"Good afternoon, Gentlemen." Charlie seated himself at the head table, and immediately a plate of simple beans, rice and pork was set before him. "Lets get right to it today, as I know we all have much to do. Company A, report, please."
Charlie worked his way around the tables, receiving updates on the status of each company in their various duties. There were the normal issues –– supplies, problems with the boots, a few lame horses, a few men under the weather and the long term problems of men with serious injuries slowly returning to health. Charlie had intentionally blended the men together, so that some of the forces from the western troops were included in each of the Companies, to bring them back to strength.
After all of the officers present had briefed the Colonel on the status of their companies, Charlie asked after the missing Major Montgomery.
There was a rustling around the room. Most of the men present had heard Montgomery’s comments last night as the man was polishing off another bottle of redeye whiskey. He had seen the lady up at the main house and wanted her for himself. His words had been harsh. "Who was this damned Colonel to move in, take over their Pennsylvania Regiment? It is bad enough that the man is a prude, but to embarrass me in front of the damned Southern whore is unforgivable. I will have the woman, and a Bucks County man for the regiment or I am gone from here."
"I see. None of you are willing to tell me? Is it because he is one of your own and I am the stranger imposed on you by the War Office? Or is there something else I should know?"
At that moment, Montgomery’s Lieutenant came bursting into the tent. "Excuse me, Colonel, but the medic is needed." Charlie nodded to his chief medic. Albert Samuelson was not officially enlisted but instead was part of the Surgeon General’s medical forces. Because of his quasi-military status, he was afforded the honors of a junior officer.
"For whom is the medic required, Lieutenant?"
"Major Montgomery, sir. His horse went down under him, sir. I am afraid it is pretty bad."
"We will talk of this later. Get your Major taken care of now. I will be along in a bit."
As the medic and the young lieutenant left, Charlie turned to the other officers in the room. "So, will you tell me now?"
The senior officer from the original Pennsylvania troops, Major Swallow, cleared his throat. "Well, Sir. Montgomery’s not been right since The Wilderness. He lost almost all of his forces in one day –– men he had grown up with, friends and family. He used to be a gentle man. But since then, his hatred of southerners has obsessed him. To him, the women are whores, the men are bastards. He has had a problem with you from the beginning ‘‘cause he thinks that you are a southerner from your accent. Then you defended the lady up at the house. That was sort of the last straw for him. He was in his cups last night, and then up early this morning to take his company out."
Charlie listened without comment, and with a perfectly blank, neutral face. "Thank you, Swallow. Do any of the rest of you share Major Montgomery’s concerns or attitude?" Charlie stood and walked the room, looking into the eyes of each man there.
"Do any of you question my commitment to the Union, which I swore to uphold when I took my oath 19 years ago and have reaffirmed every four years since then? Do you think that because I have the accent of a South Carolinian, my love of this nation is any less than yours?" Charlie’s voice was deceptively gentle. The questions were asked as if he were genuinely puzzled and trying to figure out the situation. The barbs were buried deep.
He paced the room, stopping to look in each man’s eyes, an open look of questioning on his face. Ruminatively, he continued, "You know, I signed on in Philadelphia in 1845, and faced the blood and rain and sweat and fear of Buena Vista in ‘‘47." He moved to the next man.
"There were 4,700 of us. Santa Ana had over 20,000 men. Still, we won." As she looked into Major Andrews’ eyes, he flinched at those odds.
He moved on. "From there, I worked my way up in the Army, one step at a time. When we stood in mud for weeks in front of Vicksburg, where I was born did not matter."
Charlie watched as several heads dropped, each man had his eyes focused on the table before them.
"When I first met with you in hospital and reserves in Maryland after the Wilderness, you seemed to welcome the fact that we wanted to keep the 13th intact and fill your ranks with experienced troops, rather than disband your regiment. Where I was born did not matter then."
The Colonel paused for a moment and swallowed before continuing.
"When we stood with General Sheridan at Cedar Creek, it did not matter. When your guts seized up because you were drinking bad water, and I saw to it that you were all cared for, it did not matter. When our own turned on us at Brandy Station, where I was born did not matter. So if you have a problem with me now, tell me."
Charlie had completed his circuit of the mess, and stood behind his seat at the table. A long silence gripped the room, as these men, who had been through hell and back recognized that their new Colonel had seen things and done things as horrific as they had in the name of the Union. An embarrassed rustling and surreptitious eye contact among some of the senior officers was all Charlie needed to see. In a much gentler voice, he released them from their discomfort.
"Gentlemen. Shall we assume this conversation never happened, and was never needed? Now, we all have much to do. For your information, I am off to see what I can do about securing us at least decent winter quarters. I plan to check on Montgomery before I go."
Charlie walked out of the mess tent, stopping to have a word with one or two of his officers as he went. If Montgomery had let his obsession get out of hand with the troops, Charlie needed his commanders to find it and dig it out before it created irreparable rifts in his organization. In the spring campaign ahead, these men would have to work together as a well-oiled machine. It was time to start making sure there were no broken cogs in the workings.
He hurried over to the infirmary, where the medic was working feverishly over Montgomery. The damned fool had ridden out on an unordered scouting trip while he was still drunk. His batman was there, looking grim and disapproving. His lieutenant was looking sickened.
Charlie caught the medic’s eye and got a neutral shrug in response to his unspoken question. Montgomery’s condition was questionable at best.
The lieutenant was fading. He was sweating and a sickly shade of nauseous green. Charlie took the young man outside of the infirmary tent. "Tell me what happened."
"Major Monty was…… I do not know. He was not right. He drove us all at a hard pace this morning, like he was looking for something or someone." The lad stopped to gulp at the water that Charlie offered him from the small cistern beside the door. "There was a fence that he drove his horse to –– it was not a coop, it was a hard fence –– stone base and rails. The horse –– that big buckskin gelding that the Major rode as a backup –– you know the horse, Sir, I have seen you ride him –– anyway, the horse refused. He turned him and tried again. The horse refused again –– and the second time, he threw Major Monty."
That glazed look came over the boy’s face again. His voice came out as a dull monotone as he spoke. "Major Monty grabbed the reins and hauled the horses head around, then took his crop to the horse –– from the ground. He cut him –– all around the head and neck. Cut him hard with the crop. Finally, the horse reared up and pulled the Major up with him. He fell back, and the horse kicked out. I could not see exactly what happened next, but they both went down, with the horse on top. When I cleared the horse, the Major was in terrible shape. The horse was in worse. He had a broken leg and one eye was gone. I had to put him down." The boy dissolved in tears.