Free Northfield by Johnny D. Boggs

merely said I had seen several battles with the 14 th Wisconsin.
    “I figured you as some peace lover,” Mr. Ladd said. “I mean, man who won’t kill a tree ain’t likely got the gumption to send another fellow to hell.”
    “If I believed in hell, I would answer that I sent many men there. Men I killed wearing butternut and gray. Men wearing blue whom I ordered to their deaths.”
    “You were an officer?” Mr. King inquired.
    “A colonel.”
    He whistled. “They stuck the rank of captain on me, though it didn’t mean much to me, or the boys.” He still did not name his allegiance, but I knew he had fought for the South.
    “War is terrible,” Mr. King added. “I wonder why God tolerates us foolish men.”
    When I said nothing, Mr. King leaned forward, using the cigar as a pointer once again. “You say you don’t believe in hell. You’re not a religious man, sir?”
    “I find fallacies throughout the Bible.”
    “How so?” Eyes full of interest, he leaned back to study my answer.
    “Jesus preaches peace, but the Old Testament is filled with more slaughter than I even saw at Pitts-burg Landing or Corinth, or even the misery marching with Sherman. There is no consistency to this book.”
    “Sure there is,” Mr. King said. “When Jesus preaches, he is using the teachings from the Old Testament.”
    “‘He teacheth my hands to war,’ it says in Samuel,” I retorted. “The Old Testament is full of war.…”
    “That’s why folks love reading it!” Mr. Ladd interjected.
    Ignoring his colleague, Mr. King continued. “Full of war, but also full of God’s message, Colonel Vought. Remember Psalms, Chapter Forty-Six. ‘He maketh wars to cease unto the end of the earth; he breaketh the bow, and cutteth the spear in sunder; he burneth the chariot in the fire.’ And in Samuel, the same chapter from which you quote, there is a message of love. ‘God is my strength and power; and he maketh my way perfect.’”
    I was not about to surrender. “‘And I have pursued mine enemies, and destroyed them; and turned not again until I had consumed them.’ That’s not exactly Jesus Christ’s message. Is it?”
    He nodded, somewhat sadly, eyes vacant, as if my Scripture had reminded him of something. For the longest while he did not speak, finally bringing the cigar to his mouth and sucking hard, then spitting, and fishing out a match from his coat pocket to re-fire it.
    “Many men pursue their enemies with the wrath of the Old Testament. It’s a damned shame, isn’t it, landlord? Society remains intolerant. That’s why Christ was put to death on the cross. That’s why Lee may have surrendered, but the war is not over. Intolerance. Power. Religion. Wait a few years, and we shall be fighting again, probably for the same reasons, but maybe using some other words, Abolition or states’ rights, the Indian question or the Texas border. You’re a freethinker?”
    “I merely have doubts to the veracity of the Bible.” I tapped my rosewood pipe against the arm of my rocker.
    “Fascinating.” He leaned back and stretched out his boots. “I have a friend of mine, my best friend, name of…well, we call him Buck…and he and I get into these debates all the time. Now, his mama and his brother are about as hard shell as they come, and his daddy was a Baptist preacher, though he died years ago. But Buck? He’s neither agnostic nor atheist nor Bible-back. What about you? Come from a religious family? You must, the way you can recite Scripture.”
    “My parents were Catholic. Mass every week, and I served as an altar boy. My doubts began at Pittsburg Landing. They have not been erased.”
    “No offense, sir. My curiosity can get me in trouble, and if I have dredged up horrible memories or intruded on your privacy, my apologies, landlord. Religion is a favorite subject of mine, but I shall drop it.”
    Actually I enjoyed the debate. Not many men had the courage to argue religion, at least, not in Madelia. Even I