I N MID- FEBRUARY, SIX WEEKS AFTER WE’D LEFT ROMNEY, JIM BLUE’S father waited for an
opening in the weather and then, driving his weatherworn wagon1, braved the frozen Valley road
to haul bundles of food and clothing from our families. He also toted letters from home and
newspapers. Beards settled down on a log with the Staunton Spectator spread on his knees and a
salty ham biscuit in one hand. Contentment played across his features until he read the
headlines. “Look at this! It says the Confederate government plans to draft men for two more
years, or until the end of the war. That can’t be.”
“What’s a draft? I never heard of a draft,” McCorkle said. He spat2 toward the campfire and
scratched his ankle. All of us were peppered with red lice bites.
“I think it means they’re going after every man fit to fight and won’t let him go until they’re
finished with him. It’s something new. It’s got nothing to do with volunteering or free choice, as
I understand it,” said Jim Blue.
“Let me see that,” Zeke said. Frowning, he held the grease-stained paper before his nose for a
few minutes. “Well, I’ll be damned. If that’s not a poke3 in the eye. What about that noble
speechifying on people’s rights we heard from the new government? They must have forgotten
about all that.” He then read aloud that we could re-enlist now with our current company—that
being Company D—or we could go home, lay about for a few weeks, and then for absolute
certain, be called back to fight.
Pa also saw the news and sent me a letter outlining what he viewed to be my options. First,
he recommended that I re-enlist where I was. That way I’d remain with long-time Augusta
comrades on whom I could depend and the leaders whom I knew. Strangers wouldn’t value my
fate as highly, and new leaders would have unpredictable flaws. Jackson’s Brigade was
guaranteed to stay in Virginia. If drafted, I might be sent to Kentucky, Mississippi, Texas, or
who knows where, too far to furlough home and out of reach of home provisions. He also
speculated that anyone who deserted4 now would be in serious trouble. Pa was safe from the
draft. Besides being too old, he was a miller5, and like blacksmiths, worked at a profession vital
for supplying the army.
Zeke was deluded6 to think we’d ever had much of a choice. Sure, we’d enlisted7 voluntarily,
but quickly our three-month term had been extended to a year. Now the government had us by
the scruff of the neck until the end of the war, and who could say when that would be. By the
time of this latest news, most boys couldn’t tolerate their officers and didn’t much fancy being
shot at or killing8 others. I was one of those, but in addition, the agonized9 screams of men and
horses in battle now haunted me. Nightly I heard them as I trudged10, shivering and teeth
chattering11, through icy dreamscapes with towering peaks of snow.
In a shrinking realm of choices, another was to just plain quit soldiering. During the first
year, boys wandered off because they couldn’t stand erect—much less fight—while sick with
chronic12 dysentery, measles13, mumps14, and typhoid. Afterward15, they just stayed home. They
sauntered off to visit friends engaged in battles elsewhere, journeyed down the Valley to visit an
ailing16 wife or child, or chose to linger awhile in areas unaffected by the war. Drifting back into
camp, they paid for their sins with a night or two in the guardhouse or sloshing the officers’
laundry in a nearby creek17. But that all changed after the draft and the first full winter of the war.
I had a passing late acquaintance with a deserter—Dallas Bunn from Wake County, a plug-
short, straw-headed fellow whose superior skills on the mouth harp18 drew our notice. Everyone
called him Jug19, as his protruding20 ears resembled handles. He was only eighteen when he was
drafted with his cousin Wesley Bunn, ten years older. A year must have seemed aplenty,
because the Bunn cousins then ran off with eight other North Carolina boys in May ’62, just
after our second battle of the year, First Winchester. In camp we were used to hearing the North
Carolinians grouse21 even louder than Virginians about being forced to fight. They had less at
stake; their homes weren’t being invaded. As an older man when I studied books analyzing22 the
war, I learned another reason they were less enthusiastic. Seventy-five percent of folks in the
entire South owned not one slave and got no benefit from the practice. But with the draft, they
were all forced to defend it.
When we got wind that Jug had been among the captured, Beards and I trudged over to the
log brig to visit. The number of armed guards patrolling the perimeter23 was a bad sign. “Hey,
Jug! Are you somewhere in there?” Beards hollered toward the window. A mournful- eyed
Dallas Bunn appeared behind the bars, his pale face scratched red from his time in the brush.
“Yep. Can’t go no place else.” A sigh so deep it sounded like it was dug from the ground
came out of his chest.
“You’re in a fine kettle of fish, boy. What the hell happened?” Beards had met Jug during his
campground tours in the evenings. Dallas drew closer to the opening. He looked both ways
before speaking in a low voice.
“Someone must have snitched on us. That’s the only way I figure we ended up here. I never
fathomed25 this outcome yesterday when we lit off for the foothills. We’re mountain folk and
figured we’d be out of catching’s way in that tough terrain26 before word got out,” he said.
“Someone snitched for sure.” His knuckles27 whitened on the cell bars. “I’ll make him pay if I
ever find out.”
“How’d you get caught?” I asked.
“All in all, it was rougher going than we reckoned. On foot we couldn’t get much ahead of
the mounted scouts28 if they knew where we was headed.” He sighed again and shifted his weight.
“Goddamned snitch. Otherwise, I’d be gone by now.”
“I know how hard going that country is,” I said. I’d once gone bear hunting with Pa in the
Blue Ridge29 Mountains. It was a custom for all thirteen-year-old males. I was amazed to see how,
up and down the Valley, barn-sized boulders30 braced31 one another—tumbled eons ago from their
perch32 at the top. They littered the forest. Rocky terrain and serpentine33 tree roots ensnared boots
and made climbing difficult work. Dense34 growths of blueberry bushes, laurel, and rhododendron
crowded the slopes and at times made them impassable. Under their branches laden35 with pink
and white blossoms in late May, toxic36 poison ivy37 sprang up and twisted its hairy tendrils into
nearby trees. Poison ivy is everywhere in Virginia, but it’s even worse in the mountains. An
unwary passerby38 was guaranteed days of itchy welts and seeping39 blisters40 after contact with its
leaves— unless he knew about the antidote41 of a smear42 of jewelweed. We soldiers rejoiced
whenever we saw poison ivy’s watery43 pimples44 speckling the faces of Yankee corpses—boys
who a day or so earlier had flopped45 down in the midst of the unfamiliar46 weed to take aim at us.
Jug told us how, when the ten of them finally reached the summit, they found a toothless
crone, wrinkled as a cabbage, squatted47 in front of a poor shanty48. She had a wounded rabbit laid
across her lap that she was cutting loose from a crude leather and stick trap. It appeared to be
near dead with fear.
“My word, where’d y’all come from?” she cried, dropping the creature. One look told her the
boys were runaways49. “Lightening should be about here, yet there was nary a sound. It’s a
mystery why he didn’t warn me of you fellows.” She looked to and fro, and then keened out his
name.
Jug told us how her wolf-like dog scared them to death when he bounded into the clearing,
but the dog wasn’t interested in them. He hurled50 himself toward the rocky ledge51, baying his
heart out. The old woman said the dog’s barking must mean that more folks were coming their
way, and she suspected this time they were trackers. She hurried the boys to a dilapidated pigsty52
behind her shack53 and instructed them to lie low. Grabbing the rigid54 rabbit by its hind24 legs, she
ran into her shanty and slammed shut the rickety slab55 door. A heavy crossbar thunked into place
inside.
Beards was aggravating56 a pebble57 back and forth58 with his shoe while Jug talked. “Unh-oh, that
spells trouble,” he said.
“It sure as hell was,” Jug said. “A heap more trouble than we needed. Pretty soon two
Confederate scouts rode over the ridge, that dog yammering at their heels. The soldiers foraged59
around for sturdy tree branches and then rammed60 the door through and drove the old woman
into the yard, butcher knife in hand. My mouth waters now just thinking what a fine stew61 that
rabbit would have made.” He said the old woman dropped her knife like a hot stone and cried
out when the soldiers threatened her with drawn62 pistols. She was quivering and shaking so, he
felt bad about bringing trouble upon her.
“Did you recognize either of the soldiers?” I asked.
“No, but the tall blonde one threatened to burn down her shanty if the old woman didn’t
confess where the runaways were hiding,” he said. She jabbed a scrawny finger to where Jug
and the others were bunched up peering through the pigsty’s knotholes. The soldiers hollered,
“We know you cowards are in there. Show your faces, and we might go easy on you.” The boys
were frozen in place, speechless. “You get one more invitation to join me and my friend out
here, or we’ll set you afire,” they hollered.
“That last threat must have scared you aplenty,” I said.
“You bet it did, but we were quiet as church mice except for my cousin Wes. His piss made a
noise splashing the ground.” He said the light-haired soldier lit a branch from a match struck on
his boot heel and approached the back of the hovel. Eyes bulging63, Wes set the tip of his rifle
against a large knothole. Jug said he poked64 him and made motions not to shoot, but Wes fired
anyway. They couldn’t tell if he meant to, or if his trigger finger was trembling so hard that
terror made it happen. His bullet struck the short one with the beard, an officer named Malleck.
An oath flew out of his mouth as well as a shower of teeth, blood, and mess before he tumbled
over.
“Son of a bitch!” Beards stopped fiddling65 with the pebble. My mouth had dropped open at
that piece of news.
“My god, you’re really in for it now,” I said.
A sob66 choked Jug’s voice. “None of us wanted that man to die. Wes just intended to stop him
from setting us afire. We never meant to hurt nobody.”
“What’d you do next? You had no place to run to,” Beards said.
Jug said he and the boys had kicked open the door and fallen out in a frightened pile, tripping
over themselves with their hands raised. They believed that surely the remaining soldier would
see it was an accident and give them clemency67 for turning themselves in. “They’d promised it,”
he said.
He took a long pause. “But that’s not what they have in mind now. Oh Lord, I’d like to see
Ma and Sis one more time.” His voice trailed off at the end, and sobs68 welled up. He sobbed69 until
he couldn’t get his breath.
Beards passed his hand through the bars and squeezed Jug’s shoulder. “Oh, man, I’m sorry,”
he said.
I shook my head in sympathy. “Me too,” I said bleakly70. But there was nothing we could do to
help. He gave a hopeless shrug71 and disappeared into the cell’s darkness.
I saw them all die. Jackson detailed72 an equal number of shooters from each company, and
they were divided into ten squads73, one for each deserter. An additional ten reserve shooters were
also chosen. In all, one hundred and ten men were selected. Imagine that—being ordered by
your commanding general to mow74 down the very boys who’d covered you in battle and with
whom you’d enlisted. These boys were not our enemies, but our brothers. I’d rather have been
shot myself than to be a shooter.
At the bugle75 call after breakfast, Tayloe, Beards, McCorkle, and the rest of us gathered into
winding76 double lines that snaked along three sides of a broad wheat field. Thousands of men
gathered there in formation—Jackson’s entire brigade. Not a sound was uttered as we waited.
Across from us on the fourth side of the field were ten upright logs dug in the ground earlier that
morning. Each was a little taller than a man’s head. I couldn’t look at that scene but wondered at
the peacefulness of the moment. Breezes ruffled77 the wheat and hinted at the advancing warmth
of summer. A red- tail hawk78 caught the uprising drafts and circled overhead, wings tipped
toward the sun.
Finally, guards paraded the ten deserters around the division to wooden posts. I tried to catch
Dallas Bunn’s eye, but each condemned79 man bore his head high and eyes straight ahead like he
was proud to be singled out. Beards repeatedly cleared his throat next to me, and nervous
coughs disturbed the silence.
A guard bound the boys’ hands behind the stakes, bandaged their eyes with white strips of
cloth, and then gave a hand signal to the firing party. Ready, aim, shoot and a hundred muskets80
belched81 forth. All spat bullets at the same moment, but not all found their mark. The ten reserves
were then called out to stand before their squads. They were ordered to fire again. Their reduced
number and prominence82 on the field made it impossible to intentionally83 aim a bullet too low or
too high. When all was done—when death finally quelled84 the last twitching85 and hushed the last
moan—the division paraded past those boys, now sliced almost in half by the volley of bullets.
Most of them, like Dallas, were only nineteen years of age.
Zeke, famous for his precision aim, had been chosen from our company to join the execution
squads. I could see Zeke clearly from where I stood. He tried to conceal86 his weeping and the
tremor87 in his hands, but I knew. Many of us feigned88 protecting our eyes from the sun’s glare to
hide the disgracing tears. It’s one thing for a man to take aim at pillagers, but it is quite another
to witness fellows shot dead for yielding to feelings familiar to the rest of us. As we trudged past
the bodies, I heard a boy behind me pray, “May you all rest in peace with the angels of God
around His throne on high.” Camp was somber89 that night, with packed attendance at prayer
meeting.
点击
收听单词发音
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1
wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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2
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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3
poke
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| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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miller
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| n.磨坊主 | |
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deluded
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| v.欺骗，哄骗( delude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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7
enlisted
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| adj.应募入伍的v.（使）入伍， （使）参军( enlist的过去式和过去分词 )；获得（帮助或支持） | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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agonized
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| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
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trudged
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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11
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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12
chronic
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| adj.(疾病)长期未愈的，慢性的；极坏的 | |
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13
measles
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| n.麻疹，风疹，包虫病，痧子 | |
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14
mumps
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| n.腮腺炎 | |
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15
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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16
ailing
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| v.生病 | |
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17
creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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18
harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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19
jug
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| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
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20
protruding
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的现在分词 )；凸 | |
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21
grouse
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| n.松鸡；v.牢骚，诉苦 | |
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22
analyzing
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| v.分析；分析( analyze的现在分词 )；分解；解释；对…进行心理分析n.分析 | |
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23
perimeter
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| n.周边，周长，周界 | |
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24
hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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25
fathomed
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| 理解…的真意( fathom的过去式和过去分词 )； 彻底了解； 弄清真相 | |
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26
terrain
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| n.地面，地形，地图 | |
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27
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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28
scouts
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| 侦察员[机，舰]( scout的名词复数 )； 童子军； 搜索； 童子军成员 | |
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29
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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30
boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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31
braced
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| adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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32
perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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33
serpentine
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| adj.蜿蜒的，弯曲的 | |
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34
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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toxic
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| adj.有毒的，因中毒引起的 | |
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37
ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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38
passerby
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| n.过路人，行人 | |
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39
seeping
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| v.（液体）渗( seep的现在分词 )；渗透；渗出；漏出 | |
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40
blisters
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| n.水疱( blister的名词复数 )；水肿；气泡 | |
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41
antidote
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| n.解毒药，解毒剂 | |
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42
smear
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| v.涂抹；诽谤，玷污；n.污点；诽谤，污蔑 | |
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43
watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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pimples
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| n.丘疹，粉刺，小脓疱( pimple的名词复数 ) | |
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45
flopped
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| v.（指书、戏剧等）彻底失败( flop的过去式和过去分词 )；（因疲惫而）猛然坐下；（笨拙地、不由自主地或松弛地）移动或落下；砸锅 | |
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46
unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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47
squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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48
shanty
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| n.小屋，棚屋；船工号子 | |
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49
runaways
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| （轻而易举的）胜利( runaway的名词复数 ) | |
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50
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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51
ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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52
pigsty
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| n.猪圈，脏房间 | |
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53
shack
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| adj.简陋的小屋，窝棚 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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slab
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| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
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56
aggravating
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| adj.恼人的，讨厌的 | |
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57
pebble
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| n.卵石，小圆石 | |
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58
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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59
foraged
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| v.搜寻（食物），尤指动物觅（食）( forage的过去式和过去分词 )；（尤指用手）搜寻（东西） | |
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60
rammed
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| v.夯实（土等）( ram的过去式和过去分词 )；猛撞；猛压；反复灌输 | |
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61
stew
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| n.炖汤，焖，烦恼；v.炖汤，焖，忧虑 | |
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62
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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bulging
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| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
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poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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65
fiddling
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| 微小的 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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clemency
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| n.温和，仁慈，宽厚 | |
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68
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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bleakly
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| 无望地，阴郁地，苍凉地 | |
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shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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squads
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| n.（军队中的）班( squad的名词复数 )；（暗杀）小组；体育运动的运动（代表）队；（对付某类犯罪活动的）警察队伍 | |
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mow
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| v.割（草、麦等），扫射，皱眉；n.草堆，谷物堆 | |
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bugle
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| n.军号，号角，喇叭；v.吹号，吹号召集 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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muskets
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| n.火枪，（尤指）滑膛枪( musket的名词复数 ) | |
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belched
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| v.打嗝( belch的过去式和过去分词 )；喷出，吐出；打（嗝）；嗳（气） | |
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prominence
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| n.突出；显著；杰出；重要 | |
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intentionally
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| ad.故意地，有意地 | |
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quelled
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| v.（用武力）制止，结束，镇压( quell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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feigned
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| a.假装的，不真诚的 | |
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somber
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| adj.昏暗的，阴天的，阴森的，忧郁的 | |
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