Camellia (2 page)

“Now!”

The single syllable catapulted Jonah to his feet. He ran without thought, almost propelled forward by the movement of the troops. They ran full tilt, up and over the ridge where the enemy soldiers were gathered. Cannons behind them boomed, but Jonah ignored the sound, centering his attention on one target, a man with short brown hair whose mouth had fallen open. Part of his brain noted the broad forehead, the lock of damp hair, and a pair of brown eyes wide with fear. Jonah reached for the rifle flung over his shoulder, bringing it around to his chest in one smooth movement. Tugging slightly on the trigger, he felt the movement as it began to move under the pressure.

A bullet whined past his ear, and one of the soldiers on the ridge crumpled. Still hesitating, he lifted his head slightly and realized the men on the ridge were running away from the charging soldiers. Jonah thought the battalion might prevail without further casualties until one of their officers began shouting. The fleeing soldiers halted and reached for their own weapons, apparently only now comprehending they could defend themselves.

Realizing the battle was not yet over, he sighted once more. His eyelids fluttered as he squeezed the trigger. The carbine slammed against his shoulder, and the intense fear that had been his constant companion for the past hour disappeared as the unfortunate man he had targeted jerked.

A surprised expression tautened the man’s features. His rifle drooped as he looked down at his chest, at the dark stain spreading on his uniform. Then he looked up. His gaze slammed into Jonah. A scowl clouded his features. He raised his weapon a few inches before his features went slack and he crumbled to the ground.

Dead. The man was dead. He would never rise again, never laugh or speak or march again.

Horror filled Jonah as the realizations hammered him with the impact of the bullets flying between the two groups of men. He seemed frozen in the midst of the fierce fighting even though men continued to fire all around him. The sounds of battle faded, lost in the midst of the insistent ringing in his ears.

Nausea welled up, mixed with grief and remorse. He doubled over, and spasms shook him, turning his skin cold and clammy. When he thought the nausea had abated, he tried to push himself to his feet. But it was a futile effort as the horror overwhelmed him again, and his whole body convulsed once more.

It seemed to take forever before he regained control of his senses. Awareness of his surroundings crept back to him. The air was thick with smoke even though the deafening blasts of gunfire had been replaced by moans of pain.

Jonah pushed himself up and turned to survey the aftermath of the battle. Choking smoke hung low over the dirt road and clung to the few cornstalks remaining upright after the charge of the battalion. It blocked out the sun. Or had the sun set? Jonah wasn’t sure of anything.

A hand clapped his shoulder, and Jonah’s breath caught until he turned and recognized Cage, the dark-haired Arkansawyer who had befriended him when they met in Tennessee at the recruiting office.

“Are you all right?” His concerned gray gaze raked Jonah’s face.

Hot tears pushed against his eyes, but Jonah clenched his jaw and nodded. He would not cry like a boy in short pants. He was a grown man, a soldier. He had to be all right.

Cage continued staring at him for a few moments before he nodded and cleared his throat. “You dropped this.” He held out Jonah’s rifle.

“Thanks.” The single syllable scraped against his raw throat. When had he lost his weapon? A fine soldier he was turning out to be. Instead of reloading and killing more of their enemy, he’d run away. What if the battle had been won by their enemy? He’d likely be sprawled out on the ground, a bullet hole in his back. Jonah took his carbine from his friend’s hand.

“You and I have talked about the necessity of war before.” Cage nodded toward the road behind him. “We’ve prayed together about the Lord delivering us as He did the Israelites. ‘In the world ye shall have tribulation—’ ”

“ ‘But be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.’ ” Jonah finished the quote for him.

Together they walked toward the riverbank to await the short voyage back to Jefferson City. Jonah knew he should be thankful for having such a strong Christian example as a friend. Over the past weeks they had spent time poring over the Word, reading from Cage’s pocket Bible and discussing the significance of book, chapter, and verse.

But right now he wanted nothing more than to run from this world. To go back to New Orleans and the privileged life he’d enjoyed there. Why had he ever left home? And given the circumstances of his departure, would he ever be able to return?

“I don’t know how we got separated on the way back.” Cage’s familiar drawl brought Jonah’s head up.

Jonah could have told the other man he’d purposely searched out a corner on the crowded steamboat and turned his back on the soldiers. Shrugging, he looked toward the center of their encampment where, in spite of the warm evening air, the other soldiers sat laughing around a blazing campfire. Even if Cage was a close friend, Jonah didn’t want to admit the shame keeping him apart from the others.

Cage looked at him for a moment before handing Jonah a tin plate and settling himself on the nearby trunk of a fallen hickory tree.

“You shouldn’t look so glum. We won the battle this morning.” Cage dug into his plate of beans with gusto. “According to what the others are saying, the Missouri State Guard has been routed. We beat them with a minimum of bloodshed, at least on our side. General Lyon has succeeded in subduing the Rebels before they could infect the whole state.”

“I guess so.” The words had little meaning tonight. Not when the memories were so sharp in his mind. Jonah knew he wouldn’t be able to force a single bite of food past the lump in his throat. He picked up his hardtack and turned it over and over in his hand.

“Do you think you’re going to find any answers there?” The other man’s voice held a note of sarcasm.

Jonah shook his head and let the hard biscuit drop to his plate. “I’m not hungry.”

“I see.” Cage swallowed another mouthful.

Feeling his friend’s gaze even in the deepening gloom, Jonah shrugged. “I can’t get it out of my head. He was so young, so shocked …”

Cage’s spoon clattered as it struck the edge of his tin plate. “That will pass, kid. And it’ll be a little easier the next time.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good thing.” Now that the words were out, Jonah wished he had not voiced them. Would his friend think he was a coward? And wouldn’t that be a correct estimation? Tendrils of shame curdled his stomach as he thought of his reaction during the battle. The only reason he had not died was because the Lord had protected him for some unfathomable purpose. Jonah stared at the unappealing food on his lap and waited for Cage’s condemning words.

“Jonah, you’re reacting to the battle. Give yourself a little more credit.” He nodded toward the group of men some distance away. “Do you think they condemn you? This was your first battle, and I assume the first time you killed something other than game.”

“If I could’ve found the strength, I would have run away.” Jonah’s confession brought a tiny bit of relief. He looked up at Cage and saw understanding in the other man’s eyes. He tightened his jaw to dam the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

“I know. Taking another man’s life is a thing no Christian should have to face. But this world belongs to Satan. Remember what we read last week. Why do you think Paul spoke of the armor of God?” He closed his eyes for a moment, his eyebrows drawing together. “ ‘Wherefore take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.’ ”

The verse washed over Jonah like a wave, cleansing some of the fear and shame that had hung over him this evening.

“And Paul was in prison when he wrote those words.”

Jonah closed his eyes and imagined being held in chains. The fear, the discomfort, the uncertainty that must have tried to settle on Paul. Had God whispered in the disciple’s ear as he looked at the Roman centurion guarding the prison? Had He suggested the comparison that Paul would send to the Ephesians? They were words to sustain Christians by reminding them of God’s protection even in this world of battles and rampant sin.

“Do you remember the different parts of the armor?” Cage’s voice brought him back to the present.

Jonah thought for a minute. “Is truth one of them?”

Cage’s grizzled head bobbed up and down. “That’s right, and the breastplate of righteousness, boots made from the gospel of peace, a shield of faith, and the most important part of all …”

“If I remember rightly, it’s my salvation.” Jonah was feeling better than he’d felt since they had come back to camp on the bank of the fast-flowing Mississippi River.

“Yes.” Cage’s infectious smile was as bright as a beacon. He leaned over and rapped Jonah smartly on the head. “The helmet of salvation to be exact.”

A chuckle filled his throat. It felt good to let it loose. For a moment his grief and shame lifted. Jonah almost felt human once again.

One of the other soldiers, a private with blond hair and a mustache, walked over to them. He bent and glanced at Jonah’s full plate. “You going t’eat that?”

Jonah shook his head and started to hand his plate to the lanky man, but Cage grabbed his wrist before he could finish the motion. “You’re going to need that food. You didn’t eat much this morning. If you give away your supper, you may not last another battle.”

The thought of future battles made Jonah’s stomach clench. He looked at Cage, recognizing the experience in his gaze. He glanced up at the private. “Give me a few minutes to decide.”

The man spat at the ground next to Jonah’s left boot. “I never thought you Johnnys should be allowed to join.” He stomped away and rejoined the men around the campfire. A couple of them glanced back toward Cage and Jonah, suspicion showing in their faces.

“I should have just given him the food.”

“We can’t buy their trust, Jonah. It’s only natural for them to be suspicious of us. We are Southerners after all.” Cage sighed and shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe one day they’ll understand why we refused to fight with the Confederacy. Until then, we have to remember why we’re Federal soldiers.”

He knew Cage was right, but sometimes it was hard to bear. Had he done the right thing to volunteer his service to the Yankees? Yes. Jonah could not support slavery on any level, even though he dreaded the idea of facing a friend or relative on the battlefield. Would his convictions force him into killing someone he knew? Jonah prayed not.

Cage’s grunt interrupted his circling thoughts. “Private Benton will survive. There’s plenty of forage if he’s hungry.”

Jonah picked up his hardtack and gnawed at it. Letting the tough biscuit soak up the moisture from his beans only softened it a smidgen. His thoughts seemed as hard as the food in his mouth. It was fine to talk about the armor of God, but it still didn’t answer all the questions and fears that had arisen because of the battle. “What does the Bible say about using weapons to kill someone else?”

“David was a great warrior, wasn’t he?”

“Yes.” Jonah was somewhat surprised by the question. Everyone knew about David’s many battles.

“Wasn’t he also called a ‘man after God’s own heart’?”

Of course.
The oppressive doubt and shame lifted from Jonah’s heart, if only for a moment. He might not be as strong as David, but he could still spend time reading the Bible his sister had given him for Christmas last year. Once again he regretted not bringing it with him on his trip to visit his brother, Eli. But he’d never thought he would go from Memphis to the front lines of the war between the North and the South.

Eli had tried to dissuade him from joining, but Jonah had been adamant. He had known his reasons for volunteering were valid. Too bad he’d never imagined what his choice would cost him—his self-confidence, his pride, and perhaps even his life.

Jonah lifted his thoughts heavenward and prayed his sacrifices would matter. And he entreated God to someday see him in the same way He had once seen David.

The food on his plate seemed more palatable after his prayer. Jonah filled his spoon and lifted it to his mouth, savoring the smoky flavor. Even his hardtack was tastier. His appetite reawakened. He shoveled in another mouthful and chewed. Energy flowed through him like a rising tide, and Jonah realized once more how blessed he was to have such a strong Christian as his friend.