The soldiers unstacked their rifles and cleaned them. They packed their gear and settled down by the cooking fires and boiled what might be their last hot meal for quite a while.
Tim and Red shared a tent with Captain Kautz and Dawson but tonight they sat at the table alone. Tim had set out a candle in a bright brass holder. A faint breeze stirred the tent flaps, and the light flickered on the tin cups and plates. Red’s beard glinted in the yellow light.
Most of the boys had already struck their tents, but Kautz liked to keep things set up until the very last so he could spread out maps and do his work. He was short and fierce and powerfully built. He would sit for hours before the company went into action, his blouse open and his head bent, studying the map. He would pull his beard and fuss and fidget and suddenly get to his feet with his bristling chin thrust forward. “And that’s how it will go,” he would say and then smile frostily to himself. “If the Confederates will cooperate.”
Tonight Kautz was having supper with the colonel. Tim hadn’t seen Dawson since early morning. Everyone knew the regiment was to sail at dawn, and the camp hummed with talk of the fighting that lay ahead. The boys knew they were moving against Charleston, and most of them were eager to go.
The candle guttered as the two men finished their meal. Red cupped his hand around the flame and blew it out. In a nearby tent they heard a clatter of plates, and a shout went up. Tim leaned back so that he could see past the tent flap. A man was running wildly around a cooking fire, stripped to the waist. “It’s Corporal Steele,” Tim said. “Every company has a clown.”
Now Sergeant Fitch and some of the other boys joined the fun. They whooped and hollered and jigged. The firelight struck their bodies like a patchwork quilt. Tim smiled to himself.
A voice was suddenly raised above the din. A blond-haired man of middle height came into the light, with both fists clenched. “You men have work to do,” he screamed. “Clean your rifles and assemble your gear. Tomorrow we move up the coast.”
Tim said, “Dawson’s drunk as a lord.” He stood up and stepped outside the tent, moving toward the fire.
Dawson looked up, his chin trembling. “Lieutenant,” he said in a shaking voice, “are these your men?”
“Yes, Captain, they’re my men,” Tim said. “Their rifles are clean and they’re ready to go. They were just letting off a little steam.”