Sharpshooter

Sharpshooter

Part 2

O Tan-Faced Prairie-Boy

O tan-faced prairie-boy, Before you came to camp came many a welcome gift, Praises and presents came and nourishing food, till at last among the recruits, You came, taciturn, with nothing to give--we but look'd on each other, When lo! more than all the gifts of the world you gave me. Walt Whitman.

Andrew Griffin 2nd USSS Falmouth VA. April 4 1862

Dear Ma.

Oh how I miss you. Robert is gone forever now. The doctors in Washington are as useless as old Mrs. Galager was with her potions and prayers. Stephen is away from the company most of the time now and even Michael is kept too busy to find time to sit with me. Ever since we moved south I find myself alone and missing even the comradeship that battle seems to have brought the others. Oh yes I have seen the elephant and a terrible thing it was to do but my officers seemed pleased anyway. I will tell you now before my brothers do, that I may have a price on my head if what that old contraband said was true. Please don't worry for me. It seems that no matter where our family is going we will have others offering payment for us. But oh how I dream of falling back into your arms right now and letting you rock me again. I am sorry now that I acted too old with you for now nothing would please me more than your comfort. Tell Mrs. Lane that her sons Thomas and Albert will join us again soon. I hope then I will have someone to talk with again. The officers I serve while camped are pleased with my efforts and have welcomed me but I cannot belong to their circle. Also, the captain's son has visited from his university and has tried to act as though I was there for him to order around and I can only wait for him to leave before I do something or the captain has to make the choice between his son or his soldier, and I know where that shall lead. Thank Mary for her gift. The stockings are wonderful on my feet. Enclosed within you will find ten dollars of the twenty I promised you in the last letter. I am sorry but after I repaid those I owed, it's all I may spare in the knowledge of our delayed past payments. Please give all my love to my sisters and William. I dream and pray for you always. Your loving son. Andrew.

"That is enough!" Andrew snarled in frustration, ignoring how his voice pitched higher than its normally high register. "Enough!"

Andrew quickly knocked the invading cook pot off of his personal camp stove, spilling its steaming contents across the ground. He felt his temper finally snap, Irish blood boiling as hotly as what the captain's son had been trying to cook. He spun to face the shocked, and worthless in Andrew's eyes, young man who'd been too lazy to set up his own fire and stove his father had provided. Hell! Andrew had seen to the officers' need by collecting and starting their fires and had even seen to cooking for them, but he'd be damned if he'd fight to use his own any more! This had been the fourth or fifth time he'd removed the young man's pot and replaced it with his own so he could fix his own breakfast before being called away for some other duty.

Lieutenant Leaby quickly forced himself upright and glanced through the open flaps of his tent, carefully guarding his injured arm in its sling. Thankfully the ball that had struck him went through the fleshy part, barely missing the bone within. It had taken some convincing before the surgeon had let him remain in the field but George found it refreshing. Truth be told, he was deathly afraid of what would have awaited him back in one of the hospitals. He quietly grimaced at the long delayed confrontation between his fifteen year old boy-soldier and the young civilian, 'idiot' he thought. He'd tried to point out the growing problem to his captain but the man seemed to turn a blind eye to each slight that seemed to rankle Andrew further.

"You little bastard!" Daniel Fessenden's rage finally overcame his shock at what the redheaded boy had just done. "It's time you micks learned your place! Servants is all you'll ever be!"

"A bastard am I!" Andrew shot back, eyes flashing fire in the dawn light. He quickly turned and snatched his rifle up into a firm grip. "A servant is all I'm good for?"

He breathed out slowly, never taking his eyes off the young man standing in front of him. The fact that the pale man was growing paler by the moment registered savagely on his brain. He quickly drew his bayonet, the twenty inch sword-like blade catching the sun wickedly, and fixed it to his rifle with practiced ease. "A mick I may be, but I'm no coward who lets others do their fighting! And I'll let no one call me a bastard!" He nodded toward the stacked officers' rifles and slowly went to 'present bayonet', letting a savage grin spread. "Now defend yourself!"

"Are you crazy!" Daniel felt his bluster deflate in those steel green eyes that faced him now. "My father will have you in irons before tonight after I tell him about this!"

"Who's to say you'll be able to?" Andrew hissed through his teeth as he began advancing on the other boy who quickly began backpedaling away. He barely saw the gathering group of soldiers who'd been attracted by the sudden loud commotion in their camp.

"Lieutenant!" Daniel yelled as his eyes sought out and found the younger officer. "Do something!"

"Do what, lad?" George shrugged one shoulder and nervously smiled until he caught the sly look from his still angry young private. He could still see the anger plainly enough but the murder was no longer there, just the fading wink he received. "As far as I'm concerned, you're getting what you deserve!"

"Noooo!" Daniel wailed as his last hope faded. He quickly spun away and ran as fast as his legs could pound the churning earth, closely followed by a redheaded demon. "You'll all pay for this!"

"Stick 'im good, boy!" Some in the group of soldiers yelled their laughing encouragement as Andrew howled and bayed like a pack after a, now truly terrified, fox. "Stick that pig! Shove it up his ass!"

The growing pack of laughing soldiers began trotting after the pair as they scrambled their way through the camp. Others stepped out of the way as the first young man sailed past, eyes wide with terror and gasping for air, before following after the bayonet-wielding boy in green!

"Oh God in heaven!" Sergeant Meyers followed the distant race with wide eyes as he stepped out into the field after checking the pickets. He quickly picked up his pace and wondered just who could be stupid enough to threaten the son of their captain with a bayonet, when he saw the flash of red hair in the sunlight and groaned inwardly. He should have seen this coming a mile away! He kicked himself mentally and broke into a run to intercept the two before he had two dead boys to deal with! One by stabbing and the other by hanging!

"Get away from me!" Daniel screeched through his gasps as he glanced over his shoulder at the young boy who leisurely pursued him. He redoubled his efforts when it became apparent the redhead was playing with him like a lion would a mouse! He could see that the slight boy behind him was obviously much faster and better conditioned for this 'sport'. He was truly a Daniel in the lion's den now. "God! Stop!... Oooff!"

Daniel bounced hard off the tree he hadn't seen and rolled into the brush at its base! He dazedly levered himself onto his knees to stare at the blade in front of his face. Whatever color remaining in his face drained away as surely as his bladder had just done.

"Now! Who's the better man?" Andrew held his grin to a hideous smirk while the crowd grew silent around them. "Who? You piece of...."

"Private Griffin!" The crowd of grinning soldiers grew somber and parted to let Sergeant Meyers through. "Stop this right now! What do you think you're doing?"

"You're the better man..." Daniel almost sobbed. "God! Don't let him kill me!"

"Sergeant!" Andrew pulled his rifle up into its 'port' position as he braced at attention, still facing his former opponent. He felt, rather than saw, the older man stalking around beside him. "This man called me a bastard! I promised that no man would ever call me that!"

"And so you chased a civilian with your bayonet?" Sergeant Meyers asked, incredulity seeping through his voice. "And the captain's son at that?"

"Yes, sir!" Andrew tried to keep his face severe and failed. The corners of his mouth kept trying to turn up all on their own. "I said no man could call me what he did... My mistake, sir! I mistook him for a man!"

"You stupid mick!" Daniel soon rallied now that the threat of being run through by that gleaming steel, he hadn't been able to take his eyes off of, had receded. "My father will see you hung for this!"

"Young man?" Sergeant Meyers responded calmly as he raised an arm to quell the harsh mutters that came from many of the other soldiers standing behind him. "If I were you, I'd shut my mouth before I let my other micks, as you call them, finish what Private Griffin started."

He quietly reached out and pulled the rifle out of Andrew's arms and motioned to two of his sentries to take the weapon from him. That they had left to see what was going on, he would have to deal with later but first things first. He reached into a small pouch at his waist and pulled out his wrought iron manacles he carried as part of his duties in camp. He quickly clamped Andrew's wrists into them behind his back. "Private Griffin! You will wait here under guard until I send for you!"

He gazed harshly at Daniel as he rose to stand again, trying to hide the wet streaks down his trousers. "And you! Get back to your tent! I don't want to see you again!"

"Sergeant?" Andrew grimaced at the smirk the captain's son gave him as he hurriedly departed the circle of soldiers. "Could someone see to my stove? I was trying to cook my food... I... I... what will happen now?"

"I don't know, my boy..." Lieutenant Leaby stepped through the thinning ranks and smiled as he used his good hand to gently grasp his young soldier by the back of the neck. He thought for a moment about countering the sergeant's actions but brushed it aside. The sergeant's job was difficult enough, "...but I do know that you've done all we could ask and that, that idiot got what was coming to him as far as I'm concerned. This is as much my fault as yours. Now try not to worry yourself, lad."

"Yes, sir." Andrew stared at his feet and shifted uncomfortably. The adrenaline had slowly worn off, only to leave regret and a lingering anger. He felt more alone than ever before at that moment, even though most of his comrades had taken his side in their own way. He'd been in trouble many times in the past but his temper had never gotten him in trouble with his own before.

"OK, lad." Sergeant Meyers turned to escort the lieutenant back to his tent. "We will talk to the Colonel and try to straighten everything out in your favor, and even the Captain may be a fair man, I hope. No one was killed."

"Arrrghh! Sweet mother Mary and Joseph!" Andrew tried to sink into the wooden bench as Surgeon Reynolds finished dousing the welts that covered his back with some unknown salts that had been stirred into a bucket of water. He gazed down at his brother's pale face and sad eyes, wishing he still had the leather to bite on. "I'm sorry, Michael."

"Of what?" Michael forced a slight smile onto his thirteen year old face. "That piece of...."

"Michael!" Andrew squinted through his partially closed eyes. He'd been only dimly aware of both his brothers' presence as the whip fell on his bare back while he kept himself bent across the wagon trace. He'd been whipped before, when eleven years old, for setting snares where he shouldn't have back in the old country so it had been important to him, that he didn't utter a sound until his punishment for his stupid actions was complete. He'd been, at once, relieved and rebellious when the surgeon had stopped Sergeant Meyers at twenty four strokes of the thirty the officers had sentenced him to. His legs had given out along with the skin of his back on that last kiss of the lash.

Now he had to keep his little brother from doing something that would get him punished as well! God knew, Michael's butt had felt enough switches for some misdeed or prank in camp. "Promise me you'll do nothing! ...The officers were right and told me that after... Ughhhhh!...that after today, nothing more would be said. The Captain even offered his apology.... Sweet Jesus!"

"OK, lad... I'm done." Surgeon Reynolds cast a weary glance from the redheaded boy's streaked back to where his assistant lounged quietly in the tent. "I'll leave you in Oscar's care for the rest of the day and tonight. Tomorrow we shall get you back to your duties. It will hurt but keep you out of further trouble, I hope."

"At least..." Oscar cleared his throat as he rose to shoo away the swarm of mosquitos that had seemed to appear out of nowhere, obviously sensing an easy meal in the purple and red welts. He shook his head at the pride of youth Andrew had shown to excess. Given the choice of the lash or being switched like the errant schoolboy he really was, Andrew had pulled himself up to his full height and insisted that as a soldier, he'd take a soldier's reward. The Captain's eyes had opened at that, "...that other snot-nosed supposed relative of the captain's has been sent...."

"Oscar! That's enough," the surgeon snarled quietly. "The Colonel said that after today the whole matter is closed! The other boy has been sent away and Private Griffin has paid for his actions. This whole sorry affair is finished."

"Aye, it is." Andrew looked up in the direction of the new voice entering the confines of the canvas. Twenty five year old Stephen Griffin couldn't help but grin through his mixed emotions. Somehow he was feeling the same way he had after watching his younger brothers fall to his mother's strap. "It is, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Andrew sighed painfully. For the second time that day he fought to keep his eyes dry within the shame he felt. Stephen had been away on detached duty, only to arrive just in time to see his brother whipped like a willful mule. "Neither of you must tell ma..."

"What kind'a fool do you take me for?" Stephen did begin laughing then as his fight against it failed. "And to be sure, you looking at me with those hurt puppy eyes, like I'm some heartsick... I'm ya brother! I know better! You probably deserved every stroke and then some, me boyo!"

"Well...I...." Andrew found himself smiling in the face of this new assault from his older relative. "I should have known better than to expect you to understand! Your heart's as black as that mop on yer head! God knows why mother kept you when she saw it!"

"My heart is black?" Stephen fell easily into his role as the oldest son again. "You little devil! Sure ye've a halo all right but it'd be around that scrawny neck but for the horns growing out'a that thick skull! Besides! Ya know I take after father! It'd be you two pieces of sweetness who favor our poor suffering ma!" He glanced over at the two surgeons. "And she gray before her time due to these two!"

"Hey!" Michael gamely rose to his, and his brother's, redheaded defense against their 'foreign' relative with his raven locks. "You done your share, not just us!... What about you an' that planter's girl?"

"Michael!" Stephen rocked back with the memory and the shock it came from the thirteen year old. Stephen had been all of fifteen when he'd hidden in that old Irish barn. That would've made Michael all of three. "How would ye know of that?"

"Mama told me," Michael shot back uncertainly. He drew a scowl across his brows before jumping back on the defensive. "Well, Ma was talking with Father Moores just before we left and I overheard..."

"You spied, in other words!" Andrew jumped in even though it meant he be fighting a war on two fronts.

"I just listened!" Michael sighed in frustration as his eyes shot daggers at his middle brother that screamed 'Traitor!'. "I'm no spy! ...Anyway, the Father said that God in his wisdom had given men two heads, even if we could only think with one at a time. Mama started laughing at that but then started crying in the Father's arms.... What did he mean by that?"

"Michael?" Stephen and Andrew felt the color drain out of their already pale faces. "Why did'ya not tell us before?"

"I promised Mama I wouldn't say anyth...." Michael suddenly grew silent as he realized just what he'd done! His eyes grew moist. He'd just broken his word, betrayed her faith!

"It's OK." Andrew forced his smile back onto his features as the physical pain reasserted itself in its war with the mental pain that had struck just as hard. Their mama had seen them off to war with pride and a smile. How could they have been so stupid not to have seen all that lay hidden behind her eyes? He gently reached out and pulled Michael's chin up. "It is all right. I'm glad you told us... We'll keep it between us."

"Ahhem!" Oscar looked at the others in the dark confines of the canvas room. "Why don't you two help your brother back to his tent for the night... and Andrew, you might wear both of your woollies tomorrow for the extra cushion if you have them."

"Yesss, sir." Andrew grimaced as he rolled himself upright and gladly accepted the assistance from his brothers to stand. He shrugged them loose as he straightened himself up and strode out into the golden dusk. If he hurt? Hell! Stephen was right! He deserved every stroke he'd received and be proud of it! He had barely uttered a sound during his whipping, he'd not show any weakness in front of the others now!

"Well, I hope Colonel Post is happy now," Oscar mumbled under his breath, watching the three boys until they left his sight. The bare back in the middle had sickened him, smooth freckled skin criss-crossed and bleeding as it was where the leather had finally bitten deeply. He was only thankful that the scarring would be minimal. It would scarcely be noticed but would be there all the same now.

"Now, don't go worrying yourself, Oscar." Surgeon Reynolds smiled quietly as he made to leave himself. "The boy will be all right. He may be stronger than you or I. After all, we didn't have to face a whipping. In fact, I imagine the ladies will find him all the better for it. It will give him that flair of the scoundrel he is, in their eyes. Nope! The boy won't have any trouble attracting the girls!"

"Oh, I know, Bill." Oscar smiled while he cleaned up around him, allowing himself to fall into first names while they were out of earshot of the men. "Just, it's not only the girls...."

"So you think the rumors are true?" William Reynolds stopped at the open flaps and turned back, scowling slightly.

"Would it make a difference?" Oscar asked quietly of his superior, gently probing for a response. "I mean, if those two boys shared a love that forced both into unnatural acts?"

"Well..." Reynolds thought quietly for a minute as he composed his answer based on what the senior officers had discussed so long ago, it seemed. "No, my old friend. It wouldn't make a difference. I know it's against the Articles of War but you show me one natural thing about these times and this place. Truth is, many of our boys won't ever see home again, so let them find love where they can...."

"Even if it's themselves?" Oscar held his grin out of sight as he approached Bill's constantly frustrated theme of 'self abuse'. "You know all those young men will find relief...."

"No!" Bill faded as the Surgeon surged to the fore. "I'm not sure of the damage those other acts may or may not cause but all the world agrees about that filthy habit."

"If you say so, Bill." Oscar continued to grin at his old friend's firm stance. He'd read 'Don Quixote' once long ago and if Bill wanted to tilt at windmills? So be it. "But has the world told all our young men that?"

"No. I can't. It hurts too much." Andrew sat quietly, blanket wrapped loosely across his bare shoulders, with his brothers around the dying embers of his small cooking fire, listening to the distant conversations and laughter of the camp. God, he was itching terribly now above even the ache whenever he moved the wrong way. The damned mosquito bites would drive him to distraction but he was relieved to hear the sounds returning to normal after the respectful silence that had accompanied his slow trip back toward his tent. He'd remained silent through all the sad looks and even the few handshakes he'd gotten from them all. What was there to say anyway?

"Will you not play even for us?" Stephen pleaded with his eyes as well as his voice, glancing at the oil-cloth wrapped instrument lying at his brother's feet where he'd been forced to place it after Andrew had refused it. "Please, brother, for us then, I didn't bring it from the baggage for nothing then?"

"I'm sorry." Andrew whispered, avoiding their eyes. His gaze fell back to the oil-cloth as the firelight played across it. "I can't."

The three fell into an uncomfortable silence that seemed to last forever in the darkness, each lost within their own thoughts. Andrew slowly drifted toward the instrument and quietly unwrapped it and brought it to his chest, cold wood to warm skin. It was as if someone else was within his fingers, scolding him for a fool! Suddenly the finely crafted wood no longer felt so cold in his arm as he bowed a few soft chords and started singing along with the old familiar tune. His high tenor began to gently waft through the trees as he kept it soft and low, meant only for them:

"His hair was black, his eye was blue

His arm was stout, his word was true

I wish in my heart, I was with you,

Go thee, thu Mavourneen slaun.

Shule, shule, shule agra

Only death can cease my woe,

Since the lad of my heart from me did go

Go thee thu Mavourneen slaun."

Andrew never noticed the quieting of the conversations and card games around them as many of the other young men stopped to listen to what had been absent for so long from the camp and they lost themselves in their own thought momentarily.

Michael snuggled closer and drifted off to the comforting sound of his brother's voice. Now he knew Andy would be all right.

"Fuck," Andrew hissed under his breath as the unique wood frame of the Sharpshooter's backpack pressed against his sweaty back with each step. Even with the second pair of woolen underclothes he wore, he had to grit his teeth against the pressing into his welts and the salty sweat that seemed to unerringly find those open places in his skin. The extra bundle of his fiddle wasn't helping but after that last night and the morning, waking up wrapped between his brothers, it was back where it belonged. 'Besides', he thought to himself, 'it balanced the load of his rifle.'

"How are you doing, lad?" Sergeant Meyers came up beside his soldier. "I wanted to tell you,... You did all right."

"So did you." Andrew instantly regretted shrugging his shoulders, his grimace at the pain self-evident. "Sir."

"Well, we all have to do what is best." Sergeant Meyers smiled through his own grimace. He needed to get past the whipping he'd done and soon. Otherwise he'd have to make sure the boy stayed in front of him at all times. It wasn't wise to make too many enemies within a group of crack, long-range shots. He motioned toward the instrument. "I'm glad you've begun playing again.... How's about a tune to pick up the pace?"

Andrew carefully stepped out of line to pull his fiddle out, then quickly struggled back into his place in the cloud of dust left by the captain's horse. He began Brian Boru's march then and noticed Michael's smile as the boy almost danced into the back of the horse.

"Oh God!" He coughed suddenly. That would be all they would need! The faster they arrived at their new posts along the Rappahannock, the better! He hoped it would be soon anyway.

The Company quickly found itself leaving the dust of the road and trailed within sight of the burned bridges that once spanned the river they fast approached. The men in blue, from King's division, they were there to relieve looked on with a mix of boredom and regret. Andrew quit his playing once ordered to stop and stood as they were sorted out and assigned their places along the river.

"Hey, son! Yo mama know you here?" Andrew turned toward the laughing voice to regard the group of men standing and watching him. The one in the middle whispered to his comrades, who laughed again, before turning his graying salt and pepper beard back toward Andrew. "Hey, fresh fish! Why don't you get yourself back to yo mama and leave the fighting to the men...before you wet yourself?"

"This 'boy' as you call him has already dropped four men at over three hundred yards!" Sergeant Meyers quickly stepped up to the challenge, cutting off whatever his young man was about to say. "He's seen the elephant. Have you?"

The small group of soldiers in blue shuffled uneasily in the face of the older man in green with his stripes fairly glowing on his sleeve. Their ringleader found his courage or lost his sense. "Well, that boy'd better not do that here...None of you goddamned bushwhacking murderers had better not! We got a good thing here. We don't bother them and they don't bother us! In fact if you got coffee, they got all the tobacco you want."

"Well, don't you worry yourselves." Sergeant Meyers couldn't help but grin as the anger was suddenly replaced by a faraway look in Andrew's eyes. "We're ordered to watch. Nothing more. Now be off with you and just remember who will be in front of you when the shooting starts! So watch yourself with that 'murderer' talk!"

"OK, lad." Both sergeant and his boy-soldier watched the group in blue slink off into the dry afternoon. "Don't you mind what those men were saying. They'll be happy to have us around soon enough." The sergeant raised his voice. "Those of you not needed for duty are free to do what you will!"

He gently pushed Andrew on the back of the pack. "Go on now, lad...you won't be needed till late tonight."

"Yesss, sir?" Andrew looked suspiciously at Meyers for a moment before trotting off. He'd been sure the captain would keep him at work as long as possible in retaliation for shaming his son. He shook off his confusion and quietly helped with setting up their camp layout with its usual 'streets' amongst the trees. He was brought up short by a painful tug at his sleeve and a loud whoop as Michael scrambled by on his way to the river bank, shedding his clothes along the way. His face burned as badly as his back at the roar of adult laughter all around him. "Michael! Don't do that!"

"Com'on, Andy!" Michael yelled over his bare shoulder, treating the camp to nothing but pink flesh scrambling up a tree to hang over the river before dropping into a loud splash!

"Go ahead, Andy!" Albert Lane looked down from his towering, over six foot, height at the redhead who'd been helping him set up. "I can finish here. Go keep your brother from drowning!"

"I don't know..." Andrew looked back at his dark blond friend. Eighteen year old Albert had finally rejoined the company along with his older brother that morning just before they left. "I don't know if I should."

"It won't hurt you to play some." Albert grinned even broader in reassurance. Truth be told, he never tired of seeing Andrew's body bare to the wind, though he'd been disturbed to see the angry streaks that crossed the pale skin and muscles of the boy's back that morning. "It might even do some good.... The rest of us will be there shortly."

"OK, OK, you win." Andrew tiredly slumped to the ground and began fumbling with the straps of his leggings. He had to admit it was probably a good idea after all. Besides, it had been almost a week since he'd had a chance to wash at all and the dowsing he'd gotten after the whipping hardly counted....

"Ahhhh," he grimaced quietly when his undershirts pulled at his back where they'd stuck to the few scabs but the pain faded quickly as the air dried the sweat, cooling him off. Standing again, he quickly finished the job and gathering his underclothes and rough soap into his arms, he walked naked toward the river bank. The comfort of the grasses and even the small rocks beneath his bare feet was equally matched by the air finally wafting between his legs as he flopped with each stride. It was time to clean his things as well as his body.

Albert quietly sighed and bent back to his task after his eyes had gotten their fill again. Truth be told, being bent over was the best way to keep a particularly sensitive part of his body from rubbing against the rough wool he was wearing. In all his eighteen years, he'd never felt such wanting. The only problems had been the closeness of his family to the Griffins and Andy's closeness to Robert. The one time they'd had a company dance, Andrew had played instead of dancing but at that time there had been enough women to partner up with those who wanted one anyway. Glancing around the crowd that night, he could tell that Andy and their little bugler would have been most popular otherwise.

Albert ruefully glanced back just in time to see Andrew's naked form leap off the bank to the taunting voice of his little brother, only to end in a splash and shriek.

"Ahhh!" Andrew spluttered to the surface of the river. It felt like thousands of knives sinking into his back and body as the cold struck him. He only then noted his brother's shivering smile. "You Shit! You didn't warn me!"

"You've gotten soft!" Michael grinned as he upended himself and disappeared.

"Shi..." Andrew knew what was coming but still exclaimed when his legs were grabbed and he disappeared into the water as well. The thrashing of his arms added to the torture of his back but soon the cold seemed to numb even that to bearable levels. He quickly let himself float back up to stare at Michael's grinning face again. He stroked his way back to the bank and his waiting soap. "Damnit! I'll swim with ya but not wrestle! I still hurt!"

"I'm sorry, Andy." Michael quietly swam to the bank next to his brother and reached for his brother's, already soaped, arm and the wet undergarments. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, I suppose." Andrew watched some meager suds drift slowly away before turning to look into Michael's sad eyes. "Don't worry, you didn't cause any harm.... I'll even share my bar. Something tells me you don't have one with you. I should tell mama that you haven't changed at all!" He grinned then, at the red flush that brightened Michael's face. "Just don't press hard on my marks."

"All right." Michael returned his most serious look. This was important! His brother was trusting him around his wounds. He gently grabbed the bar, almost losing it in the process. God! the cold must be making his arms shake.

"Shhhhh." Andrew hissed quietly under his breath at the gentle burning in his back as the soap was barely applied and floated away with the current. He forced a smile, cutting off his brother's questioning hands when they stopped. "It'll be all right. Keep going, then I'll do your scruffy backside."

"Scruffy?" Michael smiled evilly but kept his motions gentle. Keeping the bar in one hand, he splashed a huge wave of cold across his brother where the sun had warmed the skin, telling himself he was just rinsing the soap away. He laughed at the sudden arch that appeared from his older brother, who finished rinsing by submerging completely. "I'll not be call...."

"What?" Andrew rose grinning as Michael sputtered back to the surface, still clutching the precious bar in his hand. Yes, it hurt to do it but revenge was still sweet!

"Oh! I'll get you for that!" Michael grinned back evilly, then playfully lunged forward. He mockingly lowered his voice, trying to do his best 'mother'. "But first I need to finish washing you!"

"I don't think so!" Andrew instinctively reached between his legs to fend off the unseen and unfelt hands he knew were there. He glanced at the growing number of naked soldiers up and down the bank. His eyes followed as Albert hurled his own tall naked form into the river with a whoop. "What do you think you're doing? You're too...."

"Some of the other drummers and me!" Michael grinned, eyes sparkling. He threw the bar onto the bank next to Andrew's undergarments and backed away, splashing. "Next you'll be tellin' me you've never played with it!"

"Michael! Shut up!" Andrew barked nervously but the others didn't seem to notice as they took care of their own dirt. "Now get back here so I can scrub your back."

"Only if ya can catch me!" Michael yelled back over his shoulder as he began swimming back into midstream and let the current take him.

"Damnitall," Andrew swore quietly and toyed with the idea of ignoring his brother's antics. Hell, if he wanted to stay dirty then let him! He watched for a minute more, scanning the banks of the river and struck out into the water again when he suddenly realized just how far Michael was going. "Shit!"

Thankfully, Andrew's time among the rest of the wharf-rats found him pulling steadily closer toward his brother. He glanced quickly over his own shoulder a few times to watch as Albert, definitely a child of the plains, doggedly followed in his own clumsy manner. He was growing increasingly nervous in the river current. He hoped Michael would notice soon himself and turn around. His own sharp eyes had thought they'd seen an abatis and a figure hidden behind on the opposite bank of the river. They weren't in the best of equipment for investigating such things if it turned out to be an enemy picket post. What could they do? Piss on them? Well...; "Michael! Get back!"

"Like fish in a barrel." The young man in gray gently pushed a lock of black hair out of his eyes and sighted down the dark blued length of his new Whitworth rifle. They'd received three of these remarkable guns just a few days before and their colonel had carefully selected the men to carry them. The new guns, recently brought from England, had a claimed deadly range of fifteen hundred yards and Private Lewis Foster was itching to see for himself. At least the activity from the other side of the river and the arrival of those boys in green had broken up the boredom of just watching each other. "Let me see what this thing can do."

"I don't think so, Lew," Scott Wallace whispered and placed a restraining hand on the other's shoulder. "My dad's orders were clear, 'Just watch until we're ready for a fight.' Besides, I've seen those guys shoot before and you can see those four watching us. And..." he grinned, pointing out the four men in green opposite their position. He shook his dark, reddish brown hair. "...I'm out of coffee."

"You and your coffee!" Lewis snorted in disgust but relaxed his posture while watching the three boys floating closer. "I could take those three before their friends could do anything!"

"Well, we should have word from my dad before too long." Scott scanned the scene again. He had to agree that Lewis was probably right as usual but his feeling of chivalry balked at the idea of shooting defenseless boys swimming in the river but the internal war raged on. It was their river, not those Yankee boys'. "Gerald should be back soon with word."

"Yeah?" Lewis shrugged quietly. "And what if he says I should'a put a bolt through those boys? You ain't even supposed to be here. I don't know why I'm listening to you, you supposed to be sleepin' right now."

"Oh, stop your whining." Scott grinned evilly and shucked off his 'shell' jacket, shaking to pull his arms free. He then quickly started on the buttons of his shirt, the white cotton discolored from the sweat. "Let me see if we can get some coffee out'a those boys, then you can shoot 'em for all I care.... How you fixed for tobacco?"

"I reckon I've got some to trade." Lewis turned his head to watch transfixed by the weird behavior of his friend as Scott continued to strip his clothes. "I don't use the stuff myself, dad just grows it.... What the hell are you doin'?"

"Goin' for a swim!" Scott replied matter of factly. "I think I recognize the one in the middle....If those other four take a shot at me then take the middle boy first. I've seen him shoot...."

"That pup?" Lewis turned back to watch the figure in the middle as he overtook the boy in front and gestured toward the bank Lewis lay upon. He quickly added up a few stories. "He's the one with the bounty? See if you can get him over here and we can take him easy."

"Not now," Scott sighed loudly and nervously stood up slowly, holding the white shirt and protectively shielding his groin. He was relieved to see the armed men opposite just smiling and one even waved. "Let me do some trading first. Besides, I won't dishonor a flag of truce unless they do."

"You call your dirty shirt a flag of truce?" Lewis smirked and held in the laughter that threatened to burst from his gut. "Tell me the truth Scott. Your father ain't here. You find that Yank to be easy on your eyes, don'tch'a?"

"What?" Scott turned back to stare at his old boyhood partner in mischief. "I ought'a beat you for that, but then where would your poor new bride be? Not that you could'a satisfied her those nights with that little...."

"Get on with ya!" Lewis playfully slapped his friend's bare butt. There was something comfortable in that action, something they'd done eleven years ago, since they were both eight years old in the pond back home. If Scott saw something more in a bare butt than a target for a beating then so be it. After all, Scott had been the one to introduce Martha to him and now, "I told ya I not only satisfied my wife, but that I wasn't firing a blank charge, she's expecting...."

"Your first child!" Scott grinned and gently rubbed the hand mark as he finished Lewis' statement. He was relieved that his old friend had ignored the 'beating' remark. Truth be told, after their last growth spurt, he hadn't been able to best Lewis in their frequent playful bouts of youthful violence. "You've been telling us that for the last five weeks!"

"Fine, fine..." Lewis quietly pushed Scott forward around the sharpened stakes of their position. "Go get your hairy ass in the water and play with your new toys before those Yankees decide to shoot your things off. Your hand ain't doin' much good at hidin' it anyway."

Scott dropped the shirt over a stake and with a glance back, cannon balled into the cold water. He rose with a whoop and struck out for the other boys against the current. He glanced a few times at the Yankee sentries and nervously noted only one visible at the time. The man still appeared to be smiling, but damn those green uniforms!

"Michael! I told you to get your skinny ass back!" Andrew huffed as he treaded water around his brother. "Do you want to be a guest of the rebels dressed as you are? If they've a shot among them, we could be dead now you fool for a broth...."

Andrew stopped when he glanced up to see a familiar form jump into the river from the rebel side. Well, the face and hair had been familiar, the body had been hidden by a uniform last time he'd seen it. His face flushed as he made an unflattering comparison of the southern man's older, developed build compared to his own muscular but skinny frame. He sighed and floated quietly for a moment, just watching for any other activity he could spot. The one with the rifle pointed in their general direction had worried him to no end but seeing the other swimmer had been reassuring. They weren't likely to start shooting with one of their own in the river like he and his brother were.

"I'm sorry, Andy." Michael breathed hard as he began a slow pull toward their side of the river. "I wasn't looking.... What does that boy want of us? He's coming this way."

"I don't know." Andrew allowed a grin to cross his face. "Maybe he wants to bugger you! And after this, I'm tempted to let him do it!"

"What?" Michael turned in confusion. "Why would he...?"

"Why, you say?" Andrew quickly spun a tale as it came to mind, trying to keep a straight face. "Do ya not know the tales of Jackson's men? How they keep the drummers and buglers they take chained to a wagon and fuck them each and every night up the ass a hundred men at a time?"

He held his serious look for as long as possible until Michael's eyes appeared to bug out of his face in shock and sudden fear only to be replaced with outrage when his brother couldn't hold it any longer and began chuckling at the effect his story had.

"I'll take you for a black hearted liar!" Michael's face grew red in the cold water, highlighting his own heavily freckled face in the afternoon sun. "And you my own brother! I'll get you back, Mr. Andrew Griffin!"

"Uh Oh, Andy." Albert finally stroked up to their place in the deep cold water, wishing for once he had more then the light covering of fur on his chest, belly and back. "I think you're in trouble now! Whenever one of you uses a full name...."

"Hello again, Yanks!" Andrew jumped nervously but was thankful his reaction to the voice he'd heard before was mostly hidden by the water.

"Hello yourself, Reb," Andrew spoke up before the others could, taking a deep breath and a kick to free up one arm to extend his hand. He noticed the other man do the same and they exchanged a brief shake before getting back to keeping their heads above the water. "What can we do for you?"

"Well, this is our river y'all are swimming in." Scott smiled to soften his point. "My name is Scott, by the way.... Now normally the toll for lettin' you use it would be a pound of coffee beans but I'll trade some tobacco with ya instead, if you're interested, I should say?"

"Ha!" Michael snorted derisively. "Interested, he says? My brother's face should say it all...."

"Mike!" Andrew barked tiredly. Treading water in the middle of a river wasn't really conductive to negotiations but his pipe had been idle for too long. "I have a half pound to trade in my pack. Let's cut to it and settle on pound for pound."

"Well,..." Scott thought dramatically for a moment before taking some slight pity and settling on the trade. The two boys from opposite sides shook on the deal and began to separate. "Hey! When do we make the trade?"

"I don't know..." Andrew appeared in thought for a minute or two.

"Oh, saints, please!" Michael snorted in disgust and swam quickly for the bank, yelling as he went. "You fools continue to freeze! I'll be getting warm and be back with the coffee in a split!"

In truth, he was glad to keep his distance anyway. Andrew may have been joking but then.... Well, he sure didn't want to find out for sure.

"Damn! he's right." Albert felt his limbs growing heavier in the cold water and pulled a few strokes away. He looked longingly at a sunny, rocky outcropping in the bend they were in but it was in southern hands.

"You're welcome to rest on those rocks this afternoon." Scott had followed the blond boy's gaze. He noticed the redhead's gaze never left his naked brother as Michael? Yes Michael, climbed out and maneuvered down a trail toward the Yankee campsite. The mottled sun gave an ever-changing pattern on the boy's pale flesh as he jogged away, then hopped a few times as his bare feet undoubtedly found a rock or two. He quickly gazed back toward Lewis and sighed to see him and Gerald lounging and at ease, partially hidden behind the embankment. Evidently, boredom had reclaimed the area. "I'm here under flag of truce. You have my word you'll both be safe there while I get my part of our deal from my friend."

"I don't think so...." Andrew saw the same thing and wanted to trust the southern soldier but there was still that story about that price on his head....

"Look, Lew could'a killed or wounded you a long time before this and let you drift to our side by now." Scott smiled quietly and pushed off toward the rocks on his back so he could look at the two Yankee boys. "I gave my word and they'll keep it. I'll be the only one to approach you and I'll stay naked as the day I was born if you want... We'll kill you later but for now I want that trade and so do you."

"Hell! Com'on, Andy." Albert quickly started swimming after the nude southern man, smiling. "Let 'em shoot at me all they want! Anything is better than freezing.... Besides, those rocks are closer and I don't swim all that well!"

"OK, Al," Andrew sighed, thinking of another whipping or worse if he survived this idiocy, and pulled after the other two with still powerful strokes through the water. His scored back had long since gotten used to the cold and ached with the effort but he couldn't leave Albert to face the danger alone. "I'm following."

"Here!" Scott scrambled out and turned to help a grateful Albert out of the cold and onto the warm rock. He couldn't help but grin as the tall blond boy quickly turned his head to the side after almost getting a face full of southern boy and lay on his stomach. He bent to reach for the younger redhead and found his own slightly growing manhood wilt just as fast as the boy's back was finally revealed along with the rest of him. The rest of the slim muscled body, Andrew revealed, was more than attractive but those streaks and wounds had to hurt. "What the hell?"

"It's a long story." Andrew blushed as his own eyes drank in the older boy's things starting to swing between those firm legs as they quickly warmed. He lay, the warm rock against his own flat stomach and quickly adjusted himself to stay comfortable against his own reaction. "I will be a lucky lad to avoid another after this."

"I said nothing will come from my side." Scott sat cross legged by the two heads, his back toward his friend as he drank in the rest of their nude backsides. He sighed to himself. Sure, these two were the enemy and they were supposed to kill each other but all he saw was two boys away from home like he and his friends were... He shook his mane of auburn hair to clear his mind and the other two were invaders again, but the hate just wouldn't come. Sure he'd do his duty and fight when it came to it but he began seeing possible friends in these boys, especially the young redhead. These were two boys he'd have gladly shared a table or a bed with had circumstances been different. "I have nothing to say about yours."

"Well, let me get my part of the deal." Scott shrugged his shoulders and rose back to his feet, never taking his eyes from the sharp, clear green ones that stared back from their sea of freckles that covered the one called 'Andy's' face. He found himself blushing at the realization of his own rigid flagpole reaching for the sky, beating in time with his heart from below his belly. Oh well, God knew his other head didn't know sides in this war. Lewis and Gerald would rib him unmercifully if they saw his raging hardness in front of those Yankee boys but he'd just blame it on the flow of water swirling over the skin, just like he had with Lew when they'd both started growing hair down there. Quietly he turned away and picked his way back up the bank. His hardness diminished slightly but continued to bounce with his steps as he approached his old friend.

"Put that little thing away before you embarrass us." Lewis grinned at his friend, playfully averting his eyes from the body he knew better than his own brother's. "Here's your damn tobacco for that fool coffee you like so much!"

"Thanks, Lew. I'll share with ya as usual...and you know I ain't little! You want to see little, pull your own pants down!" Scott smiled but left himself uncovered around these two friends. Hard pole or not, these two had seen it all anyway. Besides, Lew enjoyed a drink of the bean as much as he did. He glanced at Gerald. "What did my dad say?"

"What do you think the old man said?" Gerald sighed in disgust. "'Just watch! and maybe tomorrow....' So here I sit! I can't believe we're letting two gold pieces just lay there as naked as the day he were born! Shit! Lew here could take 'em both before they could slip back into the water and I could take that boy's privates with my knife just as quick as you please and ready to gift em to that Ranger captain!"

"Gerald! That's enough," Scott snarled back. Naked or not, he'd never back down from anyone. "I gave my word and they ain't to be bothered today. We'll all have our chance later."

"Lew said you'd say that." Gerald shrugged and continued to stare down the bank, quietly thinking before he spoke again. "Enjoy this time, Scott.... Cause I'm thinkin' it'll be different if'n we don't whip those boys soon. There won't be no time for fancy thinkin' like that."

"You may be right, Ger..." Scott turned with his small bundle and scanned the opposite bank to see Andy's brother through the trees, wrapped in a blanket and moving much slower then before. His smile returned as he imagined the scene back in the Yankee's camp. Evidently some of the soldiers, probably an officer or sergeant, had objected to having the naked boy running through the tents. Scott quietly began to pick his way back down to the others. Michael was also 'easy on the eyes' but much too young for his taste. The older brother on the other hand and that tall blond. "I'll be right back."

"OK, Scott." Lewis smiled at his old friend's retreating backside. "Go play with your new toys.... You'll let me know what forty dollars in gold feels like?"

"Hell, I may have to bite on them to make sure they're real gold!" Scott laughed as he returned Lew's brazenness with his own. Gerald may not like or understand but let him find his own release until he could get back to some whore in Richmond! Scott had his own target if only the opportunity presented itself. Those overhanging tree branches would do just fine. When he finally reached the rocks and settled back alongside the others, his eyes feasted on both boys who'd turned onto their sides to stare back at him and the package in his hand. Well, he didn't think it was only the package in his hand that got all the attention. He glanced again from one to the other as each tried to hide proof of their health. He, on the other hand, just felt the heat of his pole piercing his flat belly.

"What are you looking at?" Andrew shifted nervously under the intense blue eyes of the southern boy.

"Hehehe, the same thing you two are." Scott leaned forward and, throwing caution to the wind, pushed the younger soldier's hand away so he could take a firm hold on his stones. He then rolled them gently within their sack, quietly reevaluating the boy's age downward a year or two as he noted the sparse red hairs. "Lew just wanted me to tell him what two gold pieces felt like... They feel fine to me."

"I thought that was just a story...." Andrew's body stiffened along with his penis as the news and the handling he was receiving warred within his mind and body. "We didn't really believe that old contraband...."

"Well, believe him." Scott continued to smile through his grim tone and shifted his grip to the proudly displayed tube above, gently skinning it back to bare the damp, purple head to the air. He found himself loving the feel of each heartbeat he felt. "I'd hate to think I sent him through the lines for nothing."

"You sent him?" Andrew unconsciously thrust his pelvis a little as his body seemed to take on a mind of its own. "Ugh. Why?"

"Well, first to warn you..." Scott grinned wickedly and made himself more available to Andrew's own wandering hand. "...You deserve better than to be cut up like that...and second, he belonged to my lieutenant and Gabriel deserved better than my lieutenant."

"He must'a been angry?" Albert spoke up from behind, he fought to tear his eyes away from the hands stroking the penis he'd seen so often, sometimes even hard, but had only dreamed of at night. He smiled ruefully and felt his face flush even redder than the steel rod between his legs. He could have never just grabbed Andy like that.

"Let's just say that if he ever finds out what happened to his servant,...." Scott's eyes twinkled in the waning afternoon sun. "My back'll be worse off than this fool's." He silently released his grip on the redheaded boy's privates and grabbed the blonde's hand, directing it to where his own had just been. "Here, you tell me if you like the feel as well."

"Sweet mother!" Andrew squirmed at the tugs and caresses that tickled the 'V' where his legs joined his body, sending his butterflies into spasms. "Be careful what you do! I'm attached to the rest down there.... Don't go trying to pull them off!"

"Sorry." Albert relaxed his grip but continued to stroke the rigid yet soft flesh in his hand. He glanced up at the southern boy and breathed out what he'd been unconsciously holding. He was relieved to see the wink from the other as his eyes trailed down to the matching flesh in Andrew's hand. He slid up the rock and turned to present himself. He never knew why but he suddenly bent forward and licked at Scott's swollen head like that whore, he and his brother rented, had done to him in that Washington back alley....

"Here's your damned coff...." Michael's voice trailed off as he saw his brother and the other two suddenly try to rearrange themselves, the southern boy's hand now trapped under his brother. An evil smile started to spread across his face at finding his fifteen year old brother engaged in something so forbidden. "Sergeant Meyers wants you to finish and be back within the hour."

"All right, Michael." Andrew winced and lifted himself up to free his penis and the hand that held it. He struggled in consternation when the fingers didn't let go but gripped harder to the southern man's laughter. Scott and Michael well and truly had him by more than his small patch of short hairs. "Thank you....Now go away!"

"No." A suddenly shy Michael attempted to cover himself in front of the older boys but stood his ground bravely. His wide eyes were fixed on the end of his brothers penis, peeking out from under him and leaving a noticeable wet mark on the stone under him. He'd seen all his brother's hard poles at one time or another but this was so different, watching it being 'milked' like a cow's teat.... And then there was what Albert had seemed to do. "I want to know what you're doing."

"Well, you little coot, it should be obvious even to you." Scott smiled and stretched his legs out in front of him. What was there to hide anyway. Let the boy get an eyeful if he wanted one. "We were about to enjoy some horizontal refreshment. So why don't you do what your brother asks?"

"I aint no little coot! Andy's only two year older'n me! ...Andy?" Michael quickly glanced from face to face and groin to groin and decided he'd better use both hands to hide his fondest parts. He and some of the drummer boys he'd run with back near Washington had spied on what the washerwoman did to supplement her income and had even played with their new toys together afterward, but, "I thought you was funnin' me about that other. You aint gon'a let anyone put their thing up your backside, are you?"

"Michael!" Andrew sputtered out in consternation and relief as Scott finally let go. "No, we're not...."

"Not that I wouldn't mind trying...." Scott winked at the younger version of the boy he'd been caressing,...only two years older? 'Well, Andy certainly had only looked fourteen or fifteen but what he'd held of the boy would do his papa proud!' Scott thought and shifted his grip to one of Andrew's firm globes. He was amazed at the warmth assaulting his fingers as they buried themselves in the deep valley between. He winked again at the younger brother. "But I have to say that you're lookin' mighty fine yourself...."

"Not me, you don't!" Michael found his legs again and scrambled backward to fall into the water. His head rose a moment later a few more body lengths away from the bank, his eyes filled the aspects of his face. "He's joking, ain't he, Andy?"

"No!" All three said in unison, barely contained laughter dancing in three sets of eyes. Andrew fought to keep the rest of his face impassive. "Now get back to camp, you little pie eater! We'll be along shortly...and if you tell anyone...."

When Michael turned and pulled away toward the opposite bank, legs kicking for all they were worth, Andrew quickly reached back to get a firm hold on the southerner's sensitive parts.

"What all did I say?" Scott glanced down and followed the slim fingers wrapped around his cock to their owner, who'd begun laughing uncontrollably. His confusion was fleeting as the focus began to transfer to lower regions.

"I told Mike..." Andrew began before another fit struck him. "I told him.... Never mind. It's not important."

"OK." Scott quickly chalked it up to those strange exchanges among brothers. As the youngest in his own family, he'd been victim enough as well. He placed a restraining hand over Andrew's arm and smirked to himself at his idea. "Not so fast, my strawberry Yank."

"What?" Andrew quickly wiped the laugh-tears with his free hand and stared up into Scott's sparkling blue eyes above him. "To be sure...I'm no fruit to picked at your whim. Besides, you're as red...."

"No, no, no," Scott sighed in exasperation and turned to the tall blond boy. "Is he always as dense as a spring fog? Wouldn't you like to sample his berries too?"

"Not here." Andrew quickly lowered himself back prone. "We'll be seen."

"Well, it's a little late to think of that!" Albert laughed and threw his arm back in a sweeping motion. "Apparently our host is the only one not thinking with his prick. We're in a hollow here. Unless you get up on your knees, you'll never be noticed here." He looked at Scott's wickedly grinning face and swatted Andrew's hand away so he could grasp the southern boy himself. "And yes, I'd love to taste his berries, but I give you that pleasure. I'll return to my target."

"Andy!" Scott almost moaned hurriedly. The shock of blond hair suddenly pressed against his flat belly tickled but not nearly as much as the warm mouth and stroking tongue that enveloped his cock, stripping back the flesh that usually protected his smaller head. "Turn around...ugh."

"But..." Andrew shook his head slightly and tore his wide eyes away from the sight of the pulsing red flesh disappearing past Albert's pink lips. He shook uncontrollably as he somehow managed to turn his body without raising himself at all, though for a moment he wondered how much flesh he'd rub off doing that. "What do I...."

"Sweet heaven!...damn!" Scott had to fight back the urge to laugh out loud while watching the young redhead move but then, his own 'target' hove into view. He pushed Andrew's body a little further away to give himself a more comfortable position and bent closer.

"Just follow..." another wave of intense feelings convulsed Scott's body, starting at the head of his cock, "...our lead."

"Ughhh!...Oww!" Andrew felt a streak of pain course through his back when he involuntarily arched into the moist warmth and dancing tongue that enveloped the head of his penis. His heart thundered in his ears as he forced himself to try to relax and tentativly leaned forward to lick at the red head of Albert's cock peeking through its skin covering, following the others' lead. The slightly salty slickness surprised him but he found there to be not much else to taste as his tongue peeled the knob bare.

Andrew pulled back and glanced beck down his body. All his muscles seemed to go rigid the same instant he felt the wave of release flow out of him, the individual shots giving him the most enjoyable cramping he'd ever felt. He felt his face flush hotly while Scott's hand still massaged his drawn up balls as they joined the throbbing of his heartbeat. Damn! He hadn't taken but a second....

Scott smiled internally as he shrugged off his brief surprise, and swallowing, kept the overly hot flesh between his lips and tongue. He should have been more prepared for the quick response from the younger redhead. As it was, he'd only stared, fascinated, as he first felt and then saw the thick ropes traveling up the underside of the cock he'd been tasting, to shoot across his tongue and tonsils. Each forceful blast had noticeably expanded the pronounced ridge that ran the length of Andy's cock before he tasted the salty sweetness. 'Nope, not like strawberries, but still nice....'

Scott pulled away and grinned at Andrew's sweat soaked, smooth, heaving chest and gently milked the boy a few more times and watched as the last pearly white drops oozed out of his slit to fall to the rock below. He playfully wiggled the fleshy tube in his hand and shooed away the persistent fly that had been buzzing around them. He didn't know if it was a biting fly but regardless, figured Andy wouldn't want to find out on that part of his body. "Ugh! Sweet...."

Albert quickly engulfed the southern boy's throbbing organ again, smiling around it as he felt the strong pulse. He hadn't believed the feeling that washed through him when Andrew had taken that first tentative step and licked around his leaking tip.

"Andy, finish your comrade... Just do what you were...." Albert heard the southerner whispering huskily under his breath and felt that moist warmth cover his most private part again. He moved back up, letting his tongue dance around in its own inexperienced way. It must have been enough though, because the young man he suckled suddenly tensed himself and set off not only his but Albert's explosions....

"Did I do it right?" Andrew looked at the other two as they caught their breath. His own rod was stiff again but now throbbed almost painfully in its increased sensitivity. The sensation when Albert had started spilling his seed had surprised Andrew and forced him off only to catch the next shots in his hair and face. "What are ya laughing at?"

"A little pup who got caught in the crossfire...." Scott continued chuckling in his post-orgasmic bliss and punched the tall furry blond boy in the arm. "Well, did the boy do it right?"

"Gawd yesss!" Albert squeaked through his tight chest as the muscles relaxed. "I wouldn't mind...."

"Scott! Your father..." Lewis' urgent voice caused the three naked boys to jump and cover. Lew stood and rocked back a bit from where he'd descended with his warning. What he'd seen splashed across the youngster's hair and the reddish tinge to their privates told him the tale all too well. His grimace of disgust slowly dissolved into an evil grin. For as long as they'd known each other, Scott had always been capable of the most outrageous things, even giving up the most beautiful girl to him. Besides, out here, who could say where you put your thing for fun. "...Your father wants to see ya now! Ah brung your drawers!" he quickly stole a glance at the others, who'd been so occupied they hadn't heard him. 'Just keep thinkin' with your balls, Yanks' he thought to himself. "If you other boys don't want'a meet your maker, y'all better git!"

"Shit!" Andrew unconsciously slipped back and grabbed the wrap of tobacco he'd originally come for. "Be well."

He and Albert slithered quietly into the cold river and struck out for the opposite bank with strong kicks. He glanced back to watch the southern soldier tuck himself back into his woolen underpants and scan the, once again, hostile bank. His face blanched when he saw the five irregular horsemen in the distance watching his progress so he carefully stifled the wave he'd wanted to give his new friend/enemy.

"Take care of yourself...." Scott whispered more to himself, but his thoughts were with the two heads he watched in the water. Cussing quietly, he carefully forced the head of his penis back within its sheath before pulling the rough homespun, his sisters had sent, up into place and followed his old friend back to their 'hide'. He swore he could feel the heat of his father's wrath descending on him already.

"Ohhh,...tis sweet." Andrew whispered and smiled to himself as he drew the rich southern tobacco smoke through his late father's little used pipe and into his little used lungs. He instantly regretted his haste as he was wracked by a sneezing cough that pierced the smoky darkness of his post out on the extreme left of the company's position and near what he'd barely made out to be a single story clapboarded church through the dim moon and fire-light.

"Take it easy with that, Andy." Albert chuckled quietly. "I'm glad Stephen and little Mike didn't say anything to the Sergeant about what we did when I asked to change my tent and room with ya."

"What was there for them to say?" Andrew merely shrugged and stayed silent as he drew on his pipe again, eyes slightly unfocused with the tobacco's effect. 'What was there for them to say indeed' he thought guiltily. 'Did he now love that southern boy? ...or was it Albert now?' his older brother had asked. Andrew had hemmed and hawed at that question uncomfortably, unable to answer until Stephen had supplied the why of it himself.

Andrew barely remembered sitting hard by his cook fire when Stephen told him their mother was well aware of his love for Robert and how she and they had even embraced his bend toward that side as long as it made him happy and loved, but what Stephen and they could not abide would be his acting like some army whore! When Andrew had responded that the whole incident had been nothing more than the three of them stealing some fun and that it had meant nothing..., he realized that he'd just made Stephen's case all the stronger against himself. So now what to do?

"A penny for your thoughts?" Albert smiled wistfully at the serious face of the young man sitting next to him. "Are you sorry for what we did? Steve looked like he was ready to chew nails...."

"Yes,...no! I don't know...." Andrew turned away to stare into the dark. "I mean... what would yours say if they knew? Me own ma knows.... I should'a known I couldn't hide from her eyes. I mean she knew about me and Robby... and now here I go and...."

"I know, Andy." Albert hid his own emotions behind his unseen scowl. He felt himself slump. "I'm sorry. I saw you and Robert almost every day.... If you want to blame someone, blame me. I was jealous and wanted today more than you'll know and it meant more to me than.... Well, if you want, I'll move back with Elisha...."

"No." Andrew shook his head and stood to stretch his limbs as he pulled in another lung full of 'real' tobacco again. "I don't want you to swap back.... I don't mind ya, just be givin' me some time... and let's put the blaze out. I need my night-sight."

"OK." Albert breathed out in sad relief and absently began kicking dirt over their fire as he watched the young redhead's back slowly disappear into the gloom. "Do you think you could ever...nevermind...I'll be right here."

"Shhhh! Quiet!" Andrew quickly dropped his pipe and turned back, retrieving his rifle from where it leaned against the tree they'd been posted at and checked the small pistol stuck in his belt. The mass pressing into his back and the weight in his hands gave small comfort as his ears tried to pick up what his eyes couldn't. There it was again! He motioned quickly at his, now alert, comrade and they moved back into the trees. The sound of a horse had been unmistakable that time, even though it sounded so far away, too far away to smell anyway. Wet leather would have told him something anyway. Andrew whispered a silent prayer toward the crickets surrounding them, whose sudden silence had blessed them.

"Damnit! I can't see a thing," Albert's whisper degenerated into a breathless hiss. "Think it's that Pennsylvania cavalry Meyers told us about?"

"I don't know..." Andrew's quavering voice hissed back as he slowly crouched with his back to a tree, motioning for Albert to do the same. "...but if not, they know where we are.... I'd be sure of it...."

"OK, Andy...." Albert fought to keep his own voice from shaking in response to the rush that flowed through his body. Somehow, he could feel that Andy's state matched his own, while imagining the unseen movement around them. "What the hell?"

"No!" Andrew snarled under his breath as he glanced toward the approaching, feeble splash of lantern light and the three figures it resolved. The taller ones and their voices told him that Henry Scott had been detailed to make the rounds with Sergeant Young that night. The short figure between them forced his heart to stop before it climbed into his throat!

Thinking only of his promise to his mother, he sprang forward away from his shelter and out on the trail. God, he would be in perfect silhouette against that light but.... He yelled out his warning; "Michael! Get...."

Crack! The first ball passed through his sleeve as he flung himself down into the dirt and scrambled for the safety of the trees again. His ears rang with Albert's answering shot to the fusillade that descended on them. He recognized the reports of pistols mostly but the heavier sound of at least two long guns were interspersed.

"Oh God! No!" His eyes registered the body lying next to the spilled lantern and he started to heave himself up to see who it was. He started to scream Michael's name again but the sound of his little brother's bugle piercing the dark stilled him. He quickly brought his rifle around the tree trunk and spotted a flash and smoke. Aim! Fire! Reload!

The flash from his own muzzle blinded him momentarily. Fire! Drop the breech! Load! Cock! Fire! Damn! He may not have hit anybody but he'd play hell with the trees! The only satisfaction would be that their assailants' vision would be just as bad as his now. It was now a fight to the death between two sets of blind men! Reload! Fire!

"Andy?" Albert called out into the dark as he loaded another cartridge and pulled the triggerguard back up, raising the breechblock and cutting off the end to expose the powder to the percussion cap's flame. His best guess was that he'd fired sixteen or seventeen rounds before both sides had stopped firing in recognition that they weren't hitting anything but woods. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine...." Andrew called back reassuringly. He glanced quickly around at the pockmarks barely visible in the trees and at the body of Private Scott, he couldn't see any stripes, as its clothes smoldered, then caught in the open lantern flame. "Sergeant Young? Michael?"

"I'm here!" Sergeant Asa Young called out. "I've sent Mike back after he sounded out! ...Now shut up!"

"Hey, youuu whooo, Andy?" The voice from across the field mocked. "It took us a while to beat it out'a that traitor but if'n you're the boy that was across the river today, we've come for you.... So why don't ya come on out? Your friend'd like to see ya again! Maybe y'all can do some more tradin'?

"What did you do...?" Andrew blurted out before he could control his tongue. His fingers tightened around his rifle stock involuntarily as he shook the sweat out of his eyes. "You'll have to come get me!"

"Private Griffin! Shut up!" Asa slid up beside the boy-soldier and placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. He pitched his voice into a whisper. "Let them do the talking...you just listen in case they try to get behind us."

"Don't you worry yourself none...." The voice in the darkness spoke out again. "The boy's pappy wouldn't let us hurt him too bad.... Yet! ...Tell ya what, we'll make a trade right now! ...How's about you for three of your Yankee pony-boys we come across?"

"Andrew..." Sergeant Young squeezed his hand tighter on the shoulder. "Don't you move!" He next directed his voice at the anonymous speaker. "How do I know you're speaking the truth?"

"Hell! Ya don't!" The voice almost seemed to laugh, then grew quiet for a few minutes, as if in thought. "But if ya insist...look over by the church!

Three figures were pushed out to be illuminated by a weak flickering torch held aloft from the door. Andrew swallowed hard and glanced at the sergeant's face and then to the body in the trail. It had started burning furiously during the lull and begun filling the trees with an unimaginable stench and a glow straight from hell itself, punctuated with flashes of powder. He shrugged Asa's hand loose and started to move out. "Sergeant? I can't.... They'll kill those men."

"Andy, stay still!" Sergeant Young muttered quietly, his grimace partly hidden by his huge sideburns and the flickering shadows. "Those men are dead already! I'll not lose you too!"

"But?" Andrew ducked back and watched in horror as his sergeant suddenly swung around their tree and, leveling his rifle, fired into the three figures. His horror deepened to outrage when the two survivors produced pistols and ducked back into the building, firing as they went!

Craaaack! The fire suddenly exploded again, the sound merging together! Andrew pushed himself flat, wishing that his buttons weren't there to keep him from pressing further into the ground as he pulled his rifle tight and fired again in response to the general eruption of fire all around and through the trees.

A sharp commotion broke out to their left and Andrew stole a glance that way and started to swing his rifle that way but soon gave that idea up as he suddenly realized he couldn't tell whose flashes were whose anyway. He could only guess that his company had made contact with somebody trying to get behind him but he did know that lead was flying from everyone and going everywhere! Over the mayhem he heard his brother sounding the advance again and returned to his task, trying to get as little between him and ground as he fired and serviced his weapon!

Quickly Andrew became aware of the slackening fire returned their way and the weak sound of assembly coming from the bugle as the officers tried to regain control before advancing again to make sure their enemy's raiding party had truly gone.

"Andy?" He turned when he heard the high but tired voice of his brother behind him. Michael was standing shakily next to Captain Fessenden, stealing glances at the remains of the man he'd been walking with a short time before. "Are you all right? I was sure you'd been shot that first volley the way you dropped...."

"It was close, oh brother of mine." Andrew absently fingered the hole in his sleeve and looked back up at his brother. Michael's left arm hung at his side as he continued to teeter. He suddenly became aware of the ragged, wet tear about halfway down from Michael's elbow. "Mike? What!"

"Andrew?" The captain tried to catch his eyes and avoid them at the same time. "I tried to get him to stay at camp when he came back wounded but he wouldn't hear of it and came on anyway... He wouldn't stay back! I tried!"

"I...I don't need me left...." Michael grimaced and flinched when he moved his arm to display the hastily applied wrap just above his immobile hand. "...Just me ri...right and me m...mouth."

"Oh, Michael!" Andrew crawled on his knees over to embrace his little brother carefully. "What's to be done now? What will our mother say?"

"That...that we are fam...family?" Michael swayed hard onto his brother's shoulder for support. His next words were a whisper barely heard. "I...I was true to me brothers."

"Aye, ya are." Andrew smiled through his powder blackened and tear stained face. "Now let me get ya to Oscar."

"Go ahead, Andrew." Captain Fessenden nodded his assent and then turned to follow the two with his eyes as his youngest rifleman cradled his little brother carefully in his tired arms. "And you tell that boy that he'll always find a home with us... His place will be waiting for him!" He turned back to look at the sergeant, who seemed lost in thought himself. "One handed or not...."

End of part 2

I'd first like to thank Ed again for all his hard work making my writing all the more readable.

I'd also like to thank Steve for all his help and encouragement as we've both spent many nights writing and sharing our efforts with each other, deciding what works and what didn't.

Once again, I'd like to ask you for your feedback on this chapter. It's how I gauge what I've done right and wrong with each effort as I try to stay true to the time period, in action and speech and also in the characters presented.

A quick note or two.

*'Unnatural acts' between soldiers or sailors (As it was called back then) were forbidden by the articles of war but there were no charges ever brought against a Union soldier for those acts during the entire Civil War and only two cases against four sailors were brought before a military court. Given the number of men and boys involved, there were at least 30,000-80,000 of them in the Union army alone, who were attracted to other men and boys. The lack of prosecutions leads to only one conclusion: What you could do as a soldier was more important than what you did privately in your tent! Something the military of the 21st century could learn from the Army of the 19th century.

*Trade and fraternization between the sides was a common practice when they weren't shooting at each other.

*Floggings were still a mandated punishment at the company level. Punishments handed down at a General Court were more severe and many times resulted in death once the warrant was signed by the President. (Acting as Commander in Chief.)

Again, Please let me know what you think of this latest effort of mine. I do my best to answer every one.

Thank you. Willy B. (willyb184@aol.com)