Read Online They Met at Shiloh by Phillip Bryant - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Phillip Bryant
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matter how mad he may be, vir sind die Soldaten up in die Morgen.”
“Isn’t it boiling yet?”
“No.”
“Vo ist das Kind Huebner?” Hildebrande asked.
“Probably still in the Sibley,” Gustavson stonily answered.
“Needs to get his arse in shape.”
“Uh oh, here he comes.”
Huebner’s cheery early morning expression appeared between Hildebrande and Gustavson.
“Alvays just in time for die Kaffe,” Gustavson groused.
“Wird der Kaffee gebrüht?” Huebner asked.
“Nein, Kaffe nicht gebrüht,” replied Hildebrande.
“We ought to try it anyway. Hammel’s going to be showin’ up any second to call formation,” another man said.
“Ja, no more wasting time. Let’s get it before it’s too late,” Hildebrande agreed and bent over to lift the boiler from its hook above the fire.
As the pitcher was delicately tipped to pour its contents into the crowding muckets, Hildebrande and Gustavson kept Huebner at bay until all had been served, allowing the others to enjoy a full un-spoilt cup. The circle instinctively widened as Huebner bent down to fill his mucket but lost his balance, pouring a healthy portion of the liquid into the fire, raising yet another cloud of ash. The lid over the pitcher protected its contents, and everyone else was far enough away to be immune from the fallout.
Robert held the mucket to his lips and blew across its surface. It was hot enough to enjoy, but the rim of his steel mucket was too hot to put his lips to yet, allowing only quick sips. He let the aroma sink into his consciousness. The early morning wake-up was unusual, but not so much so as to cause alarm. He was used to being rudely shaken awake occasionally, as when on picket duty he would have to spell the previous watch for a few hours, and he usually drew the worst time of the night, between one and three a.m. At least he was enjoying a fire and a hot cup, two things denied while on picket. In the last two weeks, his regiment and the others of the brigade had been ordered to patrol the woods in front. Only the evening before, two other companies had been formed for an early morning march with no results.
The cold, damp air was filled with the noise of clanking equipment and the crackling of the fire. Even the insects were smart enough to be resting at this hour. The darkness cloaked the forest, which sat only a few hundred rods from the edge of the camp. Somewhere out there, the company pickets were posted, and Robert wondered if they were going to join them or push on ahead into the unknown.
As the coffee enlivened them, the men began to move about with more alacrity. Groups of men formed, and conversation became lively. Robert moved over to where Gustavson and Hildebrande stood. The flicker of the fire danced shadows about their faces.
“Probably just another fool’s errand,” Robert said.
“Ja, it’s just our turn. A and C had their turn die andere Morgen,” Hildebrande replied.
“Here comes Hammel.” Robert quickly took another draught of his mucket in anticipation of having to dump the remainder. He spied Huebner happily munching on a hard tack and cuddling his mucket to his chest. A quiet expression lit his face as he stared mesmerized by the flames.
A shout interrupted their reverie. “B Company! Form up on the street!”
With one last gulp of coffee, Robert up-ended his mucket and secured it to his haversack. He walked over to Huebner and shook his shoulder vigorously. “Hube, we gotta form up. Dump that and get moving.”
Robert turned and took a few steps in the direction of the company street, but not hearing foot falls behind him, he stopped and turned. Huebner was still transfixed by the fire. “Hube! C’mon.” Robert walked back to his erstwhile companion and grabbed the sleeve of his sack coat and dragged him away.
“Time to form?” Huebner asked.
“Yeah, time to form.”
*****
They made their way down the goat track that stood for a road. The early morning dew and rain
“Isn’t it boiling yet?”
“No.”
“Vo ist das Kind Huebner?” Hildebrande asked.
“Probably still in the Sibley,” Gustavson stonily answered.
“Needs to get his arse in shape.”
“Uh oh, here he comes.”
Huebner’s cheery early morning expression appeared between Hildebrande and Gustavson.
“Alvays just in time for die Kaffe,” Gustavson groused.
“Wird der Kaffee gebrüht?” Huebner asked.
“Nein, Kaffe nicht gebrüht,” replied Hildebrande.
“We ought to try it anyway. Hammel’s going to be showin’ up any second to call formation,” another man said.
“Ja, no more wasting time. Let’s get it before it’s too late,” Hildebrande agreed and bent over to lift the boiler from its hook above the fire.
As the pitcher was delicately tipped to pour its contents into the crowding muckets, Hildebrande and Gustavson kept Huebner at bay until all had been served, allowing the others to enjoy a full un-spoilt cup. The circle instinctively widened as Huebner bent down to fill his mucket but lost his balance, pouring a healthy portion of the liquid into the fire, raising yet another cloud of ash. The lid over the pitcher protected its contents, and everyone else was far enough away to be immune from the fallout.
Robert held the mucket to his lips and blew across its surface. It was hot enough to enjoy, but the rim of his steel mucket was too hot to put his lips to yet, allowing only quick sips. He let the aroma sink into his consciousness. The early morning wake-up was unusual, but not so much so as to cause alarm. He was used to being rudely shaken awake occasionally, as when on picket duty he would have to spell the previous watch for a few hours, and he usually drew the worst time of the night, between one and three a.m. At least he was enjoying a fire and a hot cup, two things denied while on picket. In the last two weeks, his regiment and the others of the brigade had been ordered to patrol the woods in front. Only the evening before, two other companies had been formed for an early morning march with no results.
The cold, damp air was filled with the noise of clanking equipment and the crackling of the fire. Even the insects were smart enough to be resting at this hour. The darkness cloaked the forest, which sat only a few hundred rods from the edge of the camp. Somewhere out there, the company pickets were posted, and Robert wondered if they were going to join them or push on ahead into the unknown.
As the coffee enlivened them, the men began to move about with more alacrity. Groups of men formed, and conversation became lively. Robert moved over to where Gustavson and Hildebrande stood. The flicker of the fire danced shadows about their faces.
“Probably just another fool’s errand,” Robert said.
“Ja, it’s just our turn. A and C had their turn die andere Morgen,” Hildebrande replied.
“Here comes Hammel.” Robert quickly took another draught of his mucket in anticipation of having to dump the remainder. He spied Huebner happily munching on a hard tack and cuddling his mucket to his chest. A quiet expression lit his face as he stared mesmerized by the flames.
A shout interrupted their reverie. “B Company! Form up on the street!”
With one last gulp of coffee, Robert up-ended his mucket and secured it to his haversack. He walked over to Huebner and shook his shoulder vigorously. “Hube, we gotta form up. Dump that and get moving.”
Robert turned and took a few steps in the direction of the company street, but not hearing foot falls behind him, he stopped and turned. Huebner was still transfixed by the fire. “Hube! C’mon.” Robert walked back to his erstwhile companion and grabbed the sleeve of his sack coat and dragged him away.
“Time to form?” Huebner asked.
“Yeah, time to form.”
*****
They made their way down the goat track that stood for a road. The early morning dew and rain
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