No Greater Love Chapter 7D
Davie kept his arms around John and Ernest as the six-car passenger train pulled out of the central station, headed north along the lake front. Once out of the city the train would turn south along the fresh laid rails of the Illinois Central. These were the charter lines of the railroad that one day would reach New Orleans.
The handsome 4-4-0 American number 80, a product of Rogers, Ketchum & Grosvenor of Paterson, New Jersey, was one of 116 owned by the railroad. The 50-ton locomotive, shining with all her brass, was a fine looking locomotive; her crew took pride in how she looked, from the long slender cowcatcher to the slender diamond stack which many people of the day said was a cross between the tall funnels of early wood burners of the 1830's and the giant diamond stacks of the 1860's. The balloon-shaped stack and other parts of the locomotive were kept bright by frequent polishings. Ornamentations were in vogue, and enginemen and firemen spent many hours furbishing the many brass parts. The massive headlamp with its rounded reflecting glass burned whale oil to cast a white light down the track for a quarter of a mile. The locomotive was the pride of the line; it showed the people living in the Prairie State that this railroad had money and power, something there was little of in the wilderness of central Illinois. The locomotive, spit and polished, her dark red headlamp box to her Russian blue boiler and dark crimson red cab and matching tender, eased across the trestle on the border with the lake, the wheels flashing in the morning light as the light snow continued to fall.
The three boys held onto the back iron railing, looking as the lake and the city they all knew begin to vanish. The car bounced and swayed as it left the double-track trestle and onto the unballasted single-track main. The passenger car was crudely constructed; it had a large wood stove at one end and long rows of rough wooden seats that were rough on the back and behind ends of its riders. Whale oil lamps hung from the ceiling, casting a feeble glow at night; they were unlit now, the shades on the windows pulled up so the light could shine in. The outside was painted a bright yellow color with black trim at the roof line and Illinois Central painted in gold leaf. The train was coupled together with link and pins and every time the locomotive slowed and stopped, the passengers felt the full effects of the slack running in. There were no air brakes, only the manual brake wheels located on the platforms of each car. Passengers were forbidden to walk between the cars while the train was moving. There were no water coolers in the cars but a single barrel of ice water located in the baggage car. The newsboy, a simple lad of 13 to 15, would walk through the cars with a tin pail and a dipper for the comfort of the passengers, carrying water and hard candies, fruits, and books.
The city had vanished in the haze and the blowing snow. The skies were growing darker as the winter storm blew in from the north off the lake. Ten miles south of the city, out in the wilderness, the train crossed the Michigan Central line at a place called Grand Junction. The cars bounced and swayed across the diamond as the unsprung trucks rode on the rails. 'Yes indeed,' thought Davie, 'trains are faster than anything else but you had to be one bold son of a bitch to ride the steam cars. He, like the brothers, was loving every moment of it except for the freezing north wind. "Come on, let's go inside and try to get warm."
The three boys walked through the door and into the passenger coach. They found seats in the rear of the car on the opposite end of where the pot-bellied stove was. The car was chilly on this end but the passengers near the stove were burning up. The three bundled up in their great coats and huddled together on the hard wooden bench and soon all three were nodding their heads in sleep.
The train continued south, moving at 25 miles per hour on the rough track, the engineer riding on the right hand side of the cab while the fireman threw shovel after shovel of Illinois coal into the firebox; he was the only one in the cab staying warm. The northern winds began to pick up in speed, hammering the sides of the locomotive and cars. The engineer prayed he could make it far enough south before the blizzard struck full force and snowdrifts blocked the track and trapped the train. He slid the window open and stuck his face out in the freezing wind so he could see the line ahead. His mustache and beard soon became white with the wet snow as his cheeks numbed. The train slowed as it passed the switch leading into the siding at Kankakee, then stopped in front of the small wood-framed depot. Women and children, along with hunters, fur trappers, farmers, and homesteaders debarked from the train while others got on, including soldiers headed back south to Cairo and other places. The three boys continued to slumber, hugging each other for warmth and protection. The engineer reached up and yanked the whistle cord, blowing a sharp long blast, and pulled the throttle on the engine open. The big drivers slipped and spun on the slick icy rail, then slowly began to move forward, the links between the cars clanking together as the slack was pulled out.
Just as number 80 and her train pulled out, there was a sharp blast from another train. A troop train was running on the same schedule as the passenger train. They were supposed to be 15 minutes apart but the troop train was gaining speed. The engineer of number 80 looked behind him and saw the approaching smoke. Was he running that late? He pulled the throttle open more and closed the window in the side of the cab. He knew that his engine was faster than the one following, which was number 50, a wood burning locomotive built in the '40s. It was time to make up lost time, snowstorm or not. He nodded to the fireman to keep up steam as they raced down the line.
Number 80's engineer knew the dangers of the high speed he was running and the dangers of derailment if he was not careful, but the headlight of number 50 was still close behind. He clocked his speed at 50 mph, that was plenty fast for him. The engine swayed like a ship in a gale as the high winds blew the snow across the track ahead of it, caking on the glass in front of him. The storm was getting worse by the minute. The train raced through Clifton, sounding her whistle as it passed the station, then raced on.
The engineer of number 50 eased his throttle back on his wood- burning, diamond-stacked 4-4-0. He watched the rear markers on the last passenger car and wondered why they were going so slow with such a new engine. His fifteen cars of troops, cannon, and supplies were needed at Cairo and he would be damned if he were going to let a blizzard stop him from doing his job. Next stop was Gilman, where there was a coal dock and wood yard, along with a water tower and yard. Here the Peoria and Western crossed the Illinois Central. The two trains reached Gilman in 3-1/2 hours and both eased to a stop beside the massive wooden water tower. The water tower sat between the main line and the passing siding. Both engines were panting from the fast run, like race horses.
The two engineers climbed down from their cabs as the firemen went to work, filling the tenders with water. The men checked their engines and oiled the bearings and checked for anything out of place.
"Goddamn, Jeffery, what the hell is the matter with you, coming up on my ass like a bat out of hell!"
"Not a fucking thing, William, I just wanted to see you actually open up the throttle on 80 like a real engineer. If you can't tell by now, we got a fucking snowstorm blowing in and I want to make it to Cairo with this heavy ass train I am pulling. I got 15 cars of cannon and supplies, along with 2 passenger cars packed with hardheaded soldiers spoilin' fer a fight and I be damned if they is going to fight on my train. Kentucky is just over the Ohio River and they can fight the goddamn rebels." Jeffery spit into the snow and they turned to watch their firemen fill the tenders.
The soldiers mingled around the cars, laughing and picking on each other, calling each other any and every kind of name, to the horror of the women on the passenger train who could hear it through the closed windows. Davie woke up and looked around and noticed the train was sitting still. He nudged the brothers awake. They stretched and yawned. Davie stood up and walked toward the rear platform to get some fresh air and the two brothers followed him out to the rear platform where they saw the troop train and the soldiers playing like children in the fresh snow. The snowflakes were getting larger by the moment. The wind had almost stopped but the snow hadn't.
The firemen were having trouble with the water supply; half of it was frozen in the damned tank. Instead of pouring from the spout it trickled. What should have been 10 minutes at the max. turned out to be 40 minutes. They kept the fires hot and carried coals on their shovels back to the tender and waved them under the iron spout to melt the ice so the water could flow. The day was growing darker as the afternoon grew to dusk. The engine crews soon saw a headlight approaching from the south, the northbound flyer for Chicago from Cairo. The engine eased to a stop and the passengers debarked while more got on. Fifteen minutes later the two firemen climbed aboard their engines while Jeffery and William mounted the cabs. A long blast from each engine sounded their departure from the water tank and they eased down to the coaling and wood dock where number 80 would take on coal while number 50 wooded up. The northbound passenger train blasted its whistle and pulled out of the station while a switchman threw the switch, lining it for another siding. The northbound train eased into the siding and glided past the two southbound trains; the engineer tooted his whistle and waved at the crews. The front of his locomotive was a solid white, caked with snow. The two engine crews waved back, then shook their heads, wondering how much more damned snow they would have to go through before Champaign and supper.
Davie, John, and Ernest stayed on the back platform, watching the soldiers scurrying like rats to get back on their train, only to have a look of dismay as the train stopped again at the fueling point. The process was repeated as the two firemen began to fill their tenders with fuel. 80's fireman had it easy; he reached up and pulled a heavy chain with his gloved hand and watched the black diamonds pour into the tender bunker, while on number 50, the fireman and two brakemen threw stick upon stick of cordwood into the tender bunker.
The soldiers, seeing the grueling task, decided to chip in and help and 20 minutes later number 50 had a full load of seasoned oak. Soon both trains were ready to depart. The small brick depot could barely be seen in the swirling wind and snow.
William reached up and yanked the whistle cord and opened up the throttle, the big 60-inch drivers spun on the slick rails, then he opened the sanders and the heavy train began to roll. Davie, John, and Ernest watched the snow from the back platform and waved at the men in blue on the other train. Most just stared back, wondering who the three boys with special privileges were. Just as they passed the switch, the fireman from number 50 reached and grabbed the handle on the harp switch stand and shifted the rails to line up with the spur, and number 50 and her train sat there and spun and puffed and snorted, trying to get the heavy troop train rolling again. Then with a clatter and clang of the links and pins, the heavy train started rolling. The fireman swung up on the tender steps as the engine passed the switch stand.
The two trains began to pick up speed until they reached 15 mph. The station agent stood on the platform and waved at the train crew of number 80 as it clanged across the diamond of the Peoria and Western, a five-foot gauge that was wider than the standard gauge ICRR which was built to the English and now the American standard of 4 feet 8 1/2 inches. The boys watched everything from the back platform of the train and waved at the agent as he stood and watched engine number 50 gain speed.
"Davie, should we really be standing here? Because if we stop, that other engine is going to plow right into us. I saw that happen one time. A farmer was trying to get across the tracks and the train just ran right smack over him, wasn't nothin' left but a bunch of splinters and corn all over the place."
"Well, Ernest, if we slow down or stop I don't really think it would matter where we at because we going to get hurt or killed. That engine is pulling a lot of stuff and it would be hard to stop a train like that." They could barely see number 50 as she crossed the diamond because of the snow. They turned and headed back inside the car.
The conductor was walking down the aisle, lighting the lamps as the sun set behind the dark gray clouds. They sat back down and looked out the window at the drab landscape, the barren fields of the prairies, the scattered farm houses and small towns, until darkness blocked their view and the swirling snow blanketed everything in white.
At 8 PM the train, with bell clanging, pulled into the 3-story wood and brick station at Champaign where the train would stop for a 20-minute supper stop, then continue south to Centralia.
The passengers rushed from the cars and into the large station dining room. The boys ran also into the warm, well lit station and dining room; long wooden trestle tables were lined up in the center, covered with oil cloth. Steaming urns of hot black coffee and teas sat on the ends of the long counter. Silver platters of food were laid out, piled high with fried beefsteak, potatoes, and other vegetables, loaves of bread dripping with butter, and sweet desserts piled high with fresh cream. The boys stepped into the long line of passengers and grabbed tin plates and forks and knives, along with a tin mug for coffee or tea. Black men dressed in white refilled the platters with more food as soon as they were emptied. The boys moved down the line, piling their plates full with the beef and potatoes and sweet ginger cookies. Davie poured coffee while John and Ernest selected the hot tea. They carefully balanced their overloaded plates and steaming mugs and moved slowly to one of the long wooden tables. They sat down beside a large middle-aged man and a blonde teenager who looked to be about Davie's age.
"Evening, lads," spoke the middle-aged man.
"Evening, sir," replied the three boys as they sat their plates down on the table beside their steaming mugs, then they sat down on the hard wooden benches.
"My name is Otto Kroner." He spoke with a thick German accent and held out his large chubby hand toward Davie.
"Davie Phillips, sir." Davie grasped Otto's hand and shook it.
"This is my son Erik." He pointed to the blonde-haired blue-eyed boy as he spoke.
Davie and Erik shook hands and Davie introduced John and Ernest to the father and son and they all shook hands.
"I see you boys are in the Navy."
"Yes sir, we are. We are headed to Cairo to report to the USS BENTON, our first Ironclad."
"Very wise choice, my friends. The BENTON will be completed on January 15th. She will be a very fine fighting ship. Erik and myself helped to build her boilers. I am a boilermaker originally from Cincinnati, Ohio. I was born and raised in the Fatherland in Berlin and moved here to the States 20 year ago. Me and my sweet wife had Erik here 4 years after we settled here in this great land." He patted his son on the back. Erik continued to eat, chewing the tough beef. John and Ernest also ate, chewing and swallowing the hot food while listening to Davie and Otto talk. John and Ernest scanned the blonde boy up and down while they ate. Erik was giving the brothers the eye also as he ate and listened.
The 20 minutes passed quickly as they ate and talked. "Papa, I want to join the Navy when we get back to Mound City."
"But, Son, you're only 16 years old. You have to be 18 before you can sign up."
"Papa, look at John and Ernest, they not 18. They younger than me!"
The two brothers smiled. "Just because we are short does not mean we that young. I am 16 and my brother John is 15," spoke Ernest with pride in his voice.
"See, Papa, if they can join, so can I. I am 16 myself."
Erik's father was about to speak when they heard the whistle blow and the conductor shouted over the noise of the crowd of passengers. "TRAIN LEAVES IN 2 MINUTES!"
They all scrambled to their feet and raced for the panting train. The oil lamps that hung from the iron lampposts cast a white light onto the snow covering the brick station platform. They all climbed the steps to the rear car and sat down closer to the wood stove. The center of the wood car was actually comfortable, not too hot, not too cold.
Father and son resumed their argument while John and Ernest sat on each side of Davie, facing Otto and Erik. "Papa, I want to do my part. I want to be a sailor on the BENTON and you see, I have three other people my age. I know we can be friends." Erik's blue eyes sparkled as he looked at the three teens. They all nodded back and agreed Erik was their friend.
Otto sighed, "OK, my son, you may join the navy."
"Thank you, thank you, Papa! I won't let you down!" Erik's eyes were blazing like diamonds. He stood and hugged his father, then turned and hugged his new friends.
The five people sat and talked as old 80 rumbled through the night, headed south to Cairo. At midnight the train pulled into Mattoon and made a brief stop, then rushed on. The brothers once again were asleep, their heads resting on Davie's chest. Otto smiled at the sight and looked down at his own Erik who was dozing, resting his head against his father.
"So, Davie, how long have you known your companions?"
"Two days, sir. Two wonderful days." Davie smiled. Soon Davie and Otto were nodding their heads in sleep along with the other boys and the car became quiet except for the clicking of the wheels on the rails as the train raced through the night and the swirling snow.
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The sun crept out from behind a bank of gray white clouds and the golden rays shone down on the glistening white snow. The train was now 15 miles north of Centralia. William kept the throttle pulled back and the train clipped off the remaining miles at a fast pace of 50 MPH. The track here was smooth and pretty flat for the most part, having crossed over the Edgewood cutoff and the Little Wabash River the night before. Centralia was the junction point where the Chicago branch and the other lines of the Illinois Central became one, forming what everyone in the area called 'The Needle's Eye'. The Needle's Eye was the single-track main line that ran down to Cairo. Number 80 began to slow down as she approached the open switch at the entrance to the Centralia yards. The switchman waved his hand in an arc, signaling to come in slow and easy over the points as the engine eased into the siding beside the massive four-story brick station, her bell clanging her arrival. The conductor walked through the cars, shouting, "CENTRALIA, 20 MINUTE BREAKFAST STOP!"
Davie yawned and stretched his arms, then lightly shook John and Ernest awake.
"Come on, me sleeping brothers, time to rise and shine. Time for breakfast and hot coffee."
The two brothers yawned and stood, then reached for the ceiling as they stretched. Erik and his father also were stirring from their slumber and stood and the small band of strangers who sat down the night before for supper, 200 miles farther north than they were now, walked out into the crisp winter air as friends.
Centralia's large station was full of people. Men, women, and children rushed here and there, most crowding into the large dining room, grabbing plates and mugs of steaming black coffee. The food, like at Champaign, was lined up along the long oiled counter: bacon, fresh stuffed pork sausage, fried ham, scrambled eggs, biscuits, and honey. The boys, followed by Otto, fixed their plates, piling them high with the simple fare and poured the hot steaming coffee into their mugs. They noticed here how the coffee stayed so hot - a small concealed whale oil burner was set into the counter and the pot sat on a tripod of iron legs. They smiled as they pointed that out to Erik and Otto.
"Well, my lads, us Germans hate lukewarm coffee in the winter time. This was one of our inventions." Otto smiled.
They were about to sit down when a large man dressed in buckskins and a hat bumped them over and sat down, almost spilling John's hot coffee. Some splashed on the man.
"Stupid little shit, get out of my way!" shouted the man angrily. The angry man looked up, then glared at the three boys in their blue uniforms.
"Aww, ain't that something, trussed up in your Yankee blue uniforms like you're really something!"
Davie wanted to kick the few yellow teeth the man had left down his throat but Otto motioned for Davie and the others to find another table and leave the drunken bastard alone.
"Boys, he is spoiling for a fight. I know the type. He is from Missouri and holds allegiance to neither side. As far as we know he could be a bushwhacker or a guerrilla raider, looking at the rails and trying to decide how to cause damage to them, but right now that is not our job to stop him or the rest of his gang. Here, let's sit at this table so we can watch him closer." They sat down at a near table and began to eat but kept an eye on the man in the dirty buckskin jacket. Soon three other men joined him at the table and they began talking, referring to places that Otto and Erik knew but Davie and the brothers never heard of.
"OK, boss, here is what me learned from the railroad guy over yonder behind them bars. This here station is busiest when the trains stop for grub. There are some trains from the east and west but not as many coming from the north and south. Also there is a gun and a group of soldiers at the Little Muddy River, guarding that big fucking bridge there. They number about 20 men and boys in all."
"Good work, Mo. Now y'all eat your grub and we'll board the train south to Dubois. Also keep an eye out on those boys in blue over yonder at that table. I don't like the way they keep eyeing us every now and then."
"OK, boss," the men replied and they began to chew and slurp their food and coffee.
Davie and the others caught bits and pieces of the conversation. They did not understand most of what it was about but they knew something was up. They finished the meal and walked outside to the station platform where Otto pulled out his clay pipe and packed it with dried tobacco. He struck a sulfur match and touched it to his pipe and drew in the smoke as he looked up into the sunny sky. The boys looked at the locomotive and talked about boyish things, for that is what they were, boys in the prime of their youth.
Otto pulled out his watch and looked. The train should be ready to pull out. It was 25 minutes past the departure time. The conductor walked by and Otto stopped him.
"Excuse me, sir. Why are we delayed?"
"Well, sir, we are waiting on a supply train from Springfield to arrive, also a troop train from Chicago. Your train will be ahead of the others but the management wants all three trains to head south as a group to Cairo."
A whistle sounded in the distance as engine number 50 eased into the station behind number 80 and her train. The conductor smiled, "We got one more behind that one and we will depart unless we get another telegram from the Chicago office."
Fifteen minutes passed, then twenty minutes. The passengers milled around the platform or sat inside to keep warm. The silence of the morning was broken by the sounds of two whistles blowing from the north as the two trains eased into the crowded siding behind number 80. Two more troop trains were joining the parade south to Cairo.
The four train crews gathered in a circle for a conference while the passengers began boarding the cars. The boys decided to sit once again at the rear of the last car so they could look out the window set in the tall narrow door.
Davie, Ernest, and John watched the barren farmlands slip by their windows and in other spots the track curved through cuts and bridged gullies. Each mile brought something new to their eyes as they looked out the window. Erik was telling them about the land that was called Little Egypt, the small hamlets and shady groves and the open farmland laid out fallow, waiting for the spring to come and once again the farmers would move out into the fields with their plows and work the rich dirt, then rowing it up, followed by men with sacks of wheat, corn, and other seeds but for now they were barren with a slight dusting of snow covering the ground. Engine number 80 had outrun the Snow Belt and now chugged along at 30 MPH.
The train whistled at Ashley as it clanged across the diamond of another short line. Erik suggested they walk out on the back platform and catch glimpses of the Big Muddy River. Otto smiled at the boys and nodded his approval while he fished his hand into his pocket for a nickel to give to the newsboy for the morning paper. The newsboy smiled at the four boys as they bundled up in their heavy coats and walked out the door and grasped the cold iron railing with their gloved hands. They watched the track fall behind them and watched the headlight of number 50 keep pace about 30 yards behind them. Over to their right ran the Little Muddy River. They saw the brown water surging down the riverbed. The telegraph poles glided by, one every few seconds. Before long the conductor opened the back door and stepped onto the platform. He smiled at the boys and told Davie to grip the big brake wheel and when he heard the engine sound her whistle for him to start turning it to the right to tighten the brake shoes against the wheels to help slow the train for the Little Muddy River Bridge. The bridge over the Little Muddy River was built of wood, resting on stone piers set on the hard bedrock of the riverbed. The train whistled and Davie turned the brake wheel until the conductor told him that was good enough for railroad work. The engine eased onto the long wooden span. A soldier in uniform waved to the crew in the cab as the train passed below him. On the southern side a 14-pound howitzer protected the southern approach. The engine whistled again and the conductor pointed to a spring lever that released the brakes and Davie did that while the other boys watched him.
Meanwhile the band of guerrillas was waiting to get off the train at Dubois but the train just whistled and began to pick up speed as number 50 started across the bridge. The group of men walked out to the forward platform and, as the train passed the station, they jumped to the ground. The boys saw them and all flipped their middle fingers at them. One of the guerrillas reached for his pistol and aimed it at Davie. At the same time the sentry on top of the bridge saw the pistol in the man's hand and threw his musket to his shoulder and fired. The man holding the pistol dropped to the ground as a crimson flower formed where his heart was. The rest of the band continued walking as if they did not even know him.
The boys saluted the sentry and he returned it and waved at the crews of the other trains and began to reload his musket. The rest of the trip was uneventful and at 1 PM the train pulled into the brick and wood station in Cairo.
They walked forward to the baggage car and pulled down their duffel bags and Otto and Erik grabbed their carpetbags. "Come on, boys, let's grab a bite to eat at the Holiday House." Otto smiled and led the way to the hotel. The soldiers began to pour off the troop trains and began to set up camp along the Ohio River Levee not far from the Holiday House, also known as the St. Charles Hotel.
Otto opened the door and led them inside the 4 story wood building. They walked through the small lobby to the dining room. Otto picked a corner table and they sat down. A young blonde-headed lady walked over to the table and asked them what they would like to drink. There were two choices - coffee or whiskey. They all chose coffee with a pitcher of cream and brown sugar. The lunch special was beefsteak and gravy with creamed potatoes for 50 cents. They ordered the special and prayed it was hot. The lady brought the coffee and the mugs, then returned with the cream and sugar. Davie poured the coffee for everyone and then they all passed around the cream.
"Umm, Davie, can you burn coffee?" asked John.
"What do you mean, 'burn it'?"
"Well, Davie, it is so black. I think the coal the locomotive burned was lighter than this here coffee."
Everyone laughed at John. He just looked back with this small smile as if to ask, 'What did I say?'
Otto sipped his coffee and smiled, "It is not so bad, my lad, it's just very strong brew."
John took a small sip and everyone watched him. He smiled, "Next cup 50/50 on the cream" and smiled again.
They all laughed and talked and sipped the strong coffee, Erik talking about Cairo and the area, with his father chiming in whenever he made a mistake. Soon the young lady returned with their food and she busied herself with passing around the hot steaming plates of food. They thanked her and began to dig into the hot steaming food. The food was not as good as what they had eaten at the railroad stations but there was an exception - there was no rush to finish this meal.
In the distance and high on the bluff a church bell chimed the hour of 3 PM.
"Well, lads, I guess this is where we say our good byes. You must report to the US gunboat fleet and I must report back to the ironworks and my boilermaking."
"Where is the USS BENTON docked at?"
"At Mound City," replied Erik. "We passed the work train heading toward it right before we entered Cairo. No passenger trains though. If you want to get there before dark you'll have to do like me and pa here and ride the work train that leaves in 15 minutes up the branch to Mound City. Also that is where Navy offices are."
"OK, that will work!" said Ernest, holding his mug almost to his lips. He winked at Erik.
"That it will work. Also we still have about 5 days before the USS BENTON is ready for action. Admiral Foote is in charge right now but I understand that Porter and Dixon usually take over once they reach Memphis and farther south."
"You're right, Davie." Otto packed his pipe as he spoke. "Shall we go to the junction and wait on our work train to Mound City? It is not such a bad day to ride a flatcar."
The afternoon sun peeked out from behind the clouds as they watched and waited for the little switch engine to finish its job of loading lumber and other building supplies for the trip to Mound City.
The little switch engine chuffed up to the junction switch and stopped. The engine crew motioned them on board and they climbed on the first loaded flatcar that carried the gun carriages and cannon barrels for the big ironclads. The brakeman threw the switch and the little engine jerked the train into motion and, when the 3rd flatcar passed the switch, the brakeman rethrew the switch and climbed aboard.
The ten miles to Mound City took right at a hour with the little engine chuffing and puffing wood smoke all over the place as the small drivers churned on the rickety track. The flatcars swayed back and forth every time the wheels crossed over a joint between the rail ends.
"Aye, me boyos, this track is not the best in the land but it had to be thrown together as fast as possible for the war effort. There was two hunderd men working on this line when they was building it and I was one of them. Well, I fired the boiler on little 13 up front there. She might be small but she does a good job as any engine, I suppose." The brakeman chuckled and crawled up on one of the cannon barrels and sat down with the rest of them and engaged in a hearty chat. He asked Davie and the brothers about the navy and they smiled and replied that they just joined up and were heading to the USS BENTON for the first time.
Then he turned to Otto and Erik and asked them how they were doing.
"Just fine, Patrick. We took mother to visit her parents in Champaign and now headed back to Mound. Also little Erik here has talked me into letting him join the Navy."
Patrick broke out into a big grin. "Sweet little Erik in the Navy, you don't say."
Erik blushed. "I ain't little."
Patrick leaned over and whispered in Erik's ear. "I know that you ain't little with what you have between those pale legs" and patted him on the rump.
Erik blushed harder and Davie saw the pat and smiled.
The work train pulled into the siding at Mound City. Patrick hopped off the flatcar after shaking hands all around and patting Erik on the shoulders again. He stepped between the tender and the flatcar and pulled the pin in the link that connected the engine to her train. The switch engine ran ahead to the water tank and the long rack of wood while Otto and the boys started walking up the muddy dirt street toward the center of town. They stopped in front of the small wood building with a sign in front of it. It read, "US NAVAL DIVISION HEADQUARTERS WESTERN RIVER FLEET"
They all walked into the small building. The young officer sitting behind the desk stood up when the 5 males walked through the door.
"How may I help you?"
Otto spoke up. "My son Erik wishes to join the River Fleet and his 3 friends are here to report for duty on the USS BENTON."
The officer sat back down. "Your name?"
"Erik Kroner."
"Age?"
"18, sir."
The officer looked hard at Erik to see if he was telling the truth. "Mr. Kroner, is that statement by your son correct?"
"Yes sir, it is."
"Erik, sign this paper and while you are getting fitted with your uniform by my helper Bill, your father can give me the rest of the information I need."
Erik walked over and took the quill and signed his name on the paper and smiled.
Davie, John, and Ernest smiled at him and slapped him on the back.
"Bill, we got a new recruit that needs his Navy blues fitted!"
A lanky man walked out of the room behind the one in which the boys were standing. He wore wire-rimmed glasses and had a long, chest length beard. "So who is my new recruit?"
Erik stepped forward.
"Why, Master Erik, I am most honored you have decided to join the fleet."
"Thanks, Jim."
"Why, who are those fine looking sailors over there in those fine pressed clean uniforms? They did not have anything to do with your enlistment now, did they?"
Erik smiled, "Yes, they did. I figured with Davie, Ernest, and John and me all on the same ironclad, I would have friends my own age."
"Very smart thinking, my boy, now come on, let's get that uniform of yours."
Jim led Erik to the back room while the officer at the desk wrote out the rest of the information he was getting from Otto as he puffed on his pipe as usual.
Davie, John, and Ernest were standing by the pot-bellied stove, warming their hands and talking.
"I wonder what Liam would think of Erik?" asked Ernest.
"I think Liam would love him. He is a very sweet boy." replied Davie.
"Not to mention cute," chipped in John.
Ernest blushed heavily and smiled. They all smiled at him and patted him on the back.
"Yes, he is a very handsome young lad." Davie smiled over at Ernest. "You can have him and I will keep John."
Ernest smiled, then blushed, then giggled. "Davie, you too much and it is a deal. You may keep John."
"When do I need your approval for who my special friends are?" asked John.
"Umm, since we met Davie and he fell more for you than he did me."
Davie's face turned crimson red.
"See, see, I told you it was true." Ernest wanted to shout it instead of whispering it.
"Hey, no secrets aboard ship now, me mateys."
They all turned around. It was Erik, dressed in his navy blue uniform, his cap perched upon his blonde hair and his blue eyes sparkled with joy. The gaze Ernest gave Erik was pure love. "You're beautiful." spoke Ernest before he realized what he had said out loud. There was silence in the corner of the room as Erik just stood there for a moment with the look of surprise and shock on his face. Then Erik smiled.
"You're not so bad looking, your own self, sailor."
Ernest beamed from ear to ear, his face turning a dark red as he stood there looking at the most handsome boy he had ever seen in his 16 years on earth.
"Attention, Sailors!" shouted the officer behind the desk.
They all turned and snapped to attention.
"Very good, sailors, that know how to stand at attention before they even step aboard the ship. I'm impressed."
"Your orders are as follows: For the rest of today go out and have fun like boys should. Tomorrow, January 11th, explore the naval yards and ships, talk to people, make new friends. Now the 12th through the 14th, have more fun but learn something new every day, hang out around the ships, especially the USS BENTON, your ship. You all have your ID cards. If anyone is stupid enough to ask who you are, show them the card. Also remember to keep your uniforms spotless and neat. Now for your final orders from me, on January 15th be on board the USS Benton at 11 AM sharp. You shove off at 12 NOON, bound for the war zone. That is all, Sailors!"
"Thank you, sir!" The four boys saluted and smiled when the officer saluted back.
They ran out the door and into the streets, all carrying their bags. Otto was puffing after them, "Wait up, you damned devils."
They stopped and turned around. "Yes. Papa?" asked Erik.
"Take your bags to the house and leave them in your room since your new friends need a place to sleep. You all will have to share your double bed. Then go have some fun but be careful. I am headed to the Ironworks."
The boys laughed and began to run up the street toward Erik's house. Erik reached out and grabbed Ernest's free hand as they ran, laughing and playing, as teenagers should, while on distant battlefields men died. For now the boys laughed and played in the chill of the January afternoon, no cares, no worries, just pure friendship shining its power down on the four boys. Otto shook his head and smiled. "I haven't seen my boy so happy in years."
Otto started down the wood sidewalk toward the Ironworks, walking and humming an old German song while he watched the boys disappear up the street.
A loud explosion erupted from the south where the Ironworks sat and soon smoke and steam filled the air. Shouts of fear and terror rose from the citizens of town as everyone raced south toward the smoke and steam.
---
Another rumble followed the first and shook Davie from his daydream. 'What the hell!' he thought. Then the big 24-pounder fired right below his feet, causing him to fall to the iron casemate of the ironclad. "What the fuck!" he looked up and saw a steamboat in the distance and a Confederate flag flapping in the summer breeze. The drummers beat 'to quarters' as the other big guns were run out into battery as steam was increased in the boilers. The steamer turned upriver and headed back toward Belle Bend. Time to warn the MISS LOU about the Yankees.
Captain Thompson was soon standing right beside Davie. Davie was back on his feet, looking through his field glasses at the retreating stern of the little river steamer. He could read the name on the side of her paddle boxes - WABASH.
"Mid-Shipman Phillips, what can you see?"
"Capt'n, Sir, she is crowding on steam as she swung around in the river. She is going to outrun us for sure unless we can put a shell in her paddle boxes. I do not know where she is headed except upstream. If our maps are correct, Belle Bend is 15 miles upstream. The Rebs might have a camp or something there.
"Very good, Phillips! Come with me."
Davie followed the captain down the ladder and inside the Ironclad. They walked forward toward the bow battery.
"Mr. Dufree, blast that rebel steamer out of the water!"
"Aye, Aye, Capt'n"
"FIRE!" shouted Dufree.
The three big Guns erupted in flame and smoke as the shells whistled through the air!
"Gentlemen, the ball is opened."
"FULL STEAM AHEAD!"
The pilots looked down "Aye, Aye, Capt'n."
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So, my dear readers, we now know a little more about Davie and his friends and about his coming to the Western River Fleet. I am sorry about taking so long on this short chapter. Please forgive me. A lot has been happening in my life and to answer or try to answer a question I have been asked a lot by you and others: When will I return to Johnny and Adam and Billy? Well, they will be back with us before long. I miss my southern boys as well but I wanted to tell about the Union side also and life on board a Union Ironclad, which I plan to cover in the next couple of chapters. We will learn more about Davie and others along with why the WABASH was steaming down river in the first place. Things are heating up for our boys in gray and blue.
Now I must thank Ed for his wonderful work on this and all my chapters of this story and High Iron. Plus the Original version of My Little Stowaway which can be found on my site. The co-authored version is located in the Adult-Youth section of Nifty.
I cannot forget to thank my friends for inspiring me to continue this EPIC tale as some have been calling it. Thanks a million to Ed, Willy B., Al, Joe, and Chris for having me as a friend. Thank you, my readers, for reading my work and letting me know that you enjoy it and to the ones who have told me it could be better and Chris your still one of most special people I know.
Please e-mail me at Swarri1349@aol.com
And let me know what you think or how I might be able to improve my work.
Also visit my web pages at http://swarri1349.tripod.com/
And please sign my guestbook at the bottom. I would love to know who stopped by. I have added a lot of Civil War art and photos to the pages, also writings by a good friend of mine. These pages will continue to grow over time. Stop by on the Writings page and enjoy.
Stephen