The Mockingbird's Ballad

The US Army had counted 27,146 soldiers as of April1, 1898. This tiny force was spread from the Atlantic coast to Pacific coast. The Indian Wars were over. No large-scale war training had been undertaken in decades because of small numbers and any real need for such training given the mission of the army. By August 1, 1898, the army numbered 272,046 - 56,012 regulars and 216,034 volunteers.

Congressman Joseph Wheeler, from Alabama's 8th Congressional District, West Point graduate, 1859, six year veteran of the United States Army (1854-1861) and four year veteran of the Confederate States of America Army (1861-65), was one of the first to volunteer. He, Matthew C. Butler and Fitzhugh Lee, all Confederate Generals, were appointed Major Generals. The Civil War was more over now than anytime in the years since 1865. "Fightin' Joe" was critical to that reconciliation in his volunteering for US service.

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"Sir, you can't go through," the sergeant of the guard informed Solon in a strong voice. "This is a military reservation not a holiday lark. It might look like an amusement park, but it ain't! You people have no idea what's what." The lean, crisp, sunburned private said to the Stevenson's in disgust.

"Soldier, I need to see General Wheeler. It's important." Solon tried to persuade the guard to relent and let he, Lou and Joe in.

"Sorry, I have my orders, Sir."

Solon, exasperated, looked away from the dutiful soldier's face. He gazed away from the sentry towards the tops of the huge palm trees that filled the sunny sky and puffed his breath out in frustration. He turned and looked at Lou. His eyes were filled with anger but he was an old soldier and knew what the private meant.

"A message then, Son?" Lou said, joining in the impasse. She was standing a step back and left of Solon and Joe and stepped up to the sentry as she addressed him.

"Ma'am I can't be leaving my post to deliver civilian notes," the impatient career soldier informed the three. He didn't add that his volunteer army courier was off somewhere out of the heat. The situation was messed up enough.

"General Wheeler will want to see us, Sergeant," Lou tried again.

"General Wheeler? Did you say General Wheeler, Madam?" came a clear, high voice from behind the three.

Lou turned toward the voice, her gaze followed by Joe's and Solon's.

"Sir," snapped the private saluting the smallish fit man in a new khaki uniform with bright yellow trim. He wore a new brown campaign hat with left brim turned up and pinned to crown with crossed sword insignia, highly polished shoes with knee high brown leggings, and a white polka dotted blue bandana as a loose cravat around his neck. The sun flickered off the small gold-rimmed spectacles that rested on his red nose. A brushy moustache like Solon's, only dark brown not nearly white, topped his big toothy smile.