ShilohChapter 32 Shiloh
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After Shiloh free porn video
I woke up not knowing or remembering exactly where I was or what I was doing there. I did know that I had a fierce headache. Touching the right side of my head I could feel a little dried blood just above my ear and then I started to remember where I was and how I got there. I knew I was somewhere in southern Tennessee, near the village of Pittsburg Landing and Shiloh Church. Shiloh is a Hebrew word meaning place of peace – an inappropriate word for what had gone on there. For two days I had witnessed the bloodiest battle I or perhaps any man had ever seen.
I say ‘witnessed’ because I was not an actual participant. I was too old to be a soldier but fit enough to write about the war for the Cincinnati Enquirer. I had ridden with General Grant’s Army of the Tennessee down through the volunteer state. Grant’s victories over the rebels at Fort Henry and Fort Donelson had come as a welcome relief to the north in contrast to the steady stream of defeats of the Army of the Potomac at the hands of the Confederate Army of Virginia under the command of the seemingly unbeatable Robert E. Lee.
We had arrived at Shiloh several days earlier and were waiting for the arrival of the Army of the Ohio under the command of General Don Carlos Buell. They were coming down the Tennessee River from Nashville and would join up with the Army of the Tennessee for a push across the Mississippi state line and a confrontation with the Confederate Army of Tennessee under the command of General Albert Sydney Johnston. As a reporter I found it interesting that the Union armies were named for rivers and the confederate armies were named for states. Likewise the battlefields were designated by landmarks in the north and by cities in the south.
Consequently what was referred as the Battle of Bull Run in the northern papers was called the Battle of Manassas in the south. It took a little getting used to but getting the facts and terminology straight was part of my job.
While we were waiting for the Army of the Ohio to arrive General Johnston was busy and on the morning of April 6, 1862 he attacked the resting and largely unsuspecting Union army with full force. I had been camped with General Grant’s entourage somewhat back of the front lines but the sounds of cannon and rifle fire and the screams of the wounded and dying would be forever embedded in my memory.
I made notes as quickly as I could, jotting down the names of places like The Hornets Nest, The Peach Orchard, The Sunken Road and Owl Creek and interviewing those soldiers I could find who had actually witnessed the fighting.
The Union army was able to finally halt the Confederate advance of the first day and on the second day the Army of Ohio finally arrived and the Union army prevailed. It appeared that the battle had pretty much ended in a tie but it had claimed a terrific toll in dead and wounded on both sides and the Blue could afford to lose a lot more combatants than the Grey so in that sense it could be called a victory for the north – at least that’s how I would report it to the readers of the Enquirer.
Lines of communication had been disrupted by the fighting and I had been on horseback, riding alone, heading north to the town of Savannah, Tennessee to telegraph my dispatch back to Ohio. I vaguely recalled something striking the side of my head and that was the last thing i remembered.
Touching the side of my head again and probing gingerly I determined that I had suffered a crease wound across my right temple, severe enough to draw blood and render me unconscious but, thankfully, not enough to kill me. Whether the shot was an errant shot or an intended assassination I knew not but the fact that I was still alive and could see my horse grazing nearby led me to believe that I had been shot by accident, perhaps by someone shooting at a deer or a squirrel. I got up and swung back onto my horse and resumed my journey.
I looked at my pocket watch and saw that it was just after four p.m. and I hoped that I had time to reach Savannah before dark. After about an hour I neared a small clearing and could see a farmhouse nestled under a grove of trees. I could hear the muffled sound of a woman’s voice crying in distress and the guttural conversation of two male voices. I stopped my horse, dismounted and took my Colt 45 revolver out of my saddlebags. I tethered my horse to a tree and cautiously approached the farm house, using the woods as a cover.
What I saw next made the bile rush to my throat and my face flush with anger. Two soldiers in Union blue uniforms had a woman pinned between them. She was on all-fours with her dress thrown up around her and her bare bottom exposed. The man in front had a hammer lock on her neck and the man behind had dropped his uniform trousers and was on his knees and about to rape her from behind. I cocked my revolver and stepped out from the cover of the trees.
‘Hold it right there,’ I said.
The men looked at me, saw my weapon and the man behind stopped his advance toward her exposed loins. He smiled at me and said, ‘Hello stranger. You’re just in time for dinner.’
‘Yup,’ said the man in front, ‘if you don’t mind left-overs. I get sloppy seconds and you can have dirty thirds.’
‘I think not,’ I said. ‘Move away from her right now.’
‘Aw, now, be reasonable,’ the man behind her said, hurriedly trying to stuff his cock into his pants. ‘This woman is most likely a Reb and we’re just samplin’ some of that famous Southern hospitality.’
‘The spoils of war, as it were,’ said the man in front who had relaxed his grip on the woman’s neck.
‘I don’t have time for conversation,’ I said ‘and you are not about to sample any of what you call Southern hospitality.’
‘Are you a Johnny Reb?’ the man in back asked.
‘I’m a newspaper man,’ I said, ‘and I’ve witnessed enough violence over the last two days to last me for a lifetime. Now, stand up and get away from that woman.’
They did and, with a look of great relief, the woman gathered her clothes around her and scurried into her house. The men looked at me uncertainly and one of them said, ‘Well, I guess we’ll be movin’ on.’
‘I don’t think so,’ I said.
‘What are gonna do about us?’, the other one asked.
‘I’m not sure,’ i said, ‘I ought to shoot you but that goes against my principles.’ I pondered what to do and my deliberations were interrupted by the sound of horses hooves coming down the road. I turned slightly, still keeping my revolver pointed at the two of them, and saw a troop of Union cavalry riding up.
‘Oh, shit,’ one of the ruffians said.
The cavalry troop halted and their leader, wearing the silver bars of a captain, drew his revolver and said, ‘What’s going on here.’
I said, ‘I’m a correspondent for the Cincinnati Enquirer. I was riding toward Savannah to telegraph a dispatch to my paper about the battle down at Shiloh and I came across these two trying to rape a woman, She’s in the house and she’ll corroborate my story.’
I turned toward the house and saw the woman standing on the porch. She called to the officer and said, ‘That’s the God’s truth. If this gentleman hadn’t happened along they would have done what he said.’
‘Let me see your credentials,’ the officer said.
I handed him a copy of the pass which was issued by the War Department to all the reporters covering the conflict. He looked it over and said, ‘This all looks to be in order and since this lady backs up your story I believe you and I need to thank you. We’ve had, unfortunately, more than our share of problems with deserters terrorizing the locals.’
Turning to the woman on the porch he said, ‘Madame on behalf of the Union Army I apologize for what these men did, or tried to do to you and I assure you they will be dealt with severely.’
The would-be rapists arms were tied behind their backs, they were attached by ropes to horses and led away back toward the Union lines to the
south.
I walked toward the woman and said, ‘Are you alright, ma’am?’
‘Thanks to you, although there’s probably no way I can adequately thank you. I could offer you some supper, I’ve a chicken stewing in the oven and was about to fix my supper when those men appeared.’ She held out her hand and said, ‘My name is Laura Jackson.’
‘Any relation to Andrew Jackson?’
‘My husband was a distant cousin and a staunch Democrat. I’m not political but I think I would have voted for Mr. Lincoln except, of course, women can’t vote.’
‘Perhaps some day,’ I said, ‘My name is Gabriel Wilson and I’m pleased to meet you.’
‘Ah, Gabriel, what a fitting name for a saving angel.’
I smiled and she continued, ‘Can you stay for supper? I heard you tell that officer that you were on your way to Savannah. It will be dark soon and you’re welcome to camp here overnight if you like.’
I paused and said, ‘I will accept your gracious offer. I’ve already had quite enough excitement for today and a home-cooked meal and a roof over my head would be appreciated.’
She smiled and led me into her house. It was neat and clean, the furniture was old but polished and free of dust. She appeared to be in her late 40s or early 50s with brown hair, streaked with grey. She was short and rather thin but nicely formed from what I could see.
‘You referred to your husband in the past tense. Is he dead?’
‘Mr. Jackson passed away two years ago.’
‘And you are all alone?’
‘I have two sons but they joined the Confederate Army shortly after the war started and went away to fight for the lost cause.’
She said the final words with some bitterness in her voice.
I said, ‘You don’t believe in the lost cause?’
‘Humph,’ she said, ‘I believe that’s some fiction that Southerners have contrived to mask the real cause of the war which, as we all know, is slavery.’
‘You are an abolitionist?’
‘I am from New England, Mr. Wilson, and I still have family there. I met my husband in New Haven while he was a student at Yale. We never owned slaves although my husband and, regrettably, my sons, had no quarrel with it. I am an abolitionist and a pacifist and I hate this war.’
‘I share that view, Mrs. Jackson but I fear that it will be a long one.’
‘Well, make yourself at home while I finish preparing dinner.’
I sat down and tried to gather my thoughts and made some notes about the events of the afternoon.
We ate and talked and, under the circumstances it was a pleasant evening. After dinner I said, ‘Let me help you with the dishes.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘I have rarely had help in the kitchen. I guess it’s some sort of southern male thing.’
‘Well, I’m a northern male and I don’t mind helping at all.’
After we washed and dried and put away the dishes I said, ‘I have to be up and away to Savannah early in the morning. I can sleep in the barn if that’s alright.’
‘I wouldn’t hear of it,’ she said, ‘you can sleep in my son’s room.’
We went to our separate bedrooms and I slept soundly. I awoke to the smell of bacon frying. I got up and quickly dressed and walked into the kitchen. She greeted with a smile and said, ‘Did you sleep well?’
‘I slept very well, thank you, and you?’
‘All things considered I slept very well too and before i went to bed I sent up a little prayer of thanks for my angel Gabriel.’
I laughed and said, ‘Breakfast smells wonderful.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘I only wish I had some coffee. We can’t get coffee here anymore since the war started.’
I smiled and said, ‘I’ll be right back.’
I returned in a few moments and handed her a small tin of coffee saying, ‘With the compliments of the Cincinnati Enquirer.’
She took the coffee tin and said, ‘Mr. Wilson you are indeed an angel.’
After breakfast I said, ‘I must be on my way. Thank you for dinner and breakfast and some delightful conversation.’
She took my hand, smiled at me and said, ‘Will you be coming back this way?’
‘Quite likely. I’ll send my dispatch to the paper and wait for them to wire me back with further instructions. I’m also going to send them an account of what happened here yesterday afternoon. I don’t know if my editor will publish it but our readers should know what sometimes happens during wartime. I won’t identify you by name, of course.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘And if you come back this way and if you have the time I would like to give you dinner and, uh lodgings. I don’t feel like I’ve even begun to repay you for what you did for me.’
I squeezed her hand and said, ‘Your company, your smile and your gratitude are payment enough.’
I rode into Savannah and wired my stories to Cincinnati. There were several other reporters at the telegraph office and they told me that Grant and the army would probably stay around Shiloh for at least a few days before heading south. They also told me that among the many casualties suffered by the Rebels was General Johnston who had apparently bled to death from a bullet wound in his leg. I was glad to learn that I didn’t have to hurry back to Grant’s headquarters and even gladder when a telegram came for me from the Enquirer. The message was brief Good work. Will try to use both stories. Take a Few Days Off.
I arrived back at Laura’s house in mid-afternoon. I knocked on her door and she opened it, greeting me with a big smile.
‘I see that my angel has returned. Can you stay for a while?’
‘I’m happy to say I can stay for a couple of days, if that’s alright with you.’
‘That’s more than alright.’
I noticed that she was wearing a much nicer dress than the day before and it appeared that she had washed her hair. She also smelled good.
‘You look terrific,’ I said.
‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘I know I looked a sight yesterday so I decided to clean up just in case you came back. I even took a bath.’
‘I haven’t had a bath in several days,’ I said.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘the kettles on the stove and the tub is still in the kitchen. Let me get it ready for you.’
I followed her into the kitchen and watched while she prepared the bath. She placed a towel and bar of soap by the tub and then she said, ‘I’ll go outside and tend to my flowers while you bathe.’
‘You’re not going to stay and scrub my back?’
‘I’d better not,’ she said, ‘but thanks for asking.’
I bathed and dressed in cleaner clothes and walked outside. She had picked a bouquet of daisies and held them in one hand. In the other hand were several springs of fresh-picked mint. ‘What a beautiful bouquet,’ I said, ‘rivaled only by the beauty of the one who picked them.’
She smiled shyly and said, ‘You have quite a way with words.’
‘I am a journalist, you know.’
‘And a very sweet and caring man,’ she said. ‘And you also clean up pretty good.’
‘Thank you, and is that fresh mint that I see and smell?’
‘Indeed it is, it’s for a treat after dinner.’
I helped her prepare our dinner and she was impressed, or said she was, at my dexterity and willingness in the kitchen. I did the scut work, peeling potatoes, chopping green onions, etc. while she did the actual preparation. The dinner and conversation were as delightful as they were the night before. Again, after dinner, I wiped the dishes after she washed them and, this time, knew where to put them.
After our chores were done she said, ‘Now it’s time for a special treat.’ She picked up the mint sprigs, took down a canister of sugar and reached into a cupboard and brought out a jug of whiskey. ‘I’m an abolitionist,’ she said, ‘but not a prohibitionist. I assume you imbibe now and then.’
‘I have been known to, on occasion.’
‘Have you ever tried a mint julep?’
‘Ah, the elixir of the south,’ I said. ‘Indeed I have from time to time.’
She gestured toward the jug and said,
‘I keep this here mainly for medicinal purposes but I have learned how to prepare a mean mint julep. This came from Mr. Call’s distillery in Lynchburg. My sons brought it back after a visit.’
‘Would that be Daniel Call?’ I asked.
‘You have heard of him?’
‘Yes I have and of his young apprentice Jack Daniels. I understand they are experimenting with a new method which involves filtering the whisky through charcoal.’
She smiled and said, ‘You are certainly a well informed man.’
‘More a repository of sometimes useless information but in my business you never know what you’ll need to flesh out a story.’
She mixed the whiskey, sugar, mint and spring water and we retired to the front porch swing. We sat and sipped in companionable silence. I held her hand and she moved closer to me. I leaned toward her and smelled her freshly washed hair.
‘Laura,’ I said, ‘I can’t tell you how peaceful and fulfilling this is, just to sit with you and watch the world go by. I have been widowed for several years and I have missed togetherness like this immensely.’
‘I have missed it too,’ she said. ‘Although what happened, or almost happened to me yesterday was horrible to contemplate it brought us together and for that I will be eternally grateful.’
We sat and swung some more and watched the sun go down. After a while she said, ‘I think it’s time to go to bed.’
I looked at her and said, ‘I suppose. Although I hate to leave your side.’
She turned to me and took one of my hands in both of hers. She took a deep breath and said, ‘Hear me out for a moment. The last two days have been the most eventful of my life, from dread and fear to extreme happiness and contentment. I realize that soon you will have to leave, perhaps never to return but I want to capture and hold as many memories – good memories, as I can. I hope you won’t think I am being too forward but I offer you my bed and my body for what you have done for me.’
I started to say something and she said, ‘Let me finish. We are both grown ups, able to make our own decisions and I would like to repay your kindness in the best way that I can think of.’
‘Laura,’ I said, ‘that is a most enticing offer and I thank you sincerely for it but you must understand that it’s not necessary. Your company and your companionship are adequate payment. What I did I believe, at least I hope, any man would have done under the circumstances. Please, please don’t feel obligated to do anything that you don’t want to do.’
She squeezed my hand tightly and said, ‘Thank you for saying that. I hoped and prayed you would say that but rest assured that my request is actually fueled more by desire than and sense of obligation.’
‘Far be it from me to refuse such a request from such a lovely, desirable woman.’
She smiled and said, ‘Alright, Mr. Wilson. Mrs. Jackson requests your presence in her bed.’
She dropped my hand, put her hands on my face and kissed me. I could taste the sugar and the whisky of the mint julep in her mouth as I tenderly parted her lips with my probing tongue. I put my arms around her and drew her close to me, gently rubbing her back and sides. The coolness of the evening gave way to the warmth of our bodies close together.
She pulled away and said, ‘Take me to bed.’
‘Do you want me to carry you?’
She laughed, ‘No, save your strength.’
She took my hand and led me to her bedroom. She lit some candles while I began to undress. I stripped down to my underwear and stopped. ‘Are you sure this is what you want to do?’
‘Yes.’
She pulled back the bedspread and I laid down. I watched her as she disrobed. She removed her dress and hung it in her closet. She was wearing a chemise which covered her to her knees. She pulled it off revealing a pair of mature and nicely shaped breasts. They were not overly large but with a bit of matronly sag, what we used to refer to as puppy dog noses. Her nipples and aureola were pink and very delicate looking. She looked at me and smiled and removed her bloomers. She started to cover her nether lips but then thought better of it and moved her hands to fall by her side.
‘This is all I have,’ she said with a catch in her voice.
Nanette
- 11.05.2022
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