The farewell speeches had been given and the men were drawn up in parade formation, ready for the order to move out. Colonel Culpepper, the most splendid-looking man of all in his gray-and-gold uniform, was the only one mounted, sitting importantly on a prancing white charger. Holding a flashing saber up in the morning sunlight, he gave the command that moved the regiment out.
“Bexar Fusiliers!” he shouted, calling out the preparatory command.
“Battalion!”
“Company!”
The supplementary commands echoed up and down the long formation.
“Forward!”
Again, the supplementary commands echoed from the battalion and company commanders. “Forward!”
“March!” Colonel Culpepper finished with the command of execution.
The drums began the marching cadence as the regiment moved out. Their departure was met with cheers and applause, sprinkled here and there with last-minute good-byes as families called out to their loved ones by name.
“Bye, Carl, Joe, Syl!”
“You be careful, Abner!”
“George, you write to me!”
“Kill lots of Yankees, Tommy!” The last was from a younger brother, and it caused titters of laughter to ripple through the ranks.
“Now, Tommy, don’t you go an’ kill all them Yankees. You save some of ’em for us,” Syl teased, and Tommy the young soldier flushed in embarrassment.
“Yeah, we don’t want you gettin’ all the glory for yourself,” Carl added.
“Quiet in the ranks,” one of the officers ordered.
Within ten more minutes, the regiment could no longer be seen, though it could still be heard. The rhythmic beat and roll of distant drums and the measured cadence of shuffling feet lingered over Military Plaza.
Every able-bodied cowboy employed by Long Shadow had marched out with the regiment, leaving the ranch without any hands to run the place. Despite that, James continued to feel a twinge of regret for not having gone himself, though the twinge wasn’t strong enough to make him change his mind. He crossed the plaza, considered going into a cantina, but chose the saloon instead.
Chapter Five
Near Corinth, Mississippi
Friday, April 4, 1862:
Colonel Nelson Culpepper and his eager but as yet untested Bexar County Fusiliers reached Corinth, Mississippi, on the fourth of April. The Texans were but a small part of a growing Confederate army just south of the Mississippi-Tennessee border. Arriving almost simultaneously with the Bexar County Fusiliers was General Braxton Bragg and his ten thousand battle-proved veterans. In addition, the governors of several Confederate states had answered Johnston’s call to provide more men, so that the army grew to an even greater size. The commanding general of all the Confederate forces in the field at Corinth was General Albert Sidney Johnston.
Just across the border, in Tennessee, the Union army, under General Ulysses Grant, was also collecting troops for what was shaping up to be the biggest battle of the war thus far.
Giving his men permission to rest in place, Colonel Culpepper reported to General Johnston.
“Colonel Culpepper, I am pleased to see you,” General Johnston said, greeting the colonel. “You wouldn’t have any information on the whereabouts of General Price, would you?”
“No, sir, I’m afraid I don’t,” Culpepper replied. “We came here directly from San Antonio, Texas.”
Johnston stroked his cheek and nodded. “Yes, and you are very welcome. I just hoped that, by chance encounter, you might have some news. The addition of General Price and his Missourians would ensure us victory here.”
“General, don’t overlook the fact that these men are Texans,” Colonel Culpepper said, loudly enough for his men to hear and respond with a cheer. “I think we will more than compensate for any Missourians that don’t show.”
Johnston smiled, then nodded. “I’m sure they will,” he said.
“Where do you want us, General?”
“You will be under my direct command,” Johnston said.
“Thank you, sir. I consider that an honor.”
“Do you have an aide, Colonel?”
“I don’t have an aide, sir, but I do have an orderly. Private Abner Murback.”
“Is he a good man?”
“Yes, sir, he is a very good man.”
“If you wouldn’t mind, I wonder if you would attach him to me temporarily,” Johnston said. “My aide has taken ill and returned to Jackson yesterday.”
“Well, yes, sir, I suppose I could,” Colonel Culpepper said. “But then you would have a private for an aide, and you are a general, sir.”
“You say Murback is a good man. Would he make a good officer?”
“Yes, sir, I suppose he would.”
“Then, if you recommend it, I will promote him to second lieutenant.”
“I would be glad to recommend it, but we already have a full complement of officers in the regiment.”
“I’ll carry his commission against my staff, that way it won’t reflect upon your regimental complement.”
“Very good, sir,” Culpepper said. “Murback!” he called.
Abner, who had been seeing to the colonel’s horse, hurried up when he was called.
“Lieutenant, you will be attached to my staff until further notice,” General Johnston said.
“Lieutenant?” Abner replied.
“Yes. I’ve just given you a commission.”
Abner smiled broadly, then came to attention and saluted the general. “Yes, sir!” he said. “Thank you, sir.”
After the brief meeting with Culpepper, Johnston left, signaling Abner to come with him. With good-natured teasing and catcalls from his old regiment, Abner left Colonel Culpepper and his fellow Texans, to follow General Johnston.
“General, uh, exactly what does an aide do?” Abner asked.
“It’s a pretty simple job, Murback,” Johnston replied. “You just do what I tell you to do. Do you think you can handle that?”
Abner laughed. “Yes, sir, well, I have a lot of experience doing that, so I reckon I’m your man all right.”
Abner followed General Johnston into a large and elegant two-story farmhouse that was being used as his headquarters.
“Are you hungry?” Johnston asked.
“Yes, sir, a little. We were about to have supper.”
“Well, you’ll be messing with the headquarters staff now,” Johnston said. He nodded toward the kitchen. “I think there is some cold chicken left, and some coffee. You are welcome to it.”
“Thank you, General,” Abner replied. He walked into the kitchen and started to pull back a cloth that was draped over the food on the table.
“Here, Private, what are you doing there?” a sergeant asked, harshly.
Overhearing the remark, Johnston stuck his head back in the kitchen. “Cooper, this is Lieutenant Murback. He is acting as my aide-decamp. See if you can find a lieutenant’s blouse for him.”