Down The Sky

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Chapter One

10 June, 1864

Chimborazo Hospital in Richmond, Virginia was the "jewel in the crown" of the Confederate Army's medical department. In the summer of 1864, medical supplies were hard to obtain, but the staff was well trained. Virginia had a good medical school. Anesthesia and the relationship of infections to dirt were understood. The rate of infection was low, the lowest in North America. A wounded man had as good a chance of surviving in Chimborazo as he would anywhere in the world, but there were an awful lot of wounded that June and a man who had a private room was fortunate.

The ward buildings were white, wooden and one story. Captain William Fowle was happy to have a small room at the end of a ward. The favor of the War Department had made that possible. Outside, in the long, whitewashed room, men suffered communally, suffered without the dignity of privacy. Fowle's leg was ruined, smashed so badly that the surgeons had wanted to take it. They might yet if healing was not satisfactory.

His younger brother James sat by the window looking out in silences that were hard to avoid.

The early morning sunlight was cheery but the month of June in Richmond always meant that the day would be hot and the wounded man would lie on the bed sweating and itching under the cast covering his leg, unable to escape, unable to scratch the itch that accompanied dying skin.

Bill Fowle had commanded a company of the 17th Virginia Infantry Regiment for almost a year until he received this wound at Drewry's Bluff a month before. He had not seen his brother James for a long time. "I thought you were messing about with boats up on the Potomac," he said in trying to fill up the void of silence, "You know, carrying people across, back and forth, back and forth ..." He was having a hard time dealing with the other man's obvious good health. The well cut civilian suit irritated him.

"I did that for a few months," James replied, "but I got tired of it and came down to Richmond to ask for something else to do." James was an inch or so taller than Bill. This had always been a cause of uneasiness in their relationship.

The wounded officer shifted his weight in the bed so that he could look straight at his brother. "You could have come back to the regiment," he said with a smile. "We had a place for you in my company. Actually, we had a lot of empty places."

"No, no," his brother said. "I had enough of that. No more camping out for a living if I can avoid it."

"So, where have you been, Jimmy?" the crippled man asked. There was an edge in the voice. You could hear an infantry officer's instinctive scorn for shirking ...

"Come on, Willie," the brother replied. "Don't talk to me like that. I have been doing courier duty all over the North wherever we have friends, friends who need instructions, and money. I`ve been in the Middle West. I've been to Chicago a lot and up to New York City several times ... Several of the boys we know from home or Washington City are doing this work."

"They'll hang you if they catch you."

Jimmy waved a hand. "Surely, that makes it more interesting."

"And who did you persuade to transfer you from rowing boats for the Signal Corps to this kind of craziness?"

"Old Sam Cooper, you remember him."

"You mean General Samuel Cooper?"

"Yes, old Sam, from home in Alexandria. Father took me in to see him at the War Department. He moved me from one part of the secret service to another. It was easy as pie for him since they all work for him. He said I sounded close enough to a Yankee to pass for one. He should know. You remember. He was from New Jersey originally, like grandpa was from Boston."

"How did you learn that I was a guest of this lovely establishment?"

"Do you remember that fellow Jenkins?"

"Harry Jenkins?"

"That's him. He's a major in Sam Cooper's offices. He is in the secret part of the offices."

"I remember him from school, from the military institute"

"Ah, that was before you were sent home for `academic insufficiency'. Father is still upset with you for that." James appeared to relish the thought.

"No more than I am with myself. What about Jenkins?"

"He says that I am to be your assistant and courier in managing someone with the code name of `Hannibal,' but only if that is acceptable to you. Evidently you know of this man, `Hannibal' ..."

The older brother laughed and then smiled. "Ah, you are here to learn if that is so."

James nodded, and waited.

The wounded man sighed. "I see the logic of this. I will never be able to get around well enough to do this without help. I agree. Do you know who Hannibal is?"

"No. They wouldn't tell me until you agreed."

"Claude Devereux."

"Our Claude Devereux, from Alexandria? But, I heard that he had gone over to the other side and that he is a colonel in their army ..."

"No, not a colonel, they have promoted him. He is a brigadier general now, but he is really one of ours. He works in the office of their Secretary of War, in Stanton's offices and somehow he has become a friend of Lincoln."

James looked somber. "Claude was always a little mad," he said. You know that is true, smart, but a little mad. And, there was that business with his father. The old man couldn't stand the sight of him. I never understood why, and then he went off to Europe and abandoned his wife, that gorgeous creature.

"Charles is dead, you know."

"His father is dead?

"He died last month. A courier brought the news across the river."

"Where is he now, Claude, I mean?"

"He is exchanged. They thought we had captured him in the Wilderness. In fact he crossed the lines at night during the fighting to report and then was wounded at Spotsylvania. He's back in Washington."

"Jenkins is waiting outside to know if you want me to work with you ..."

"Bring him in."

* * *

The absent Claude Devereux once remarked that Major Harry Jenkins was a particularly homely man. Thin, freckled and red headed, he looked like an artist's cruel caricature. The grey uniform did not improve his looks. The big Adam's apple made him look even stranger.

"We have stopped Grant for the time being at Old Cold Harbor," Jenkins said to start the meeting. The bloodshed was terrible. Even if you hate the Yankees, it was terrible. We recovered some of their bodies," he said. "They had pinned little bits of paper to their backs with their names on them."

After a moment, Bill Fowle said. "Cold Harbor, that is close. We heard the artillery from here."

"About fifteen miles," Jenkins responded, "Grant has sent a lot of his cavalry off to the west along the line of the Virginia Central. We don't have any idea where they are going. There are some big supply depots over around Trevilian. Perhaps they are going there. Lee sent Hampton in pursuit. With Stuart dead, Hampton commands Lee's cavalry division, but, there is even more bad news. General David Hunter took over command in the Shenandoah Valley after Sigel was defeated at New Market last month. Hunter is now moving south along the Valley Pike. He was in Staunton last week. We do not know where he is going but we suspect that he will come over the Blue Ridge to Charlottesville or Lynchburg. Perhaps the idea is for him to unite with all that cavalry that is now headed west. If that happens, we are finished. Much of our supplies come over the Virginia...