Key West, Florida
Confederate States of America
28th March 1898
Arthur and Stanley sweated profusely in the Caribbean heat, reluctant to step from under the canopy, which was shielding them from the high midday sun. Complementary iced lemonade had been laid out for them by General Wheeler’s batman, an ancient black called Horatio, but had soon disappeared, the two’s thirst barely quenched. For once Stanley was content to remain completely sober, liquid of any kind was all that he sought; that and he knew (or rather believed) the Confederate military kept the best whiskey cabinet this side of Aberdeen, he knew it was only a matter of waiting before the bourbon flowed.
Alf by comparison handled the humidity pleasantly, having been raised on the Canadian plains, not to mention his many photojournalistic expeditions across the Americas. While his partner(s) broiled in their cream tweed waistcoats, Alf, bedecked in khaki shorts and a wide-brimmed fedora, focused the lens of his camera, trying to get a perfect picture of B Company of the 9th Kentucky Colored Regiment. The abolition of slavery and the looming war with Spain had finally seen black enlistment, albeit segregated, into the Confederate Armies made legal. The past months had seen a groundswell of black volunteers, some no doubt trying to leave their drudging, oppressive lives at least for a while, but with most, they were overcome like that rest of the nation with patriotic fervour, the streets of New Orleans, Richmond and Miami ringing with the chants of “To Hell with Spain!”.
“Alright hold it right there boys”, called Alf from under the hood of his camera as he delicately adjusted the bellows, bringing the formation into focus. “To Hell with Spain”!
“To Hell with Spain”! The men called in unison, broad smiles on their faces, including the white officers. The camera clicked, and a gentle call of approval came from B Company as they began to disperse back to their billets. A few of them shook Alf’s hand, excited that their families would get to see them in the paper. Alf was too kind to point out that very few copies of The London Times were circulated in the Bluegrass State but considering a lot of photographs got circulated around, it wasn’t impossible that B Company would end up in the Louisville press in the near future.
Alf, took off his hat and wiped the sweat away from his brow, blinking up at the sun. He walked over to the canopy, just as Horatio arrived with another tray of lemonade.
“Thank you very much”, said Stanley with a tone of desperate gratitude, pouring himself a large glass even as the tray was still being set down on the table. Horatio gave a smile and walked away in silence.
“I think I’ll be having one of them fellas”, exclaimed Alf as he virtually fell into his chair. “A little hot ain’t it”?
Stanley spluttered in his drink, while Arthur gave him a look, mixed of shock, disgust and total exhaustion. “I must say”, Arthur answered, laced with sarcasm “it does beat Brighton Beach somewhat”
“Ha ha, ah you Brits, don’t worry it does take some getting used to but I’m sure you’ll soon find the Caribbean a rather pleasant place, even given the circumstances of our trip”.
“I hope so”
“So”, asked Stanley to no-one in particular “do you think the coloured soldiers will perform well, all of them being raw and all”
“Well Zulu auxiliaries showed the Mahdi a thing or two at Khartoum, saved Gordon’s skin”, answered Arthur “what was it he said “give a Zulu a spear and he is ferocious, give him a rifle and a bayonet and he is invincible””
“I fought along plenty of black soldiers at the Rio Grande”, interrupted Alf “A lot of them escaped slaves as well. Fought like lions they did, all for the promise of a scrap of land to call their own from Austin. That said these boys ain’t got any of that, but they’re patriots alright, they’ll fight”
Alf had spent much the journey south regaling in particular Stanley with tales of his misadventures back in the summer of 1887 during his first foreign assignment; the Rio Grande War. He had told of his rather ‘active’ participation on the Texan side during the skirmish, even helping to capture an Imperial Eagle, a tale that had lit up Stanley’s green face like a schoolboy.
“Excuse me sirs”, Horatio said sheepishly, appearing out of thin air “but General Wheeler will see Mr. Lambert now”
“Oh excellent”, Arthur said, standing up to put on his jacket and grab his bag
“Follow me sir”
****
Horatio led Arthur across the camp, passing units doing drill, shooting, singing and other activities as the Confederate 1st Army’s stay on Key West languished into its third week. Arthur noticed that while the white troops wore fresh British-made khaki uniforms (or as they called it ‘butternut’) the black troopers wore the old grey kit of the Civil War era, many being ragged, moth-eaten pieces, while some even wore old Union blue.
“Horatio”?
“Yes sir”?
“Why do so many of the coloured units wear those tattered uniforms”?
“They were donated”
“Donated”?
“Donated. A lot of bond slaves in this army sir, given the uniforms of their employers in return, a lot of the others from old surpluses and what not”
“Do they get their freedom if they fight”?
“Freedom! Sir, with all do respect they ain’t real slaves, they are free. If you mean do they have their bond dropped for service, well yes as long as their army pay makes up the last of the compensation”
“Are you a bond slave Horatio”?
“He he”, chuckled the batman “No sir, used to be for General Wheeler but I paid my bond and now I’m a bona fide solider, the General was gracious enough to keep me on, that’s why I got this fine butternut uniform you see sir”
“Ha, of course”
“Well we’re here sir”, pointed Horatio to the large tent ahead of them “the General will be expecting you”
Arthur made his way into the tent, two guards standing to attention, wielding their antiquated Martini-Henry rifles, a product of Anglo-Confederate friendship. General Wheeler sat inside, scribbling notes down with a large drooping pipe clamped between his teeth puffed away. Wheeler glanced up absently and paused before realising whom his guest was, standing to greet him.
“Mr. Lambert, a pleasure to finally meet you”, the cordial Alabaman said, shaking Arthur’s hand wholeheartedly
“I assure you the pleasure is all mine General”
“Most kind sir, please do sit”
“Thank you”
“Would you like a drink, perhaps a cigar”?
“Oh no thank you General, your assistant supplied plenty of lemonade, I am quite content”
“Very well, I must say I am a busy man Mr. Lambert and though I do not mean to rush you, for the sake of your readers it may be best to keep this to rapid fire questions and answers rather than a conversation as such”
“Of course, I understand General. Well let’s start with basic facts: How many men are present in the 1st Army at Key West”?
“At present 58,000 soldiers, including 9,000 Negroes”
“Will more be arriving”?
“In the event of war, reinforcements will be called upon when or if they are needed”
“Surely war is inevitable”?
“No declaration has been made, so no I do not believe it is inevitable. It is most certainly possible but I’m afraid my days in Richmond* are over, you’d have to talk to President Lee to get a straightforward answer about that”
“He he, very well, next question…
*Representative of Alabama in Congress from 1880-1898