Free Shades of Gray by Tim O’Brien Page A

how he and his friend Matt had begged Charlie to take them along to look for battle souvenirs.
    â€œIf it’s Yankee, how come it’s got a C on it?”
    â€œFor ‘Cavalry,’ ” Will explained, sorting through his collection. “See this one with the I? It’s off a Yankee infantry officer’s uniform.”
    â€œHow d’you know he was an officer?”
    â€œ ’Cause except for the artillery, Yankee enlisted men just had the number of their regiment on their buttons,” Will said. Then, seeing Hank’s scowl, he quickly added, “You’d know all this stuff, too, if there’d been any big battles near here.And if you’d had a brother like Charlie to teach it to you.”
    â€œA brother like Charlie,” Hank repeated slowly. “So Charlie Page was your brother!”
    Will was devastated. How could he have been so stupid!
    â€œWhy’d you lie to us down at the pond that day?”
    â€œI just didn’t want to talk about it,” Will said through clenched teeth.
    â€œSo you sat there and listened to Amos tell the whole story and pretended you’d never heard it before?”
    Will glared at Hank. “I don’t want to talk about it now, either. Do you want to see the rest of these buttons, or not?” To his relief, Hank shrugged and picked up a button showing a woman warrior with her foot resting on a vanquished foe.
    â€œWhich side’s this one from?”
    Will was amazed that Hank didn’t recognize the Virginia State Seal. “That’s from a Virginia militia uniform. Lots of men that volunteered at the beginning of the war went in their militia uniforms. My father did.”
    â€œYour pa volunteered? ” Hank asked in disbelief.
    â€œOf course! It was his duty!”
    Hank quickly changed the subject. “Look at this,” he said, reaching into his pocket and drawing out an oval buckle. A bullet hole obliterated the first letter, but the other two— VM —could still be read.
    Will took it. “A Yankee belt plate,” he said, imagining a Confederate sharpshooter fixing his sight on the glint of the volunteer militia man’s shiny buckle. “Where’d you get this?”
    â€œTom, my brother, he swapped for it when they had a truce at the battleline. Cost him a pipe he’d carved from a laurel root.”
    â€œYour brother swapped with a Yankee?” Will asked in disbelief.
    â€œShucks, he was just another farm boy. Gave Tom some bacon, too. First meat he’d had in weeks.”
    Will handed back the buckle and swept the scattered buttons into a pile. He said stiffly, “My family never had anything to do with Yankees no matter how long we’d been without meat.”
    â€œWhy not?” Hank asked in surprise. “How could filling your belly with extra vittles help the enemy?”
    Will put the last of the buttons into the pouch and tightened the drawstring. “It wouldn’t have helped the enemy,” he said, “but it would have hurt us. It would have hurt our pride.”
    Hank was quiet for a minute. “Pride’s pretty important to you, ain’t it?” he said at last.
    Will stood up. “It’s all I have left,” he said.
    Hank got to his feet, too, and gave Will a long, calculating look. Then he turned to leave, saying over his shoulder, “I’ll be watching for you down at the millpond, Will-yum Page.”
    From the window, Will watched Hank cross the yard. For a while, he’d thought they might be friends. But that was before Hank found out he’d lied about Charlie. And before he’d acted like such a prig about Hank’s brother and the Yankee soldier.
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    â€œI was surprised Hank Riley hung around so long after he handed over that letter,” Uncle Jed said that night at supper.
    Will wished his uncle hadn’t reminded him of Hank’s visit. “He wanted to see the uniform