who he was with and Dennis told him the Second New Jersey Mounted Infantry, and felt himself beginning to play the part. He came to a row of food vendors along the edge of the barn lot, the sides of their cooking trailers open to offer fried chicken, catfish, hot dogs and hamburgers, different kinds of sausage, popcorn, soft drinks. He came to a row of blue portable toilets and was approaching tent stores now and the civilian campsites, grouped about to form a semblance of streets in the shade of old, shaggy oaks. He began to see more uniforms, mostly Confederate, a grungy-looking bunch in mismatched uniforms, different shades of gray, a few wearing kepis but most of them favoring slouch hats, some black ones, no shape to them. They stood around talking, their rifles in several tepeed stacks. One of them called to him, 'Hey, Yank, who you with?' and it gave Dennis kind of a thrill. That's what he was, a Yank, and told them Second New Jersey as he walked past.
He came to a sutler's tent, a big one with the front flaps tied back, a military store that offered uniforms and arms and everything that went with them, insignia, belts, cartridge boxes, canteens, a sign that offered BLACK POWDER RELOADING SUPPLIES. Next to the sutler's place was a tent store that sold Confederate battle flags and bumper stickers, statuettes of Jefferson Davis and the more famous Confederate generals; Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson salt and pepper shakers. There was a photographer's tent with backgrounds to choose from, flags, cannon, palm trees. And a shelter tent with a sign that said ENLIST NOW! FIFTH TEXAS VOL. INF. CO. E, DIXIE BLUES.
Union soldiers were wheeling a cannon through the shaggy oaks.
Dennis came to Diane, the TV lady, and her crew interviewing a couple in mid-nineteenth-century civilian dress: the woman holding a parasol that matched her light-blue dress with its hoopskirt; she wore a little peaked hat with a snood, and sunglasses; the man with a cane, white gloves and tall beaver hat. They played their part with dignity, walking around the grounds, stopping to be photographed, interviewed, Dennis wondering why they went to the trouble. He could listen to the interview and maybe find out. Hang around and talk to Diane. He decided to catch up with her later and moved on.
He saw drummer boys in gray kepis and remembered Robert talking about the one at Battery Robinett who picked up a pistol and shot the Rebel officer. He could not imagine kids this age, twelve years old, in combat. But they were. He saw a squad of Union soldiers, all in the same dark blue except for the three in Zouave uniforms, the red fez and the blousy red trousers tucked into pure-white puttees. He'd have to ask John Rau about Zouaves. Or Robert, who knew everything. Where was he?
Dennis came to the civilian campsites, a street of wall tents with awnings, canvas chairs sitting in front by grills set up with cooking irons, coffeepots hanging from the crossbars over the fires. There were camp tables of utensils, tinware, tin candle lanterns, wooden buckets, the women all in long skirts and aprons, some with hoops underneath, some wearing sunbonnets, Dennis again wondering why they would go to all the trouble. Unpack all this stuff, lay it out for two days, pack it up again and go home.
He saw the women as womenfolk off farms or from small towns doing chores and having a good time with each other, enjoying what they were doing. He came to a woman rolling out dough on a camp table: dark-haired, her face drawn, no makeup but nice-looking, thin compared to most of them.
'What're you making?'
Her head raised and she took time to look at him.
'Naughty Child Pie.'
'Yeah? What's in it?'
She said, 'Green tomatoes,' picking up her apron to wipe her hands.
'Why's it called Naughty Child?'
'You find out, let me know. I never made one before.'
Dennis started to ask her why, if this was her first try at it…
She told him it was her husband's favorite, the woman bringing a pack of cigarettes and lighter from the pocket of her apron. 'His ex-wife use to win all the big pie-making contests with Naughty Child. Till she left him.'
'He's hardcore, huh?'
'To the bone.' She lit a cigarette and looked at him again. 'Brand-new uniform-this must be your first muster.'
'First and last.'
She said, 'Mine, too. I'm Loretta.'
'I'm Dennis. Who's your husband with?'
'Seventh Tennessee.'
'Does he like to sleep out in the field?'
'Loves it. He prays for rain so he can have the experience. Do you sleep out?'
'I haven't yet.'
She said, 'Stop by tonight, I may have a piece of Naughty Child for you.'
He found General Grant's headquarters, three wall tents with awnings in the shade, Jerry sitting in a striped canvas beach chair smoking a cigar. He was in shirtsleeves but wore his general's hat with the gold braid. Standing near him were Tonto and a Latin-looking guy Dennis believed would be Hector Diaz, and two black guys he'd never seen before, all in Federal blue.
Dennis walked up to Germano Mularoni feeling for the first time in his life an urge to salute, and he did, he saluted.
Jerry said, 'Jesus Christ, you too? I've worn out my arm saluting. These people I never fuckin saw before in my life, they come by throwing me salutes. Where's Robert?'
'I just got here,' Dennis said.
The one he believed was Hector Diaz said, 'There,' looking off. 'He's with Missus. By those guys out there. Now they coming.'
A group of mangy-looking Confederates, seven of them, were standing out in the open in sunlight with their rifles, some with their arms resting on the upright muzzles, all watching Robert and Anne walking away from them.
Robert in gray, Anne in black, the skirt, the shirt unbuttoned in front, her streaked hair coming out of a red bandanna. She wore sunglasses. And now Dennis saw a Colt pistol holstered on her hip. They were closer now, Robert showing a checkered shirt under his open shell jacket. He was holding a cavalry saber, now and again swiping at clumps of brush with it. Walking up to them he said, 'Hey, my man Dennis, you made it. I was afraid maybe you deserted and we have to hunt you down and shoot you.'
Jerry said, 'Where you been?'
'I saw those Johnnies going by, I wanted to know was Arlen with them. The Fish was there but no Arlen. Me and Annabanana are being sociable till this one says to me, `Who's you-all's hero, Martin Luther Coon?' This primitive one with tobacco juice in his beard. I said, `No, my hero's Muhammad Ali, asshole.' He wants to know what did I just say? So I had to repeat it. 'Muhammad All, asshole. You don't hear so good?' Then he says he's gonna take my head off.'
'And stick it up your black ass,' Anne said.
'That's right, he did. I said to him, `You talk like that to a man has a sword in his hand? You want to fuck with me, take it up with my buddy General Kirkbride.' '
'He did,' Anne said, 'really. I had my hand on my gun the whole time.'
Jerry said, 'What'd you give her a gun for?' 'Let her bust some caps, see what it's like.' Jerry said, 'Queenie, put it away. You're gonna shoot somebody.'
Anne said, 'It goes with my impression.'
Jerry said, 'I never knew any hookers that packed,' and looked at Robert. 'Have you?'
'Yeah, I have,' Robert said. 'Long time ago.' He looked up at Dennis with a grin and said, 'Dog, say hello to Hector Diaz, man with the
They gave each other a nod and Dennis said well, he was going to move along, see you later. He started off through the trees, heading for the battlefield, and Robert caught up with him.
'You having fun?'
'It's like a county fair without the rides.'
'I got weed, you want to pick up your mood. Me and Annabanana slipped away from the general to share a joint. She come back with Chinese eyes, the man's too lazy to notice.'
