Traitor

“Don’t make a sound,” whispered Reuben as he crooked his arm around the Rebel picket’s throat and clapped his other hand over the man’s mouth.

The sleepy man grunted as Reuben tightened his grip on his throat. The Rebel’s beady dark eyes looked at Reuben in terror. Another trooper grabbed the hapless man’s rifle.

So far, so good. They had managed to capture the Rebel without giving away their presence. Now they needed to sneak him away from the bridge without alerting the rest of the men guarding it.

Reuben dragged the man backwards from the bridge’s approach until they were safely under the cover of the woods. Releasing his grip on the man, he pulled out his revolver and pushed the man toward where the horses were waiting.

They needed to get him back to their camp as soon as possible. With luck, he’d provide some valuable intelligence. The troopers mounted their horses as Reuben kept his revolver trained on the prisoner.

“Start walking, Reb!”

“Kin we just talk?” asked the man. “I’ve got some federal script. Maybe we can make this right.”

“You a damn bounty jumper?” asked Reuben pointedly.

“No Suh, I jes sold me some stuff I found.”

“Found? Did you steal it? How does a ragged old Reb get Yankee money?”

“It’s a long old story. If’n I give ya a twenty-dollah gold piece, kin ya let me go?”

“Nope, I’m taking you to the Provost Marshal. Behave yourself and I won’t have to shoot you along the way. If you’re lucky, you’ll get exchanged for a real soldier.”

“Now, you know that ain’t right. I’m jes a po old boy who got conscripted. I don’t mean you Yankees no harm.”

“Last I heard, a ball from a Confederate conscript will kill you just as sure as one from a true believer. If you had any scruples, you’d have sided with the Union.”

The conversation kept up until the party reached the main camp of the Army. By then, Reuben and his squad had determined that their Rebel captive was a spineless piece of human excrement who would do anything to save himself.

On reaching their camp, a Sergeant from another Regiment took a special interest in the prisoner. He walked up to the man and looked him straight in the eye. The sergeant began to scowl.

“O’Brien? They caught you, you sonuvabitch.”

“Hold up there!” yelled Reuben as the sergeant lifted the butt of his rifle to strike the helpless prisoner. “That man’s my prisoner.”

“He ain’t no prisoner. He’s a bounty-jumpin’ traitor!”

O’Brien, if that was his name, looked terrified.

“OK, calm down. We can sort this out with the 3^rd Iowa Provost Marshal.”

“We damn sure kin. Wait ‘til I tell my captain who turned up.”

O’Brien hunkered his body down, trying to look inconspicuous as he was marched to headquarters. Not 5 minutes after the men reported to the Provost Marshal, two officers from the other regiment appeared along with the sergeant who had spotted O’Brien.

“That’s him. That’s O’Brien.”

O’Brien looked horrified at being identified.

“Deserter?” asked the Provost Marshal.

“Yes, and a traitor to boot,”

“I see the butternut uniform. That makes him a turncoat. What else did he do?”

“Let’s ask him. How’d you come to be in the Rebel Army?”

“I left camp to pick some huckleberries and got captured. When they found out I was born in the South, they threatened to hang me if’n I didn’t join their cause.”

“You’re a damn liar! You deserted so’s you could run off and spend that bounty you never earned. You’re such a sorry soldier that you ran the wrong direction when you deserted.”

“I ain’t no deserter and I ain’t no bounty-jumper.”

“We just learned you enlisted in a Connecticut outfit for the money. Then you deserted and joined our regiment to collect another bounty. The morning after you turned up missing, our supply train was ambushed. We think you told the Rebels about the train.”

“Tain’t so. I’m innocent. All I did was wander off in search of some better food.”

“Shut up!” The interrogating captain turned to the Provost Marshal. “I thank the 3^rd Iowa for catching this scoundrel.”

“Looks like I need to release him to your custody. What do you plan to do with him?”

“We’re still investigating, but I suspect we’ll have to shoot him.”

O’Brien stiffened at the thought of his probable execution. “Yer makin a big mistake. I ain’t done nuthin wrong.”

The three visitors escorted O’Brien back to their guard house. His court-martial took place immediately. Word reached Reuben that his former prisoner was to be executed the following morning.

The morning of the execution, Reuben joined several of his fellow troopers to watch the somber event. He felt a small pang of remorse that he had captured the one rebel soldier who deserved to be shot. Most of the other men he’d captured had been paroled.

They arrived at the other regiment’s assembly area early. The men formed up in front by companies for roll call. After muster, they made two U-shaped double ranks around the perimeter of the field. The lines faced each other from 6 feet apart. Reuben could see the freshly dug grave in the center of the U.

“I wonder how his folks are gonna feel?”

“He’s a bounty-jumper. Like as not, O’Brien isn’t his real name. Unless he told someone who he is, his folks ain’t gonna ever know what happened to him. They’ll think he was some hero that never came home from the War.”

“Helluva way to go, though.”

“Look! There’s the execution detail.”

The procession was led by the Provost Marshal, riding between the ranks. He was followed by the regimental band mournfully playing The Death March. Next came the execution squad of 12 armed men. An officer had loaded their rifles earlier. One contained a blank round. None of the men knew which. Next came 4 men carrying the coffin.

The prisoner, the Chaplain, and 2 guards made up the next contingent. O’Brien was marched through the ranks of his former comrades, hanging his head low. He had betrayed them. There was no use in looking to them for forgiveness. The march brought him past every soldier in the regiment. The firing squad was already in position by the time he finished his sad trek. The coffin was placed near the open grave.

“Sit!” ordered the Provost Marshall, pointing to the coffin.

O’Brien sat dejectedly on the edge of the rude box. A guard moved forward and prodded him into a more upright posture with his bayonet. The Chaplain began to pray.

Reuben was too far away to hear the prayer. He imagined, at some point, the Chaplain was saying, “May God have mercy upon your soul.”

Finishing the prayer, the Chaplain stooped to offer some words to the condemned. O’Brien nodded gratefully.

The Provost Marshall stepped forward and tied a handkerchief over O’Brien’s eyes. Then he pulled out the general order of execution and read it to the command. Finishing, he backed off and stood next to the firing squad.

“Ready! Aim!”

“Fire!”

Smoke and flame belched out of the rifles. O’Brien jerked backwards, falling haphazardly into the coffin. Both feet and one arm protruded over the edge. Reuben could see no further movements as the Surgeon approached. Checking for a pulse, the surgeon nodded to the Provost Marshal. The coffin bearers stepped forward and shoved O’Brien’s limbs into the coffin. Before he was buried, the entire regiment marched past his remains. Then they were dismissed.

No one spoke as Reuben and his companions returned to their bivouac. O’Brien’s death was just another sad chapter in the greater tragedy of the Civil War. There would be more. Many more.

Index- Unbowed: the Story of a Civil War Cavalryman– Unbowed: The Saga of a Civil War Cavalryman-Index – Outlaws, Outrages and Outright Lies