Thicker Than Water

The Confederate regiment crossed a stream laced with the blood of both Confederate and Union soldiers. No use in slaking dry, thirsty mouths here. In the far reaching distance one could hear the thunder of canons and the echoing cries of the dying and the wounded in the valley below. Every so often, one could take in a breath of peace and tranquility. For a moment the canons, the muskets, the battle cries, and the cries of the wounded and dying would stop and give way to birdsong and a gentle rustle of the wind upon the leaves.

Marquis Fugate ignored the rumblings resounding in his stomach. With dwindling resources, supplies were low. Marquis' commander had made a decision that whatever funds were available would go towards weapons first and last, which meant items such as foodstuffs and clothing were considered a low priority -- at least within Marquis' Confederate regiment. Often when it came to food it was a policy of every soldier fends for himself. Although Marquis could not speak for everyone within the regiment, he knew as for himself that he had not had even a mere scrap of food for at least six days -- and the regiment had been on the march for eight solid days straight now with only the slightest of breaks for sleep and relieving of the bowels. Marquis didn't mind the lack of food so much. No, it was the sleep deprivation that took a larger toll.

"Lieutenant Fugate!" thundered the baritone voice of Marquis' commanding officer.

"Sir," Marquis responded in an even tone as he turned to face his superior.

"Fugate," the commanding officer continued, "I want you to lead a scouting party southeast of here. We've just received word from General Lee that thar be Union forces dogging our heels." Colonel Clinton Kilgore was an austere, imposing take-charge commander. At 6'5" he stood head and shoulders over nearly every man under his command. When he gave an order his men knew to carry it out at once.

"Yes, sir," replied Marquis. "How many men do you want for this mission?"

"I leave that up to you, lieutenant," Colonel Kilgore said coolly as he abruptly walked away.

Marquis and his five compatriots made their way with catlike stealth towards the glen just south of them. It had been two days but they had seen neither hide nor hair of the Union forces that General Lee's missive had warned of being in the area.Perhaps, Marquis silently pondered, this is just a case of bad intelligence and we're simply chasing midnight at the fourteenth hour.

As they neared the glen, Marquis' thoughts drifted off toward his beloved Kentucky home and to his dear wife, Lizzie. Kentucky had been a neutral state through much of this War Between the States, but finally had gone over to the North. Marquis, by his own will and volition, had run off to join the Confederate forces, leaving behind Lizzie, his beautiful wife of seven years, who was with child at the time, some eight months prior to Kentucky officially giving their allegiance to the North. He had long heard of the lauded war hero, General Robert E. Lee, leading the Confederate rank and file and felt that he could no longer stand on the fence of neutrality. Marquis didn't give a whit about slavery one way or the other, but rather felt the Northern aggression was unjustified and if Robert E. Lee stood with the Confederacy, then by jumping Jehoshaphat, so would Marquis Fugate!

"Hold it right there, boys," came a harsh voice from behind.

Marquis swiveled around and turned slightly pale. "Jordan Daniels," he said addressing the figured dressed in Union blue, "put down that bayonet 'fore someone gets hurt."

"Marquis, you fool," Jordan said still holding the bayonet towards Marquis, "I heard you ran off all half-cocked to join up with those blasted Rebels. If you weren't my cousin I'd probably run you through right here and now. But seeing as we're kin and it would break the heart of dear Lizzie, I'll give you a choice. You and your fellow traitors lay down their weapons and surrender real nice like and I'll let y'all live."

"Traitor," said Marquis with contempt, "the South just wanted to be left alone. It's those damn Union jackals and that Lincoln that are the traitors."

"Marquis, you've got no room for bartering with me right here. One last time, you and your fellow grey-coats lay down your weapons and surrender or there will be needless blood spilled on account of your headstrong pride."

"Damn you, Jordan," spat Marquis. "You heard him men drop your weapons before my cousin runs us through. "Marquis and his cohorts dropped their weapons to the ground.

Suddenly shots were fired. "You bastard, you damn bastard, Jordan," cried Marquis as he dropped to his knees blood trickling down his uniform.

Jordan dropped his bayonet and knelt beside his kinsman. "Marquis, where's the wound?"

"Stomach," he grunted. "And it hurts like hell."

Anger flared up in Jordan. "Who the hell fired those shots?"

"I did," thundered a voice from a Union soldier that stank of utter and complete hubris.

"Where the hell do you get off firing on unarmed prisoners," Jordan screamed. "My God, he has a wife and a baby!"

"Jordan," breathed the pain-laced voice of the mortally wounded Marquis.

Once more Jordan knelt down and looked his cousin in the eye. "What is it Marquis? Save your strength I'll find a medic--"

"No, won't do no good," gasped Marquis." Tell Lizzie...tell her I love her...tell her she needs to be strong....and tell..." Marquis slumped over and breathed his last.

Tears streamed down Jordan's face. "Oh God! Oh my God, what have I done?" He shook Marquis violently. "You can't be dead! Marquis! Wake up! You can't be dead! I told you we'll find you a medic! Damn it, Marquis, you can't die," sobbed Jordan.

A hollow and melancholy wind blew through the valley in the gloaming, bringing with it a chill that cut against the skin of those left standing in the glen. Jordan buried Marquis' corpse at the eastern edge of the glen. He turned to the men under his command. "You're on our own," he violently tore off his Union officer insignias and thrust them to the ground. "I'm no more a Union officer."

"Sir," said one of the Union soldiers, "you know the penalty for desertion."

"Aye, I do," Jordan said coldly. "Shoot me here and now if you think that best. But I am a civilian now." And with that Jordan mounted his horse and rode off in the distance.