Wake nodded his acknowledgment and left Martin shaking his head and staring at the departing naval officer. He called back over his shoulder. “Thank you, Major. I’ll go see about getting the regimental surgeon and his mates going right now, if you don’t mind. I’ll see you later.”
As he walked out of the encampment he stopped by Taylor, who was standing with his men near the small bluff by the beach. Wake explained that the colonel had rescinded his orders and the regiment was moving forward to let the sailors go back to their ships. He also informed Taylor that Martin was now in command of the army troops and that Wherley was very ill and would need transport back to Key West. Taylor reacted with the same incredulity as Martin, gauging Wake and his information carefully.
“Didn’t look sick to me, Peter. Looked like a pompous fool, but not sick.”
“Well Thadeus, he was sick as a dog when I talked to him. Looked sad, physically weak. Been building up for some time probably. Got Martin to relieve him. Now Martin’s got the regiment going forward and we sailors can get out of here.”
“Yes, Lord let us all get out of this place and back where we belong. This has smelled bad since that planning session with Captain West and Wherley. Didn’t think this one through very well.”
“That’s quite an understatement, Thadeus. But it might turn out well now. Thanks for taking the chance and coming ashore to help us. I know what that took. It’s greatly appreciated, my friend.”
“Hell, Peter! Your Bosun Rork was about to put the whole rest of your crew ashore, leave your schooner empty, and fight his way to you, through Yankee soldiers or Reb enemy! I had to order him directly to stay aboard and then convince him that I would personally bring you out. Man is a bit dangerous, Peter. Glad he is on our side.”
They shared a laugh and Wake shook hands with Taylor, his parting words spoken quietly. “Thadeus, I don’t want to make much of Wherley’s decision not to reinforce us at Claresville. It’ll only bring discredit upon all of us on this operation and bring down morale. He was sick and made a mistake. I don’t want the Rebs to see us in discord and gain advantage in the newspapers. Agreed?”
Taylor hesitated and looked closely into Wake’s eyes, then nodded. Wake left the encampment, surgeon and assistants trailing along with their instruments and supplies, on the road through the swamp to Claresville.
The sun was climbing and the heat was rising. Wake felt filthy and his thighs and armpits rubbed raw as he walked. The sweat aggravated his misery and the insects in the swamp completed the torture. The mosquitoes were all over them, so dense that the air was black with them.
The surgeon and his men were not enthusiastic about their journey and kept asking how much further up the road Claresville would be found. All in all, it was an ordeal for Wake, who kept his mind on the positive fact that Wherley would never again be in a position to get any more men killed and that the enemy would not profit by a public exposure of the colonel’s behavior. And best of all, his sailors would be relieved shortly and back out at sea, where they belonged.
Things could still go far wrong, he reminded himself, but Wake smiled at the thought of returning to the St. James and Rork. He wanted to get away from political colonels and senseless battles and ridiculous schemes to liberate this horrible place. Tramping along in the breathless heat, his thoughts went on to the other colonel, the one from the “Fightin’ Fifteenth,” who had misjudged the tenacity of Wake and his sailors. Misperceptions of the situation by a commanding officer were more than mere mistakes in judgment—in war they frequently resulted in death. Wake felt the sad irony that Colonel Wherley would not face scrutiny for his incompetence, but Colonel Holland would live after the war in this state where he would be forever known as the man who gambled with his men’s lives, and lost.
Wake picked up the pace, as if trying to run away from the fear inside him that perhaps one day it would be St. James’s sailors paying the ultimate price for one of his misperceptions.
12
Casualties of War
Wake noted the time as eleven twenty-one when the first men of the regiment came into sight from the crossroads. Major Martin had been true to his word. The regimental surgeon and his assistants had been busy for an hour by that time, administering medicines for pain and cleaning wounds. New dressings replaced the older ones that had become congealed with blood and filth. One of the wounded who had died was buried. Some of the others had grown worse due to the infection of their wounds. Wake felt anger at the waste whenever he looked over at the groaning men grouped under the shade in the ruins of a pole barn once used to store cotton and hay.
Several of the sailors jeered as two companies of the New Yorkers marched in parade formation into Claresville, until Wake put a stop to it. He didn’t want any more animosity. He just wanted to get his men out of there and back to the sea where they belonged. The soldiers stared at the carnage around them as they broke ranks to take up the positions in the perimeter vacated by the sailors. The stench of death made the newly arrived young men grimace and feel uneasy in
