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A Story...a really really bad story.
December 18, 1864
I woke a bit congested, not that I was bothered by it; I had been through worse those past years. I’m Mary-Ann, by the way, but I went by ‘Martin’ then. I joined the military 3 years before, when the war first began,- they were at its acme then, though, I think- my brother had left for the war and, as you should know, women aren’t allowed to join the military, ‘They are too fragile.’ One might say, or ‘It’s a man’s job to protect his family.’ I believe it’s all jabber. My brother is currently at Petersburg -I thought- and I was going to fetch him, for my family, of coarse, my brother, Samuel Louis Martins, was 12-4 years behind myself-, my sister, Jonnie Janet Martins, was 7, my mother-Julia-and my father-Louis- were not doing very well on the family farm, we needed everyone we can to help. I joined the military at 13-believing it would be the easiest way to find him(maybe I was wrong).
“Martin!” My jaunty friend James Smith greeted, sauntering up to me, “Hello, James.” I replied, studying one of my so few friends, he had grown gaunter than when I first met the 16 year old 1 year ago in Boston, he had a more haggard look about him. “How do you feel about some breakfast and sing some ‘Dixie’ for all ‘em Yankees to hear.” James cheered gingerly, I laughed, “Do not belittle them my friend.” I scolded lightly, James grinned. James has always been an unassuming character, rather exotic if I should say so myself, he conveyed to me that he was born in Pennsylvania, and I had confided in him I was a girl. Not an even swap, I suppose, but he didn’t seem to mind. It is winter, cold and cruel as it always comes, we chafe our hands, as we walk we pass the infirmary, “So much dire.” James said as we passed a pile of bodies ready for burial, I nodded solemnly.
We also passed a few soldiers parrying and fending off blows from each others bludgeons. We hear some other soldiers proclaiming the lyrics of ‘Dixie’ merrily. Speaking of which, it is near Christmas, it is December 20, “Merry Christmas, James.” I said, looking up at the much taller man, James laughs, “It is not Christmas, kid.” He chuckled, I beamed, “Everyday is Christmas!” I cheer.
We arrive at the fire, the men had stopped belting ‘Dixie’ and were now joining a depressing song of ‘Hard Times Come Again No More’. “Men, lets sing some ‘Camptown Races’. Don’t waste those beautiful voices.” James teased, joining the circle, I sat abut to him, several soldiers laugh, but most just die off, some going stoical. “Come on, come on, let us sing!” James made conducting signs in the air, “You’re an unflagging fellow, aren’t you?” A petti-officer commented, “No, I’m just more fervent about being jolly or I’ll turn into Haswell.” James said, several soldiers groan. “What ever did happen to that loon?” Nicholas O’Brian asked, “I think he plummeted off the side of a cliff” a Lieutenant laughed, “I wouldn’t put a stint on the possibilities.” I added.
That was when everything went awry, everyone’s enmity turned up, Colonel Henry Riley, the devils own proxy, “Martin, what’s wrong with you, don’t talk about your superiors in such a tone!” He scolded harshly; he took a plate and filled it with a hot batch of grits, then left. “That man really rankles my nerves.” I growled, everyone was perceptible to my hatred of the man, everything about him cried demon.
We left the circle after a little chat, joining the soldiers in the practice field, I pull out my deer antler dagger from my belt and point the sharpened tip at James, “Want to tussle?” I ask in my best tuff-man voice, James chuckles, “We’ll work on it.” He pulls out his dagger and takes a stance, “I’m a prodigy,” I announce, “I will one day be renowned all throughout the New World!” James arches an eyebrow, “But I thought the most predominant trait in women was to take care of her children?” I frowned, I knew no one heard, but that was still uncalled for, “I will not be reclusive in my house on the prairie, boy.”
A few years later ~
I am reunited with my brother, now. He is at his home, with our family, well, what is left. Mother and Father died right after I returned with my brother, but he his there with my siblings and his lovely wife, Jennie. The war is over now, we are better, but I think there is still much left to happen. I have a husband who is a baker, the best one in the 13 colonies if I do say so myself. We live in Boston with our 3 kids, Michael, Ellie, and Sarah, my husband’s name is James Smith. How’s that for a change? I sit here this time staring at the battle wounds I have, will forever have, being taken back; “I’m a prodigy,” I announced, “I will one day be renowned all throughout the New World!” I had achieved that goal as Martin, me.
~Mary-Ann Smith, 1865
 LoveNotFailMe · Sat Dec 20, 2008 @ 04:18pm · 0 Comments |
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