FicWad

After a couple of days, with the majority of the men out of the hospital and deemed suitable for combat, the Thirteenth Bridgeton Light Infantry seems like itself again, though Liam misses Boland’s raucous laugh. Brendan Sparrow makes fine company, but, like Billy Fitz, he unintentionally makes Liam feel inferior if just because the two of them are educated. Jack put them both through university as a way to pay back personal debts to their fathers for keeping him alive during the Revolution, and they parted ways when Brendan went to medical school and Billy went to officer training school. Billy entered the Army as a Lieutenant, and he was promoted to Captain shortly thereafter, not having been even considered for promotion once in the many years since. Billy and Brendan have been good friends since they were young children, and, though they are both typically hard-working, quiet men individually, when they are together, they can be rather rowdy. From what Liam hears from the other soldiers, they switched the belongings of many of the enlisted men so that nobody knew where his things were. They also moved the signs marking the trail to the stream where the men wash and replaced the flags flying over camp with the Colonel’s dirty bed sheets, hiding the actual flags in the Colonel’s bunk.

One morning, just before dawn, Colonel Callahan announces that the entire camp must be clean. Every bunk must be made, every dish washed, and every horse washed and brushed. He refuses to say why and disappears for most of the day after declaring, for the first time in the history of the Thirteenth Bridgeton Light Infantry, that alcohol in any form is banned until dusk. He also declares that everyone must wear their dress uniform that evening, that every shirt must be clean, every belt buckle and shoe be polished, and that every man have bathed by dusk. When one of the enlisted men curses after hearing his order, he also bans all forms of cursing, cussing, swearing, and blasphemy as well as all pranks and practical jokes with punishments ranging from fines to floggings.

Every man and woman in the Thirteenth Bridgeton Light Infantry rightfully fears floggings. Colonel Callahan learned from Niall Mór Ó Seachnsaigh how to flog, and Niall Mór was known amongst the soldiers of the Revolution for having flogged several men to their deaths. The Colonel keeps his whip well-oiled and under lock and key. He forces his men to remove their shirts and coats; ties their hands together at the wrists and their feet together at the ankles; throws them into the nearest stream, river, lake, or pond, or, failing that, dumps a barrel of water on them; ties them to a post; and, rather than counting lashes, inquiring as to whether the lesson was learned, or stopping at a certain point of injury, flogs them until he is personally satisfied. He occasionally uses a switch, a riding crop, or his fists, and he is a remarkably strong man. The one concession he makes for his female soldiers, since they must remove their dresses, corsets, and shifts, exposing their breasts as well as their backs, is that he carries out their punishment inside a tent with only a doctor present for the sake of their privacy. Niall Mór never made concessions, but Colonel Callahan has a soft spot for women, which is not to say that he expects anything less of them or otherwise fancies his female subordinates. He believes that corporal punishment is necessary in order to garner respect, but he sees no point in causing a girl undue harassment from the men in the unit. Some Colonels have been known to accept sexual favors from female soldiers in lieu of corporal punishment, but Colonel Callahan has never done such a thing because he thinks of his subordinates as soldiers, not as women or men, except in judging who should be assigned to which tent.

After the longest, most difficult day of work out of combat any of them have ever experienced, the ranks of the Thirteenth Bridgeton Light Infantry assemble at dusk in full dress uniforms, waiting for Colonel Callahan. He returns with a feast and liquor by the barrel as well as his younger brother Private Conan Callahan, the newest and youngest member of the Thirteenth Bridgeton Light Infantry. He does not lift the ban on profanity, though he assembles his father, General Keegan Callahan, and his brothers, Major Brendan Callahan and Lieutenant Kian Callahan, for Conan’s first sip of poitín. The Callahan family tradition is that a boy becomes a man upon his first sip of poitín, which he receives after he turns sixteen and as soon as he moves from Recruit to Private. After introducing Private Conan to the Thriteenth Bridgeton, Owen announces that the feast he promised is ready for the taking. Almost immediately and to nobody’s surprise, arguments begin over the liquor.

Keegan looks to his eldest son Owen and says, “Jus’ like oul’ times.”

Owen turns to Conan, whose mother sheltered him from drunken brawling, and shouts, “Welcome to the Thirteenth, boyo!”

Conan stands terrified around the fringes of the crowd, carefully avoiding airborne bones and bottles. He looks around him and sees several familiar faces from his childhood besides his family, mainly his older brothers’ friends, a few neighbors, and former schoolmates who left before him. He sees men with bandaged heads, arms, and legs. He sees Jimmy McEvoy with his hand wrapped in a bloody bandage. Conan runs into the forest to be alone. He is terrified to be so far from home among such rowdy men, some of them, he thinks, must be twice his size. He looks at his reflection in a small stream and sees someone he does not know. He has a bit of a scruffy goatee, which is the first bit of beard he has ever let grow, and he is a lot more muscular than he remembers. His dress uniform is stiff and foreign and looks like it belongs to someone else. He is wearing shiny new boots, the first he has ever gotten new. Every item of clothing he has ever owned belonged to his three older brothers before him. He sees the sword hanging by his side, shiny and new, a present from his father. He fears for the fast-approaching day when he will have to use it to kill a man. He is only a boy among so many men. He wants to leave the army, sign himself to an apprenticeship, and become a cobbler or a tinsmith, any profession in which he would never hold a sword again. He watches dusk turn to twilight and eventually to night. The leaves rustle, and he jolts upright, drawing his sword in a fluid motion.

Colonel Callahan searches in the crowd for his younger brother, who is nowhere to be found. He looks in every stable and tent and through the crowd of soldiers, but he cannot find Conan. He turns to his brothers, Brendan and Kian, and tells them of Conan’s absence.

“Ma’ll kill us if she finds out,” says Kian.

“I’m more worried ‘bout da’. He’d do the same, an’ he’ll find out first,” says Brendan.

“I’ll not announce it. We’ll split up an’ meet back in an hour, an’-”

“Excuse me, sor,” interrupts Liam.

“Aye, Captain?”

“I overheard ye, an’ I was wonderin’, could I go find him?”

“I don’ see why not, other than he don’ know ye.”

“I saw where he went. Please, sor, give me a chance. I’ll get him back.”

“Alright, Captain. Be gentle wi’ him. He’s only a boyo.”

Liam, taking a bottle of whiskey with him, lest all the alcohol be gone by the time he returns, follows the small path behind the officers’ quarters to the small stream where the men bathe and wash their clothing and dishes. When he arrives, he sees Conan looking into the water. He waits for around half an hour, standing perfectly still in silence before intentionally breaking a twig and rustling the dried leaves on the ground to announce his presence. He ducks behind a tree as he hears Conan draw his sword. He edges out slowly, his hands in the air. Conan stands frozen to the spot, his sword at the ready, unsure whether to drop it, sheath it, or attack. Liam slowly walks toward him, and, suddenly, Conan attacks, knocking off Liam’s brimmed dress hat as he attempts to dodge Conan’s sword while drawing his own. Liam swiftly disarms Conan and sheaths his sword.

“Ye’re a good swordsman, Conan, but ye’ve a lot to learn ‘bout timin’. I was in them woods half an hour before ye knew I’d come up. I could’ve gotten right behind ye an’ slashed your throat ‘afore ye knew I was there.”

“I’m sorry, sor, I thought ye was…I’ve no idea what I thought.”

“Ye’re drunk. I can’t hold it ‘gainst ye. First off, I’ve been drinkin’ meself, secon’ ye didn’t hurt nothin’ or no one, an’ third, that stuff ye was drinkin’ could put most any man straight to sleep.”

“I don’ b’lieve it. What about Senatorial General Shepherd.”

“Ye don’ want to know. Trust me. Conan, ye’re a smart boy-”

“Ye don’ even know me.”

“I can tell. Ye know better’n to run too far, an’ ye can do at least one thing I can’t.”

“Touch me toes?”

“Very funny, Conan, but no. Ye’re a sarcastic drunk. I can’t read. Don’ go tellin’ anyone that. Only Major Moynihan an’ the Colonel know. I’ll box your ears so hard they’ll bleed if ye tell anyone, but now ye know I ain’t smart. At least ye’ve got that goin’ for ye.”

“Didn’t ye ever want to learn? I could teach ye.”

“Senatorial General Sheehan is teaching me.”

“Wow…Captain, what’s your name?”

“Liam. Call me Liam. Everyone does.”

“I mean your last name.”

“I haven’t one.”

“Everyone does.”

“Me mother never gave me one.”

“Your mammy don’t give ye a last name. Ye get it from your da’.”

“See…me mother was a girl named Polly O’Toole-”

“That’s silly! Sure, she’s only twelve!”

“A different Polly O’Toole. She lived in Mullingar. That’s not in Hell. Anyhow, she only ever knew me da’s first name, an’ she died when I was born, so I never got a last name.”

“That’s terrible!”

“Ah, no. ‘Tisn’t so bad.”

“Did ye ever find your father?”

“Aye, I did.”

“Who is he, then?”

“Senatorial General Shepherd.”

“Ye’re lyin’.”

“I’m not. I’m sure ye’ve seen him or a picture o’ him. Think very hard about what he looks like, then look at me.”

Conan stands for a moment in silence with his eyes closed then looks up at Liam and says, “ Wow…ye weren’t lyin’. He’s a different chin though.”

“Hands too. He told me I’ve me mother’s chin, mouth, an’ hands. I’ve never seen her. I wouldn’t know. Maybe she went to Heaven…”

Liam collects his fallen hat and sits next to the stream, skipping a small rock across the top of the water downstream. Conan sits next to him and asks, “Captain Liam, were ye scared when ye got here?”

“A mite. I joined right before the war started, an’ I knew ‘twas comin’. We all did.”

“Wow! Ye must’ve done somethin’ great to go from Private to Captain already.”

“No. I came in as a Captain. I was a soldier when I was alive. When I got here, I was less worried about the battles and more worried about if the men’d accept me orders. If I say, ‘move forward,’ will me Lieutenants, who’ve all been here longer’n me, listen?”

“Did they?”

“Aye. These men are good men, Conan, good soldiers, an’ real good men. They’re as loyal as they come. Anythin’ ye need, they’ll take care’ve it. If ye need somethin’ they can’t do, if ye get into real trouble, come find me. I’ll ask me da’ for ye, or I’ll ask Miss Kerrigan. Ye’ll be fine here.”

“I’m scared, sor.”

“We’re alone. Ye don’t have to call me ‘sor.’ Are ye afraid ye’ll get hurt?”

“Aye. Ye disarmed me so easy. I was the best in trainin’ at fencin’. I came early ‘cos so many men died. I didn’t even get as much trainin’ as most. Me brother called me here, an’ I had to come. That was it. There’s on’y a few days left ‘til he says we’re ready for battle. I’m so scared I’ll end up-”

“Hush, hush. Ye’ll be scared for a while. Hell, ye’ll probably be scared forever, but the difference ‘twixt a smart soldier an’ a dumb one is the smart soldier knows when to retreat. The dumb soldier goes forward when he ought to go back an’ gets hisself killed.”

“How’ll I know.”

“Ye’re a Callahan, boy! Ye’ll know. I’ll tell ye a wee story. In the last battle we had, the one where so many men died, we held our line an’ forced a retreat, but we lost a lot o’ good men doin’ it. All o’ Major Moynihan’s Captains, that’s me, Fitzmaurice, O’Dowd, an’ McEvoy-”

“Aren’t there usually five?”

“There were, but Captain Reilly died a few weeks back, an’ Lieutenant Boland, who’ll make Captain to replace him, is in Bridgeton wi’ a broken leg. Anyhow, me, Fitzmaurice, O’Dowd, an’ McEvoy was all separated. McEvoy, he’s the one wi’ the bandaged hand, was captured an’ tortured. Don’ worry about that. There’s no point in torturin’ or ransomin’ Privates. Ye don’ have enough information. Ye’re not worth anythin’ to them, no offense. A Captain or a Major knows what his unit’ll be doin’. A Private don’ know that ‘til he’s been given his orders, which is too late for them to use it, since ‘tis already hapenin’ by the time they can get him. Anyhow, McEvoy was tortured, an’ O’Dowd did the stupidest thing possible. He dressed in civilian clothing, rode his horse into enemy territory, jumped the fence o’ the closest prisoner camp, where they keep ‘em ‘til night when they can move ‘em, killed the guard, an’ took Jimmy, that’d be McEvoy, back. He was jus’ lucky he didn’t get hisself captured. McEvoy was caught wi’ nowhere to turn, an’ he was taken. O’Dowd’s men suffered a lot, but he got hisself and most o’ them out. I sent me men back. One o’ them was so hurt I had to carry him. Boland, the Lieutenant I told ye about, ye’ll meet him in about two months, got shot in the leg. I found him cover an’ stayed with him. Fitzmaurice got separated from his men. They fought on without him, an’ most o’ them came back alright, but he knew to go into the woods an’ come back toward the stream. His glasses was shot, so he couldn’t see a thing. He knew he’d die out there, so he found safety. The difference between bein’ brave an’ bein’ stupid is knowin’ when ye need to come back.”

“I’m still scared.”

“’Tis alright. I’m still a bit scared when I go into battle. Ye don’ let your enemy know, an’ ye don’ let your men know…well…ye don’ have to worry ‘bout that yet, but ye keep it to yourself an’ ye’ll be fine. I’ll not tell ye ye’re wrong. Ye’re not. Havin’ a man come at ye wi’ a sword an’ knowin’ he wants ye dead is quite a fright. Ye’ll be fine. Ye’re smart enough to be scared. Come on, ye’ve been travelin’ all day. Ye must be dyin’ o’ the hunger.”

“Liam?”

“Aye?”

“Thankee.”

“Stay close. I’ll get ye somethin’.” Liam guides Conan through the crowd and toward the buffet. He finds his plate in his tent and takes Conan from his pack and fills his according to his wishes and Conan’s by pointing and looking for a response. He then takes his and Conan’s mugs from their belts and finds a barrel of whiskey that isn’t completely empty. “Come, sit by me. I’ll introduce ye to some o’ the officers.”

“Liam, what were ye doin’ wi’ the Private? Sure, ye’ve been gone over an hour,” asks Captain Fitzmaurice.

“Lay off him, Fitz. He’s new. He’s barely older’n a child.”

“He don’ look like no child. Since we all know ye don’ ever bring women back here, we gotta ask. D’ye like it rough, Liam? What’d ye do to him back there?”

Liam lifts Fitzmaurice by the throat so that they are at eye level with each other and gowls, “I said lay off him.”

Fitzmaurice massages his throat and hoarsely says, “Alright. Fine. Jus’ this once.”

“Conan, that’s Captain Fitzmaurice. The civilian is Doctor Sparrow. The man with the bandaged hand is Captain McEvoy. The man over there talkin’ to your brother is Captain O’Dowd. I don’ know what tent ye’re in an’ who ye’re under, but I do know ye’re not under any’ve us. Excuse me for a moment. Fitzmaurice, don’ even think about touchin’ me plate.” Liam walks over to Major Callahan and politely interrupts, “Excuse me, Michael. I’ll jus’ be a moment. Major, I’ve got him back for ye. Best tell the Colonel if ye see him. Ye know how your brother worries when someone goes missin’.”

“Thankee, Captain. As I was sayin’, Michael…”

Liam returns to the table, inspects his plate, and, remembering that Kerrigan is not watching, stuffs his face in the hope that there will be food left when he returns to the buffet. After four courses each, Conan asks, “Was Fitzmaurice drunk?”

“No. He doesn’t drink ‘til he’s sure he won’t be needed. Sometimes his jokes go too far. I shouldn’t’ve attacked him. I’ve a mite o’ me father’s famous temper when I’ve a bit o’ the liquor in me. Normally, he’s not this bad. ‘Tis Doctor Sparrow. They’re old friends, an’ they’ve not seen each other for some years now. Sparrow went off to medical school, an’ Fitzmaurice to officer trainin’. Sparrow married Annie O’Malley an’ moved to District Five. Fitzmaurice lives in a little place by the river, so I’m told. Sparrow an’ Fitzmaurice, each alone, are very competent men, serious, responsible. The two o’ them together is askin’ for trouble.”

After Liam’s fifth course, the food is finally gone, and the heavy drinking begins. Conan has never had more than a sip of hard liquor before. The water supply in Bridgeton is not very safe so, save District Five, which has suitable groundwater for wells and whose parents can afford bi-weekly ice delivery and thus have a way to preserve food and drinks, children grow up drinking weak beer and cider. Despite this, Conan does not have much taste or tolerance for alcohol yet, and he does not know how to drink safely or when to stop. Drinking amongst officers is a privilege rarely given to a Private. Conan is somewhat intimidated by his superiors, though he tries not to show his fear. He tries to keep pace with Liam, but he begins to feel very ill very quickly.

“Conan…Conan! Slow down!” shouts Fitzmaurice, seeing Conan’s reaction. Conan falls off the stump on which he had been sitting. “Feck! Brendan! Brendan! Get over here quick! He’s not breathin’!”

“Christ! What’d ye do to him, Liam?” asks Brendan.

“Nothin’! I swear! I didn’t hurt him a’ ‘tall. This was all the drink. He was fine one minute, an’ the next he’s on the ground turnin’ blue.”

“Fitzmaurice! Get your arse over here! Now!” shouts Colonel Callahan, who was near enough to hear the shouting.

“Aye, sor?” asks Captain Fitzmaurice warily.

“Did I not order the lot o’ ye to keep from swearin’ an’ fightin’ ‘round the boy?”

“Aye, sor. Ye did.”

“Did ye jus’ swear?”

“Aye, sor.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t flog your arse blue for disobeyin’ a direct order?”

“I’ll give ye two. One, ye jus’ broke your own order twice.”

“Fitzmaurice!”

“Sorry…sorry. Jaysus! Secon’, an’ this’ll cover the blasphemy too…I on’y swor ‘cos I saw the boy pass out blue. Sparrow’s got him.”

“What’d ye four Captains an’ that civilian doctor do to him? I can’t touch Sparrow, but I’ll have your necks for this!”

“He tried to kep up wi’ Liam. I ain’t even been drinkin’ yet.”

“Liam!”

“Aye, sor?”

“Did ye challenge Conan to some sort o’ drinkin’ game? D’ye think this is funny? Are ye in wi’ Sparrow an’ Fitzmaurice?”

“No, sor. Doctor Sparrow says he’ll be fine.”

“He’d better be or I’ll string the lot o’ ye by the necks. Understood?”

“Aye, sor,” reply Billy and Liam in unison.

“Now both o’ ye get lost, an’ see to it the boy sleeps in me tent tonight. No sense havin’ him where the enlisted men can fuck wi’ him.”

“I take it the ban on swearin’, cursin’, cussin’, an’ blasphemy is over, then?” asks Fitzmaurice.

“Feck off!” growls Colonel Callahan.

Not long after, Captain Fitzmaurice and Doctor Sparrow drink themselves to sleep. Little by little, the unit finds its way to bed, eventually leaving only General Keegan Callahan and Liam.

“Captain, I’d like to have a word wi’ ye.”

“Aye, sor.”

“Are ye alright? Ye seem bothered.”

“’Mworried.”

“Is this about Jack? He can take care o’ himself.”

“’Tis about meself. ‘Mworried ‘mturnin’ into him. Look around ye. What d’ye see? I’m the last one out here. ‘Mdrinkin’ alone, an’ ‘mnot drunk enough yet. If I’d not been drinkin’ all night, I’d’ve been watchin’ your son, sor, an’ he’d be fine.”

“Knowin’ when to stop drinkin’s a brutal lesson, but ‘tis one every man needs to learn. Now Fitzmaurice, he stops ‘afore he falls asleep. He hasn’t much choice. Mike Crane stops when he starts goin’ on about his dead brother Frank. Your uncle Shane stops jus’ ‘afore he thinks he won’ be able to walk. I’ve been drinkin’ poitín since I were jus’ a lad, an’ ‘mnot an alcoholic yet. Me daddy said to me once when I was maybe fourteen that he wanted me to get good an’ drunk that night. Me ma’ was out o’ town visitin’ wi’ her sister. Well, like any other boy would, I took him up on the offer. I got so drunk I was seein’ tripple. Thought I was dyin’. The next mornin’, he made me scrub the stone sides o’ the house top to bottom an’ help him fix a hole in the thatchin’. I thought he was the biggest bastard at the time, but he taught me a lesson I won’ soon forget. He taught me life don’ stop jus’ cos’ ye’re drunk. Ye’ve still gotta work. Ye’ve still got responsibilities. If he’d not done that I’d be in a hone in the ground feedin’ the worms. When I was sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, I’d a group o’ friends what liked to party. Every last one o’ them’s dead ‘cept me. Granted, some o’ them did die in the Revolution, but most o’ them drank themselves to death, an’ the three that didn’t, an’ that’s out’ve about twenty, died drunk in combat. He had to learn sooner or later. I’m jus’ glad his brothers is here to take care o’ him. The boy’ll be fine.”

“So ye’re not mad?”

“No. Not a’ ‘tall.”

“While that’s a relief, I still wish it never happened. It just proves ’m not competent, an’ ‘m not fit to be an officer. I mean, if I’d been payin’ attention…”

“Ye’re not Jack. Ye never will be neither, so don’ go on wi’ that shite. Ach! ‘Tis time I stop drinkin’. I’m done when I start to swear. I need to get back to me room anyhow. Night, Liam.”

“Goodnight, sor.”

Liam finishes what little alcohol the unit left and returns to his tent as the birds begin to sing in the morning. He does not sleep at all and rises just after dawn with the rest of the men, not realizing how drunk he truly is. He dresses and stands outside his tent in the icy dawn, shivering like everyone else. When the Colonel sees Liam, he tells Doctor Sparrow to watch him carefully. Liam can barely stand unaided. Doctor Sparrow looks at him and sends him back to bed, deeming him too intoxicated to work. He cannot sleep, so he talks with Doctor Sparrow looks at him and sends him back to bed, deeming him unfit to work. He cannot sleep, so he talks with Doctor Sparrow to pass the time. Conan eventually wanders into the tent to speak with Doctor Sparrow.

“Doctor, I feel ill. What should I do?”

“Ye’ve a hangover, Conan,” says Liam. “Nothin’ worse. Now go into town, get two shots, three at most, in whatever bar ye see first. Come back, an’ ye’ll be fine.”

“Doctor?”

“He’s right. Hair o’ the dog. Oh, an’ stay away from Fitzmaurice.”

“He got one too?”

“No. He’ll put ye to work. He’s real strict about enlisted men bein’ sober enough to work. Officers don’ do much unless we‘re in combat, but the lot o’ ye work whether ye’re attackin’ someone or cleanin’ the camp.”

Conan stumbles to town alone and finds a bar quickly. Nobody looks twice at him, despite his young age because he is just old enough to wear a uniform. He buys himself two shots of whiskey, and the bartender does not question him. A terrifyingly large local man challenges anyone to out-drink him. He is not much taller than Conan, but in terms of sheer bulk, he is nearly twice as large. He offers fifty gold to anyone who can beat him. When nobody accepts, he offers a hundred. He says his final offer is a hundred and fifty, and Conan, unable to resist and realizing the man is already very drunk, says, “I’ll do it.”

The man throws his head back and laughs. “A boy thinks he can beat me. He don’t even know how to shave yet.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Are ye sure your ma’ won’t beat me wi’ her rollin’ pin if ye get drunk?”

“Me ma’s not here. She’s in Bridgeton. Leave her out o’ this. Give me a chance.”

“I like ye, boyo. I’ll challenge ye. Loser pays for winner’s drinks. If ye win, I’ll pay ye a hundred fifty gold. Las’ one standin’ wins. Deal?”

The bartender hands each of them a bottle of whiskey and a glass and tells them to begin. Conan lets the older man drink faster, and, before he has finished his third bottle, he is on the ground asleep. Conan finishes his third bottle, pours a bucket of ice water on the man, and says, “I’m from the Thirteenth Bridgeton. I’m tougher than I look.”

“Ye’ve bettered me, laddy. Here’s your money.”

The bartender says, “Ye’d best get back to your unit. ‘Tis nearly six.”

Conan runs back to camp, drunk and excited. As soon as he reaches the edge of camp, he stops running and falls into a tree, vomits, and collapses. When he wakes, three of Doctor Sparrow are standing over him. He is wearing nothing, and his uniform is hanging outside covered in vomit.

“I won…” he mumbles.

“I said two or three shots, not bottles! Jaysus!” exclaims Liam.

“Is he alright?” asks Captain Fitzmaurice, genuinely concerned.

“Fine,” says Doctor Sparrow. “Stupid, but fine.”