It's my fault that I'm a soldier. I was a carpenter and worked casually until I got a bit of a stash. Then I'd go and stop with my old friend, Ernie, a hermit who lived in the wilderness with his dog, trapping, fishing, and distilling his own version of whiskey. I'd spent a lot of time with him over the years and he kept telling me that our very own country was going to go to war with itself.

"Ryan. This is going to be nasty," he told me. "They're callin' it a Civil War and there ain't nothin' civil about it. The country's gunna be split, even families'll be fightin' each other. The army's gunna grab anyone they can lay their hands on. Move in with me for the duration." So I did.

Ernie's been around since The Flood and he was fairly smart. It was a good life. We rowed his little boat through the swamps and creeks looking for fish. He had a shotgun and a large calibre revolver just in case any fool-hardy 'gators got too close. We take leftovers from the previous night's dinner and a jar each of his home made whiskey. His old hound-dog sits in the front of the boat keeping watch.

I went to ground and shoulda stayed there. Ernie kept warning me but I was keeping company with a spritely lass in town and I enjoyed her company. Her mother went to bed early after a snifter of hospital brandy, leaving us to ourselves. Then, walking home late at night this fool got picked up, shanghaied by a recruiting squad. How many good men have been brought undone by love?

We were lined up on the parade ground and told that we were now in the army. If we deserted we would be hunted down, tried and executed. If we were insubordinate - the same. There were a multitude of military sins for which we could be executed. Being a smarty, I bided my time and considered my options as I marched endlessly on to die in a war that's not any of my business.

We were in enemy territory and were attacked. An ambush! It was an absolute shambles. Men running, shooting at hidden targets, being shot. One of our cannons was fired, a great plume of smoke enveloped everything. That was my opportunity, I grabbed it, ran through the smoke and kept on running--- Right into the arms of an enemy foraging party.

"Look lads, we've captured a coward," one of the enemy said.

"What!" I shrieked. "My officer selected me to reconnoiter a flank attack on you, because I'm a brave and resourceful scout. And I hope you're honorable soldiers and treat me accordingly." Which they did.

They collected a few others, put us in a horse drawn cart and sent us north to their home base. On arrival, we were paraded in front of a stately looking old gent who said, "Men, I am Harold, a government advisor. I am now going to advise you that as prisoners of war, you can spend your time locked up securely in a compound with few amenities and very basic rations. As POWs it's your duty to try to escape. As captors, it's our duty to hunt you down and execute you. But, there's an alternative. For obvious reasons we are short of labour. If you choose to work you will be well looked after. Now, does anyone have any trade skills?"

One of our prisoners said, "I will not lift a hand to help you in any way. You are our heinous enemy."

"Bravely said, lad," Harold told him.

Brave but stupid, I thought as they marched him off.

"I am a carpenter," I said, "and prepared to work for my keep, but not on any military equipment that may hurt my brave compatriots," I said bravely and cleverly.

Old Harold, as it turned out, was a several times removed uncle to the lunatic family with which I would eventually be boarded. He took me to the home of a carpenter who was off carpenting. The wife said. "We can certainly use a carpenter but we can't board him. We have a two bedroom house and four large boys growing larger by the day. The baker just down the road has a three bedroom house and only one child, a daughter."

And that's how it came to pass. The baker wanted me to bake but I told him that I was promised to the carpenter. His wife told her husband that they could fit me in and they could use the rent. The daughter, Eva, smiled welcomingly ---

----

2 GOIN' HOME

Weeks later, I was laying on our marriage bed alone reading a weekly news sheet. Unbelievable! Lincoln's just been assassinated less than a week after The South surrendered. I might go home to the South and claim I'd been held as a POW and bravely escaped. Not the deserter they probably thought I was. It was all Eva's fault, she seduced me! As a gentleman, I was too polite to refuse her.

Eva's in hospital for a couple of days having non-pregnancy tests. I was hoping they couldn't find out why. I don't want to be a father. I was starting to think that I don't want to be married to Eva and all the baggage involved. I just wanted to be a bachelor. Oh, I liked Eva, she was beautiful and a lovely person. I looked at her picture on the cabinet. A lovely lady captured in a photogravure. But her family was not loveable. Her father was an old tyrant, not that he was around much. He was a baker and seemed to bake day and night. I think, he thought that when I joined the family I'd be standing shoulder to shoulder baking with him. But I got a job as a carpenter and worked sensible hours. Eva's mother drank a bit and got maudlin about her absentee hubby and her life in general. I asked Eva if her hubby gave her mother a jolly good see-ing to would she brighten up. Eva giggled at the thought of her parents going for it. "Don't be disgusting Ryan." And then there was good old Uncle Harold, a busy-body, something in the government, always giving me good advice.

I was reading around midnight when Mother-in-law came into my bedroom carrying a whiskey bottle and crying. "He's still working. He doesn't love me anymore. You love me, don't you Ryan?"

"Of course I do Esther." And that's all she needed. She put her bottle on my table, tore at my clothes, shucked her nighty and gave me a jolly good see-ing to. I was shocked but had been missing out lately so I didn't protest until she rolled off me. I was laying there in a state of dishevelment. I'd occasionally eyed mother-in-law, a comely wench for her age. And now ---

The door burst open and the old boy roared in, yelling and swearing. I didn't have time to tell him that I was an innocent party, a victim of circumstances. He was waving something large and heavy in a threatening manner as he rounded the bed. I managed to get a foot up and kicked him in his belly. He stopped, bent over. I rolled off the bed, grabbed the chamber pot and clouted him with it.

He went out like a light. So was Esther, flat on her back, snoring on the other side of the bed. I thought it may calm the situation if I threw Esther's nighty chastely over her bountiful body. Father-in-law was breathing okay. I figured the die was cast. I dressed, pulled my old army back-pack out of the wardrobe, packed it, pulled on my sturdy boots and hoped they'd last me for 200 miles. The weather was verging on the autumnal, I donned my canvas coat and hat, oh yeah, I emptied Esther's whiskey bottle, filled it with water and headed off to freedom and sanity. Off I marched, a happy man. No lunatics in-law, no squalling, smelly babies or --- I'd miss Eva, the only positive part of the package. Maybe I should have asked interfering old Uncle Harold's advice. No way, I laughed.

A few hours before dawn and it's damn cool. If I can keep moving I'll be home before winter hits. I'm heading south into a more temperate clime, that'll help.

Oh no. First obstacle! Somebody's walking out of the dark towards me. Our local cop. Calmly now Ryan, I told myself. " 'morning, Officer."

" 'Mornin' lad. Early start?"

"I can't sleep, a row in the house. He works too late. She should be more appreciative, etc. I'm gunna sleep in Murphy's stables up the road a bit and go home when they beat each other to death or settle their problems over breakfast."

"I know what you're talking about," the cop said. "I have the same problem in my house with my job. Well, off you go lad and sleep tight."

Off he went. I wondered if he'll get dragged into the melee that's about to explode in our house?

Move on, I told myself. That lunatic of a father-in-law could come looking for me and he's got an extended clan of brothers and cousins. He might marshal them and put a bounty on my head.

"The swine attempted to assault my poor, innocent wife. Let's find him and string him up, boys!"

Keep going, Ryan, I told myself. And I stepped lively into a burgeoning sunrise. I certainly won't be sleeping in Murphy's stables or anywhere else until I'm home safe.

I was marching along at my old military pace which, I suspect, was designed to cover maximum

distance at a useful speed and minimum energy ouput.

3 The road was flat as was the country-side with fields of harvested grain and lined with trees and scrub, a wind-break for the crops. And a hidey-hole for the pursued. No sign of any pursuers yet but I was sure they'd come.

The day wore on, I sat on a large rock and rested, had a sip of my water. And heard something!

I held my breath and heard the clip-clop of horse's hooves on the graded road surface. I eased back into the road-side scrub, laid down - after checking for wildlife - pulled my darkish overcoat off my back-pack and hid under it. Very still. Watching and waiting. A one-horse wagon with two men on the bench seat and four in the back approached. I saw two rifles held vertical as they chattered. "The bloody animal was trying to wrench the clothes off my Esther." That'd be my father-in-law, of course.

"Was she putting up a good fight?" one yob asked.

" 'course she was. Hey, what are you suggesting?"

"Dunno, I wasn't there."

The wagon rolled past me and I stayed still till it was about one hundred yards past and then it stopped. No, they had no suspicions, just a toilet break. Lucky they hadn't stopped one hundred yards earlier, we would have all been embarrassed. I laid still, their voices barely a murmur. And something touched my ear. I leapt to my knees, reaching for my knife ---

And I saw a mottled mutt called Wimpy. He lived a few doors down from us and often accompanied me on an evening walk. He belonged to a relative of my father-in-law. "Wimpy old mate, how ya doin'? I gave him a pat and an ear scratch and we had a little chat then we both heard his master bellowing. "Where the hell are you, you bloody flea bag?"

"Off you go, Mate. Remember, not a word." He gave me lick of assurance and raced back to his hunting team.

I watched them roll on, hunting me and it occurred to me that I was now the hunter, following them. Not really, because I couldn't comfortably keep up with them. They may realise that I'd let them pass me and lay in wait for me. Plan B: follow them as far as I could, comfortably keeping them in my sights, making use of the flat road and then when they drew away from me, I'll head cross-country. A lot slower going but safer.

But because I was a good person, the gods smiled on me just as the sun settled into the horizon. My hunters turned about and came back. Looking for me? I went a little deeper into the roadside scrub and hid. Knife in hand.

They rumbled past arguing:

"He's probably left the road and gone cross-country."

"You never said we'd be out overnight."

"Did anyone bring any rations? Or a bottle?""

"Hey Alf, with you away, somebody may be rattlin' the lovely Esther's bones right now."

"I'll punch yer lights out, you rude bastard."

"Only sayin'. When the cat's away---"

And the wagon rolled by.

I put on my overcoat, pulled my hat down and with my back-pack as a pillow I slept the sleep of the nearly pure in heart.

I woke up in the morning just as the sun was starting to do its thing. I was a bit cold, a bit stiff but

I walked that out leaving me bloody hungry. I'd planned to forage as I went. In the rush to leave I'd grabbed two bread buns off the kitchen bench. I ate one last night that leaves me one bread bun to last me for weeks. I wondered if I could get sufficient nourishment if I just sniffed it once a day. I sniffed mightily and jammed it into my mouth. Oh well, that was plan B. I plodded on ---

Twenty-four hours later I woke up, struggled to my feet, put my gear together and marched on. Marched? I hadn't eaten anything for 24 hours. I was running out of strength and nowhere near half-way home. If I find a pedestrian I'll consider eating him. There's very little movement on the road. I was passed by a couple of mounted patrols. I wondered if they were looking for me. Surely not. The odd coach or wagon trundled past but I hid from any and all traffic. I noted that I was the only fool walking it. The harvest had finished, that may be why there's little movement.







4 I walked past an old farm-house set back from the road. I saw a bloke harnessing a horse to a small wagon. I thought of asking him for something to eat but this was still the North, full of Damn Yankees that might want to shoot me. My father-in-law wanting to shoot me was enough to worry about. I trudged on---

After a while I became aware a wagon was coming up behind me. I didn't have the energy to take evasive action.

"Hey young feller, you want a ride."

It was the old bloke from the farm-house. Damn right I wanted a ride. "Yessir please, I'm just about wore out."

"Jump aboard, how far are yer goin'?"

"Way down south, just about till I run outa land."

"You a Johnny Reb, boy?"\

"I was, Sir."

"Well, that tom foolery's all over now so I'm heading that way to see my daughter, she lives in San Pedro."

"Sir, that's close to my home. I'm Billy and I'm gunna join the army if there is one. They feed you regular. I like that."

"You hungry, Billy. Open that box and grab a sandwich."

"Thank you, Sir. I haven't eaten for a couple of days," I said. Wow, this box is knee deep in sandwiches.

"I made a lot of sandwiches cos I dunno how long it'll take me'n old Hoss to get there."

I just nodded and munched.

"I'm Hiram, just sold me property," he said. "Me daughter wants me to move in with her. Her kids have grown up and taken off. She reckons I'm too old to live on me own. I reckon she's lonely, too."

"It's nice that you've got family who care about you, Hiram," I said thoughtfully.

"Surely is. After me wife died a few years back, me daughter came visitin' me twice a year until the war stopped her. There was a coach that goes went each way. Then I'd pay a few dollars and visit me daughter a cuppla times a year. But now, I've sold the farm and left everything behind but for our wedding photo."

"Your daughter obviously loves you," I sighed. "You're a lucky man. I've got nobody." But I thought, that's the way I want it! But of course, fate has a way of fouling up the best laid plans of men.

BETRAYAL Pt 2

I'm home again, after weeks of death and destruction, hunger and abject fear. And, of course, a

sad misunderstanding concerning love in all the wrong places and with the wrong people.

I reported to my old Base but it was different. A lot of wounded soldiers in wheelchairs on crutches, some just sitting, staring into space.

The brass interrogated me, wanting to know how and why we were so soundly beaten. "How would I know? I was only a private," I told them. "If I had offered my opinion, I would have been shot for mutiny." I could have told them that it was an ill-conceived battle plan conceived by idiots and carried out by idiots who had since been mostly culled from the face of the earth thus improving the army and the species. But I didn't.

I told them I had been taken prisoner, bravely endured brutal treatment until I could heroically escape, wading through the blood of my slaughtered enemies. Thought I may have got a medal. I was told I was lucky that I wasn't court martialed for allowing myself to be captured in the first place.

"Wait a minute! The war's over. This is all irrelevant. Our Confederate army's supposed to be disbanded. This is an ex-army base, it's a hospice now, not a military base."

"Only for the moment, lad. The South's going to rise again. And we're going to be ready." I was told by the pompous ass.

I was surrounded by desperate lunatics. "Gentlemen, I've endured and suffered hardship for the South, now I'm asking for your help. I need a job and a place to sleep. Will you help a veteran? And when the South strikes back, I'll be ready to stand shoulder to shoulder with you. Dauntless!" Like hell, I will, I thought, I'll be over the fence and far away.

And as always, baloney baffles brains and they gave me a job.

----

I'd been promoted to corporal in this illegal army and attached to the warehouse squad. Two of us were in charge of bedding and other hospital and office stuff. I'd settled into semi-military life. Only peacetime, mind you. The first hint of war and I was off. I'd done my bit. I'll make an art-form of desertion. I've already got a go-bag and my escape route planned.

Came the weekend, I signed an old nag out of the stables and headed off to the everglades to spend time with old Ernie. He eased out from behind a huge oak-tree with a rifle. "Stop or die, you revenue-in' swine."

"Hey Ernie, it's Ryan, your old drinkin' buddy."

"Hot damn! You're here! Climb down off that horse and share a jar with me. How on earth did you survive? Thousands died."

I was tempted to tell him that I survived by my cleverness, good fortune, and animal cunning. But I told him,"Just lucky."

So we spent the weekend fishing and catching up. Just like old times. Early Monday morning, I rode back to the hospice, handed in my horse and resumed my duties. Mid-morning nothing much was happening in my store so I wandered around and talked to the veterans. One man was captured by Sherman on his march to the sea: three hundred miles on a sixty mile front in thirty seven days. Destroying everything in their path. They made sure that the South was NOT going to rise again. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine the horror.

“Corporal, are you alright? Have you taken a turn? You've been staring into space for minutes.”

Sgt Hank was shaking me. “C'mon, wake up you dozy bugger.”

Hank was one of the few old ex- career soldiers around. He's in charge of the few doctors and the orderlies. I reckon that he wasn't able to adapt to civilian life.

“What? Sarge! Oh yeah," I told him. “If you want anything, we haven't got it. Nil stocks, fresh out, closed for stocktake. Come back next month."

“Nah, pass. Nick wants us to go around to his place for a drink after stand-down,” Hank said.

“OK, Sarge. Now that he's retired, I don't see him often and the poor old soul's widowed.”

“Alright,” Hank said. “I'll have a shower and meet you at 1700 hours by the main gate.”

“Will I bring a bottle?” I asked.

“A gentleman would.”

I was all brushed up in my civvies, lookin' good, armed with a bottle of Nick's favourite rum, Old Footrot. I wondered what this was all about. Not that Nick doesn't mind a bit of company. Hank was at the gate and on time, of course. Nick and him were punctuality freaks. We strolled the half mile or so to Nick's home while Hank told me why I never became a sergeant.

“Dunno about that, Sarge. Napoleon started as a corporal and went on to rule the world. Well,

nearly.”

Hank laughed, “Face it Ryan. You can't even look after yourself let alone rule the world.”

Keep your mouth shut Ryan, I told meself. In the gate we went up to the front door which was ajar.

“We're here Nick. Are you decent?” Hank called.

“Yeah, mate. Have you got that reprobate with you?” Nick answered.

“Watch it Nick, I'm expecting a fanfare of trumpets seein' as I come bearing a gift.” I called as Hank ushered me in. There were people sitting on the couch, Nick was standing by the end. “Hi Nick and others,” I said, turned, focused on them and tried to understand. It didn't make sense. I closed my eyes for a moment and then opened them. The reality hit me.

“Eva?” My ex! My war bride from the other end of the country! I looked around for her crazy father. He was not here, thank God.

“Hullo Ryan,” she said, very restrained, very pale, very pretty and straight-faced. Nick stepped

over and helped her to her feet. And very pregnant! The person, sitting beside her, rose with difficulty. I remembered the elderly Uncle Harold. He'd had a couple of serious conversations with me when I was living with Eva's family. One of the reasons I decided to scarper, intact.

I looked around. Hank was still behind me. In the doorway. Blocking my exit. "Penny for your thoughts," he whispered.

“Rat bastard,” I murmured out the side of my mouth. He gave me an encouraging smile. If ever in my life I wanted to bolt, it was now.

“You do know everybody, Ryan,” Nick asked most solicitously.

“We should let the young ones have a chat, what do you think gentlemen?” Harold said. “They

have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Absolutely, Harold. Shall we retire to the front verandah. The kettle's just off the boil if you

young'uns want to make a cuppa,” Nick suggested. I didn't even realise that he'd relieved me of the bottle of rum until he thanked me for my kindness.

The door shut behind them and Eva and I stared at each other.

THE END

Appendix: betrayal on a multi level. Eva betrayed Ryan by getting pregnant. Ryan betrayed Eva by deserting her. Nick and Sgt Hank, fellow service-men of Ryan, betrayed him despite his gift. Plus the ultimate, unmentionable betrayal! Oh, the perfidy of mankind!

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