Battle of Lookout Mountain by Gilbert L. Morris Page A

given him. “And if Ira Pickens says one more word to me, I’m gonna bust him!”
    “No, sir, you don’t want to do that, Drake!” Rosie protested, forgetting his ailments. Alarm was in his voice. “Don’t ever hit nobody that’s over you, not an officer or not even a sergeant.”
    “I don’t care what happens,” Drake said sullenly. He closed his eyes as if that would shut out Rosie’s words.
    Rosie continued to argue for some time but found himself completely ignored. “Well,” he said, “I guess I’ll lie down here myself and rest awhile. A man in my condition needs lots of rest.”
    The next day Rosie and the rest of the squad were working again on the ditch when Sgt. Ira Pickens came by.
    “You fellas keep at it,” he said. “Those Rebels over there may decide to pay us a call.”
    “Aw, they’re as fought out as we are, Sarge,” Walter Beddows said. He tossed a small shovelful of dirt up on the edge of the ditch and grinned. “Why don’t you come down here and help us?”
    Ira Pickens was a veteran by this time, though he was very young. He’d turned into a fine sergeant. “They didn’t make me sergeant to dig ditches,” he remarked. “Just to stay on the backs of you lowly privates. Now you get with it, Walter. Someday you’ll be a sergeant like me.”
    Rosie watched Ira walk along a few steps and glance at Drake, who was leaning against the raw earth of the bank, staring down at his feet.
    “Won’t do no good to study that dirt, Drake,” Ira said. “Start pitching it up here.”
    Rosie suspected that Drake had slept little during the previous night. By now most men would have gotten over a bawling out from an officer, but not Drake Bedford. He glared up at Ira and said abruptly, “Dig all the dirt you want, Pickens. Just don’t be telling me what to do!”
    Ira looked taken aback. His eyes narrowed, and he said, “Get to work, Drake. Don’t give me any of your back talk.”
    Drake laughed harshly. Then he cursed the sergeant and ended up by saying, “You’re not gonna tell me what to do.”
    “How’d you like a little trip to the guardhouse?” Ira inquired. He was a peaceful young man, but he could not ignore this sort of behavior from his men.“Now get to work, Drake, or that’s where you’ll wind up.”
    Drake threw down his shovel and was on the lip of the ditch in one swift movement. To Rosie’s horror, he lashed out and struck the sergeant in the face.
    Pickens was knocked backward, and blood began to flow from his nose.
    Drake stood over him saying, “I’ll do what I please, Pickens.”
    Rosie and Royal bounded up out of the ditch. Each took one of Drake’s arms, and Rosie said, “Now you done it!” He groaned, holding on tightly. “Now, you tell Ira you’re sorry there, and maybe you’ll get out of this.”
    “That’s right, Drake,” Royal agreed.
    Blood from the sergeant’s nose had stained his uniform, and anger was in his eyes. He got to his feet. “Bring him along. We’ll see if a stay in the guardhouse will make him a little bit more easy to live with.”
    But Drake refused to go to the guardhouse, and finally Ira had to summon others from the company to manhandle him.
    Then Lieutenant Smith was called in, and he scowled, saying, “You’re not much of a fighting man when it counts, Bedford. Why didn’t you show a little of this when we were facing the Rebels?”
    Drake looked him straight in the eye and called him a vile name.
    Lieutenant Smith’s face flushed. “Throw him in the guardhouse! Let’s see how a few days on bread and water will satisfy him.”
    Rosie talked to Royal later. “Well, it looks like Drake’s done tore it now,” he said sadly. He shookhis head and added mournfully, “He’s gonna hate that place. I spent one day in it once for not saluting an officer, and I was ready to quit a long time before they was. It’s a bad place.”
    “Maybe it’ll teach Drake to be a little bit more polite.”
    Rosie shook his head.