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Robert's smile took a few moments coming, and when it did it wasn't much of a smile, just enough to let De
The bivouac area looked more lived in when De
The first sergeant, giving De
De
"He's a detail man," the first sergeant said. "He means well, and he's a dandy battalion commander in the field, but he tries too hard to be helpful. Like the tents. We were out on an actual campaign, you wouldn't see any tents. You wanted some cover you built yourself a shebang. You know what I mean by shebang?" De
De
"If we're going by the book and are told not to keep the fires stoked? Hell yes. Hell, Virginia one time in May, you spooned or you froze." He said to De
The fella with the First Iowa, in limp and graying longjohns, told De
De
The First Iowan said, "Not in this weather." He said, "I don't snore or let farts either, if I can help it."
De
He'd done it enough times between gigs, always a sleeping bag in the setup truck, the last time on his way to Panama City and the Miracle Strip amusement park. That hot sun all day long and not much to do but go to movies. The nights weren't bad. Put on his show and then hang with people who liked to party. It could get old, but then he'd move on and look for the same people at the next stop. There were the good-time girls who loved daredevils, and there were more serious ones, divorced, trying to get by with a couple of little kids, young girls in their thirties starting to fade, not having the time to be themselves. They would invite him to di
The First Iowa fella said, "I brought beans I cooked with the salt pork and some molasses you're welcome to."
De
A brogan nudged his ribs and he looked up to see the first sergeant standing over him. De
"We got more people than duty time, so the colonel's cut the watches in half. You're on perimeter ten to twelve."
"Where's my post?"
"I'll take you. Pick up your rifle."
He asked the first sergeant what he was supposed to do here. The sergeant said watch for Rebs sneaking up in the night to attack the camp or take prisoners. He said they liked to snatch pickets who weren't alert and ship them off to Andersonville to die of dysentery.
De
He had told the First Iowa soldier he had picket duty and the man said, "Good." Imagine you're at Brice's and you can feel the Joh
Standing here in the scrub swinging his free hand at insects buzzing around him. He took the joint from his pocket and lit it, sucked on it hard to get a good draw and blew smoke at the bugs, hoping to send them off stoned. He wondered if Civil War soldiers smoked weed, the way they did in Vietnam. He wondered if they said "this fucking war" like soldiers in war movies, more saying it in Vietnam war movies than World War Two flicks. He would have to ask Robert. Robert probably wouldn't know but would have an answer. Robert was the most in-control person he had ever met in his life. Like the way, in front of Arlen staring at him, he laid the gun on the kitchen table without looking at it. Just something that happened to be in his briefcase. The weed had his mind flashing on Robert highlights. Robert with Walter Kirkbride, wanting to be one of his colored fellas. Robert making whatever he did look easy. Robert taking his time, days, to build toward the crossroads, what it meant, before making his offer. Robert saying, "No way could you ever be indicted on a drug charge, you'd be hidden from view. Your Dive-ORama accountant ever got picked up? You'd be shocked." Robert saying, "Man, if a daredevil couldn't handle that…"
The daredevil standing in the dark holding a ten-pound replica of a Civil War rifle. Not anywhere near an edge.
He walked off with the rifle toward faint lights showing in the civilian camp.