The Deserter Read Online Free Page A

knew what was happening, the whole regiment was on its feet and obeying an order to march up a hill to attack a bunch of rebel cavalry. But it didn’t amount to much. By the time Otis and Lem and Rufe were halfway to the top, everybody turned around and marched down again.
    â€œLike Jack and Jill,” said Otis, grinning at Rufus and Lem, but they’d never heard of Jack and Jill. Thankfully, the men of Company E settled down again, bivouacking beside a little creek. Otis owned a piece of soap, so he stripped down, sudsed out his underwear in the creek, and put it on again wet, so it would cool him when he lay down.
    But in the morning the drawers were cold and clammy next to his skin. He had been awake half the night listening to the rumbling wheels of gun carriages on the Baltimore Pike and the clash of picks and shovels. The regiment’s band of Pioneers was hard at work the whole night, wielding axes to fell trees and spades to dig trenches. They shouted at each other as they dragged the branches into line to make breastworks. It sounded like hundreds of them yelling at once and rattling their picks against rocks and crashing heavy boulders down against the trees.
    Their noises were bad enough, but there was another noise that was worse, a tinny whine around his ears. Otis guessed there was a swale nearby because the mosquitoes were so thick. He pulled his blanket over his head and slept at last, but it was only a few minutes before he woke up to the sound of rebel caterwauling over there on the hill across the ravine, and a spattering of rifle fire. Sitting up, he was aware of a familiar knot of fear in his chest.
    Oh Lord, now they were all getting up again. Tom Robeson was urging them onto their feet. The whole damn regiment was shifting position, in fact it was everybody, the whole goddamn division. Otis did his part of the shifting with his eyes half-closed as the regiment climbed an entirely different hill and spread out in a thick new line.
    Unfortunately the new position was on the side facing the enemy. Otis chose his place with care, crouching down behind Corbett, the fattest man in the company. If any stray bullets found Corbett, they’d lose themselves in his spongy flesh and never come out the other side. Otis beckoned Lem and Rufe to huddle beside him. Corbett was so fat, there was plenty of room for three.
    But the day passed, and nothing much happened. They relaxed and rummaged in their haversacks for pieces of hardtack, and Rufe shared out his cold beans. Not until late afternoon did the artillery on both sides begin to make a racket. And not until dusk did the enemy start fighting in earnest, but luckily it was no concern of Company E.
    â€œWell, if that don’t beat the devil,” said Lem. “They’ve changed their minds again.”
    Sure enough, Tom Robeson was making huge “Come on, boys” gestures and first sergeants were running around giving orders. The entire First Division was supposed to hightail it someplace else, and in a tearing hurry, that was clear.
    Where, for Christ’s sake?
    Otis caught sight of the commander of the division, Alpheus Williams. He knew the general from afar by his big black slouch hat and the long mustachios that drooped on either side of his pudgy face. The general was right there in plain sight, looking anxious.
    Otis fell in with Rufe and Lem. As the sun sank lower and lower, they headed south. At first the three of them were somewhere near the front of Company E, but before long they edged to the rear in a clever way they’d worked out in other battles in other places.
    You just let the boys behind you turn into the boys in front.

SOMETHING
MAGNIFICENT
    T hings had been quiet enough where they came from, but all day they had heard the raging storm of battle to the south. Obviously, the men of the First Division were being called on to shore up something or other down that way, whether they felt like it or not. Otis was