Free Karl Bacon by An Eye for Glory: The Civil War Chronicles of a Citizen Soldier Page A

themselves before a blazing fire. “The plague and the Black Death?”
    “Sure, we read about it at Union School,” said Jim Adams.
    “This place reminds me of that time,” John said.
    “You mean because no one was safe?” I asked. “And no one knew why people were dying or how to prevent it? All of us have been sick, even Jim.”
    “And every morning carts went around collecting the corpses,” Jim said. “‘Bring out your dead,’ the drivers called, ‘bring out your dead.’”
    Harry’s eyes darted from one face to the other. “It’s … it’s not that bad, is it?”
    “Isn’t it, Harry?” John said. “During the Black Death, many people ceased to care whether they lived or died. ‘Eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die’ were the words they lived by.”
    “I think you’re overstating it, John,” Jim said.
    “But I see this same attitude in many of the men,” said John. “Do you keep a close eye on your money, Jim?”
    “Sure, everybody does since we came here,” Jim said. “There are thieves in this camp.”
    “Why so?” John asked.
    “Because they have no money.”
    “Right you are, Jim, and why is that? Because they’ve wagered it away or wasted it on whiskey—rogues of the worst sort. Now they steal from men like us who carefully save their funds.”
    “So we are just sitting around waiting to die,” I said. “On the battlefield there is honor, but here in camp, like this?”
    “Michael.” John’s usually gentle voice was suddenly sharp and direct. “You know better. Just a short time ago you spoke of the will of God for your life. What has changed? Are you now just waiting to die?”
    A weak shrug was all the response I could muster.
    “That is a dark and hopeless place to be in, Michael,” John said. “But for the grace of God, you or I might be one of those thieving rogues. I prefer to look for God’s hand at work in all circumstances.”
    “So how is God working here at Bolivar?” I asked. Both Jim and Harry turned expectantly toward John.
    “When I feel weak and downcast, I often turn to God for strength, and He lifts me up. But when I feel strong and content, it’s all too easy for me to see God’s blessings as my own successes. Self-pity and despair must not control me. I must believe in the eternal will of a holy, just, and merciful God. I must count on His love for me and stand on His promise, ‘I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.’ Perhaps this is what God is teaching this army.”
    Our spirits were soon raised by the arrival of a wagonload of new half-shelter tents, new woolen blankets, and new knapsacks. John and I teamed up as did Jim and Harry. I laid out John’s half-shelter and my own upon the ground and buttoned the two halves together. While I was doing this, John fixed the bayonets to our two Springfield rifles, stuck them into the ground at either end of the tent, and tied a length of rope between the trigger guards. Then we draped the shelter tent over the rope to form the peak. The corners of the tent were held in place by sticks driven into the earth. Lastly, we laid our rubber blankets on the ground inside the tent.
    That evening John and I sat before the campfire reading our Bibles, as was often our custom when other duties allowed it. John began to chuckle.
    “What’s so funny?” I asked.
    “I’ve been reading through Luke, and I just read the verse in which Jesus says, ‘Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head.’ It just struck me as funny, that for the last month we lived like our Lord with nowhere to lay our heads. The Lord’s timing is incredible, that I should read those words tonight when we finally do have a place to lay our heads.”
    I nodded slowly, still not seeing the humor in it. When we closed our Bibles to pray, John said, “Michael, the Lord told us, ‘Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the