little girl – who looked something like the younger sphinx, at least in her face – but she looked dirty, in rags, disheveled.

He remembered an orphan he'd seen wandering the streets of Nashville after his unit had pulled in to Union Station. She just stood there, looking into the faces of all the soldiers as they got off the train.

One of his companions had told her to get away, leave – but she stood there, holding on to the pillar of the station's awning, staring at…

…At him.

"You don't get it, do you?" The little girl looked at him, anger building on her face. "You're part of something. Something bigger than you. And if you don't get your ass in gear and HELP this…" Oscar couldn't quite make out what she said… "…then things are gonna get WAY out of hand. Again. So get your ass to Washington already!"

The little girl then dissolved into a vapor, and he was left standing on the train platform in Nashville. He tentatively picked up his bag and his rifle, and started to walk…

…But where? There was no one else here in the station. The train was gone. The platform had turned into a long path – a walkway, ascending slowly into a mist.

He started walking, because that was all he could do.

As he did, he heard that lilting medley again: So don't forget who's taking you home, and in whose arms you're gonna be…

His pathway suddenly turned into a wooden dance floor. There was a girl over in the corner – a dark haired girl, young, attractive. He walked up to her.

"Would you care to dance?" he heard himself saying. She nodded in affirmation.

"My name's Mary Ann," she said as they walked off to the dance floor.

The two danced together – slowly, caringly, lovingly, to the tune he had been hearing constantly in this dream…

…A dream…

"Watts!" He heard a voice behind him.

"WATTS!" It was Billens, shaking him awake. "Time for your watch. And for the love of God, could you please rouse Dashnois for me?"

Oscar was suddenly wide awake. He saw that Billens was sporting a fresh bruise on his left cheek.

"Damn bastard gave me a right hook when I tried to wake him."

Oscar tried to stifle a giggle as he pulled his boots back on.
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Julie
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Re: 150 Years Ago

Post by Julie »

This is so damn intriguing!
"Just open your eyes
And see that life is beautiful."
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lake_wrangler
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Re: 150 Years Ago

Post by lake_wrangler »

jwhouk wrote:And now, how we tie this puppy in to Wapsi Square:
You know, even without this tie-in, I would have been happy with the story, seeing it as more backstory to Neil whom I have come to consider part of the Expanded Wapsiverse...
(Yes, you heard it here first, folks! Wapsi Square has an Expanded Wapsiverse! :mrgreen: )
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