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The Davis Farm
Chapter 1 Soldier Boy
by roccodadom44
roccodadom6969@yahoo.com
It sure wasnt what I expected, not at all. Having volunteered for the Union, out of Massachusetts, where I had been a seaman on coalers, I wanted to see the organized majestry of war, mid eighteen hundreds. I also wanted to avoid being conscripted under the new law passed earlier this year,1863. There is a thing called being to eager, and I was. Stationed in DC guarding buildings, getting lots of pussy and booze, somehow bored me, if I only knew. That I managed to get a swap to the 16th regiment, Vermont, under Brid Gen George Stannard, started a chain of events that still leaves me pondering the fickle nature of life.
We were heading to Pennsylvania, to reinforce Meades army at a place called Gettysburg, then a nondescript village and farm land. It was late June, 63, I had seen no enemies, except prisoners in DC, all this endless marching was getting to me, like cattle aimlessly roaming. I needed adventure, I missed sailing a full coaler through a northeaster, I was not cut out to be a cow, led here and there. Life on a ship was not great, but it was familiar, this army life was all chaos. There was roughly six thousand men in the Vermont brigrade, maybe one hundred knew what was going on, in any degree. The rest of us just fed on rumors and wishes, as we blindly marched on, heading for God knows what.
Christ, it was all so spread out, that was my reaction as I looked down upon Gettsyburg, its sweeping farm lands, leading to the ridges and mountains to the west. It was something, my reg getting picket duty,loved being out in front, where there was danger, I thought I liked it, be a hero. The rumor was that johnny reb was just south of here and we needed to stop him here or all the north was subject to war. Stannard was at least a man of action, in no time he had the whole brigade strung out across a ridge, Cemetery ridge, not a good omen, bad name, had the men digging and building like maniacs, to be dug in was to be safe, to a degree,so much more confident behind a wall.
It was funny, the whole march everyone kind of went through the motions, but now that we knew there were rebs coming this way, the energy level soared, everyone wanting as much protection as possible. Much better to be behind shelter as the enemy came towards you, as I surveyed the field and rise the enemy would need to cross, I felt good about our chances. They would be coming up a treeless swath of rocky land, making their approach slow and in the open, fuck them, hard to figure if I could make that march.
Fuck yeah, I got a horse detail, sometimes timing is everything, an officer asking for volunteers who rode, headed off to find the enemy pickets, full of myself. There were five of us in the detail, we were all rookies, so it was bound to get fucked up, it did. I was studying the lay of the land, to figure a way back, while following the four riders in front. The suddeness of it all was stunning. Guns blasting from seemingly everywhere. Seeing the guy, riding to my left front, head explode from a rifle shot, was surreal, my instinct was to turn and bolt back to our lines, I did. So much for hero shit, I had the horse galloping, as I lay low on his back, I headed for a little growth of trees.
Wow, I really had wet myself, that sucked. It was so quick, violent, and quirky, it could easily have been me who got his head blown off. Looking back towards the engagement I took notice of the number of rebs, at least thirty, and saw that all my guys were dead, or captured, so I flew back to camp with the report. It wasnt until I gave my report that someone noticed the blood on the back of my neck, I had been grazed by a bullet and not even known. That really unnerved me, I was already done with this war shit. But the officers had other plans, thats the thing about war, if you do stuff, they want you to do more stuff, if you do nothing, they expect you to do nothing. Fuck, I was noticed, soon as I had a quick meal, I was back out probing for the enemy.
Well early on July first, the enemy showed itself, its whole self. Everyone saw them from the ridge, it was majestic, as they marched forward, thousands and thousands, flags flying, music pounding, dust for miles, they had what seemed like a thousand cannons moving forward. Jesus, we had maybe six thousand able bodies on this ridge, hoped the rebs wouldnt try to overpower us here. Getting a mounted message post was great, I spent the next three days riding behind our lines,out of direct fire, which didnt mean cannon balls were not crashing all around me. The sights and sound of a full scale battle were immense, at one point the whole arena seemed engulfed in smoke, could barely breath, with rebs appearing here and there as they approached our lines, like they were already ghosts. I wondered, again, if I could march across a field like they were, constantly under cannon and rifle fire, watching their comrades go down, at a sickening pace.
Having been back to HQ often, by Sunday, I knew we were on the verge of either victory or defeat, the rebs had only the will for one more charge. That they would waste such quantities of men and horse was staggering, Picketts Charge, was a slaughter. Twelve thousand charged, seventy five hundred died, died for nothing, the rebs were retreating at full speed. Johnny reb had made it to our lines several times, but the cost to him was hideous. To watch cannons, loaded with grapeshot, being fired point blank into the faces of oncoming men was obscene. Mens bodies seemed to rip apart, their limbs and heads, flew in the air, turning the smokey air a dull red, colored with the splattering blood, of the fallen. To look down on that carnage was beyond description, as the sound of the guns silenced, the cries of agony filled the air, I needed room. Fortunatley I was assigned to follow a bunch of fleeing rebs that went west towards Waynesboro, as the command wanted to make sure they went south soon, and not north.
Being relatively fresh, with full rations, ammo, and water, made my job easier, as we crossed Waynesboro, johnny reb swung south through Dogstown, Pa., we kept a safe distance between the reb rear guard and ourselves, no one wanting a fight. But war is messy, as stupid as it seems, we crossed another Union picket, everyone started shooting each other, just outside Hancock, Md. To survive Gettysburg in pretty good shape, just the neck scratch, then have some asshole from my side drill my right bicep was a kick. Thanking my early years on a farm outside Boston, I managed to stay mounted and headed for cover, rode till I reached what I knew to be the Potomac river, there I rested my horse and checked my wound.
The bullet went right through and this was good, but I needed to stave off infection, so I made a mud poultice and bound the arm in cloth. That was it, either it healed or it got infected and I died, such is life. The river water felt great, I risked a naked bath, figuring it would help restore my fatigued body and clean my filthy skin. My cock was hard, I realised it had been a month since I had gotten laid in DC. Wow, it is was good to see my cock was ready to move on, the rest of me wasnt. That night I slept under a cliff on the river, lulled by the gentle sounds of the flowing water. My fire was hidden by the overhang, I ate well, as I caught a fat fish I couldnt identify, but it tasted great, just the same. It would seem to be an ideal place to sleep, but the horrors of the last three days started to flash in my mind, I was a mess of emotions. Joy at surviving was tarnished by the horror of the bodies strewn across the field, the elation of winning was tempered by the sadness of riding by the field hospital and seeing the baskets of amputated arms and legs. War was not majestry, it was ugly and random.
Having gotten several hours of deep sleep, started the day with energy and a clear head, though my right arm was stiff and still throbbing. Cooking oatmeal and a biscuit, I pondered my next move. If I returned to camp, they would send me off on another mission. If I stayed in the field, drifted slowly south, I would be doing my duty, to follow the retreating rebs, all the while relaxing and trying to stay out of harms way. The thunder of the moving rebels was still audible, as well as the dust from the thousands of feet in motion, but I judged them to be at least ten miles ahead, I was sure my guys were right behind them, cattle after cattle, I was in no hurry to join them . My goal was to find a good hideout, so I could get twentyfour hours of rest, my arm was not right, my body needed real rest, a bed for fucks sake.
It was beautiful country I was riding through, green and lush near the river, begging to be cultivated, yet this land was deserted. All the farms were smoldering ruins, the fields stripped, not a soul in site, not even a stray farm animal. There were plenty of dead bodies, rebels, civilians, cows, all just rotting, like as if the devil had come through town, himself. Looking at the mutilated bodies of two young girls, they had been raped and tortured, I recalled this area was split between reb and Union sympathizers. Wow, they had cut off the old mans balls and rested them on his forehead, sick bastards. As I stood pissing on the naked cunt who lay with her legs spread, I figured I wanted to avenge these ladies, and hoped that such a chance I might get. Johnny reb was getting lazy, they left a perfectly good machette buried in the back of the old man.
It seemed like a good idea to head back near the river, as I might pick up a friendly patrol boat and head back up river to camp. Also, I was getting edgy being on the road and near towns, even burnt ones, who knows who is hiding in this confusion, rifle aimed at me, even now. What a way to live,realized these people, who forever made their lives here, were in the middle of a real civil war, neighbor against neighbor. For them this war would never end, they would spend decades avenging past atrocities. That was the thing, how could anyone trust anyone else, it was all so fucking pointless to destroy such naturally fertile lands with years of bloodshed, over niggers. Yeah, not many of us blues cared about that shit, just the jesus freaks. I thought slavery stupid, ultimately self defeating, as I had shipped with many colored mates, the maritime trades were very intregrated, at least north was. The coloreds, for the most part, were like any one else, so I knew that at some point even slaves, would revolt, slaves already outnumbered whites, by three to one, in the south.
The riverside was easy trotting for the horse, soft yet firm grass,made good time, to good time. From years of scanning the horizon for the tiniest hint of land, while at sea, my eyes were strong and true. I saw them first, six walking rebs with sacks of contraband, an obvious pillaging party, guns slung over their shoulders, completly halfassed. Not being a hero, I was not seized with any desire to attack them, but rather I dismounted and went deeper into the brush along the river, so as to spot a chance for some easy marks.Shit, they were heading right towards me, then I noticed the shed twentyfive feet ahead of me, they slanted that way as they approached the river. Mentally, I Knew I had my rifle, good for one shot, my pistols five each, and I longed to use the machette.
My body was doing, my mind was watching, thats what it felt like, as I silently crept upon the six rebs, who should of at least posted a watch, lazy bastards. They were awful interested in what was in the shed, decided to just use the pistols. I had fired three shots each, before they started to get what was happening. Not a one of them got off a shot, as I went a round looking at them I was excited at the violence, no doubt about it. It bothered me, but I was consumed by it, loved that four of the rebs were stone dead, two with head shots, thats good shooting. Two were breathing, the nearest,a fat bastard was spurting blood from a gut shot. He wasnt even trying to get to his gun, mere feet away, I felt loathing for his giving up, quickly ended his ride with a head shot.
The last survivor, was a fucking kid, I mean fifteen or so, skinny, dirty, with a bad thigh shot, he was bleeding out, slowly. Dragging the dead rebs behind the shed, I looked in and laughed at what drew them in, they had found a hidden cellar full of smoked hams, booze, and gold pieces. Hell yeah, this could be a real good thing, if I could conceal the money, but gold is heavy. Burrying most of it near a bend in the river, I kept enough to help me out, packed a few hams, and some booze onto my horse, and stripped the reb who was my size and put his uniform in my pack, just in case I needed to switch sides quick, wasnt afraid to adapt. Their guns were all shit, threw the bodies into the cellar and went and got the kid, who was crying and pleading to live, not likely. I stripped him roughly, he had a hairless feminine body, I was horny, we worked it out, I raped him. I took him over a nearby downed tree and he was tight and fiesty. I rutted him with anger and violence, savoring his cries. When I dug my fingers into his thigh wound, in and out roughly, his ass muscles massaged my cock to a thundering climax. I threw the used kid into the hole as well, alive, setting the shed on fire, I started south down the river quickly, to avoid any reb search parties, feeling like I did both my country, and myself, a great service.
Sometime you just know what to do, like today, as I was riding south. It came to me to climb a nearby oak that had to be one hundred feet high, my years climbing ships rigging paying off. The view was wide and far, was glad my hunch paid off. There was a town about a mile ahead and I could see that the whole reb army had stopped there. There were reb picket, scouting, and pillaging parties everywhere. Shit, I needed distance, as I looked across the Potomac, I saw no people, only a small, quiet farm up a long road from the river, a road that was not very visable as you walked past it, sensed a place to lay low while johnny reb makes up his mind. But how to cross, I could see no fordes nearby, the current was strong enough,there was no doubt that I could swim it, but I hated to lose the horse, or the hams and booze. Taking another look at the enemy, they were all on this side, and appeared to have no attention of crossing as that would put them back into Pa. One last look about from my lofty perch, rewarded me with the sight of a large Union army heading straight for the rebs, who were all moving in different directions, having seen the union armys approach.
They had time, though, the blues were noisy as thousands tend to be, and the rebs were moving fast straight south and the Union army was veering southeast, so as to stay on johnny rebs tail, but allow room to change direction. So I climbed down the tree, with the expectation that there would be no battles, and I only had to find a way across the river,decided to rig a guidon to lead the horse over, something that required four trips across the water for me, so I was tired when I finally secured the horse, led him across the water, his bucking to a minimun. It was worth it, better to have a horse and lose it later, than never to have had one, what. Now I needed to go on foot though, so I hobbled the horse near water and good grazing, headed silently up towards the quiet farm. The barn was first and it was small, with a little hay loft and just two stalls, both empty. Climbing in a window, I scouted it out, it was empty, the stalls contained no fresh manure. Looking out the loft I spotted the kid running towards the house, about thirteen, carrying a rifle. The door was opened by a woman, saw at least one other person behind her, to do this would be dicey, to say the least.
Figuring night would be best, I decided to head back and bring the horse up to the barn, and I did with no trouble, though a Union patrol boat passed within feet of the horse, causing it to whinney, the morons never even heard it, damn glad Im not relying on them. Smiling, I never considered flagging down the boat, I realised I wanted to find out what goodies were in that cabin. I was horny, needed some baser fun, that reb cunts were made for. Of course if they were Union folks, I knew I would still have my way, war truly, was hell. The approach to the barn was concealed from the house, I put the horse in the stall with water and some oats, prepared to assault the house. It was sunset, I could see the smoke from the chimney, the light from the fire, through the rough hewed shutters, covering the windows. Feeling the pain in my arm, got me pumped that I needed to do this as quickly as possible. prayed the sun down
the end
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