They Met at Shiloh by Phillip Bryant Page B

patriotism was as hard as he had imagined it would be, but he was no longer responsible for people, their well-being, or their spiritual education. In that regard, army life was a relief.
    In no time at all, the men in the company began calling him “reverend.” Philip was not quick to act the part, wishing to be left alone, but the needs of familiar faces prevented him from distancing himself from his old responsibility. Resigned that he could not escape his former calling, he saw to the spiritual needs of anyone who inquired; after all, even Jonah was compelled to bring God’s warning of repentance to the Ninehvites. Being called “Rev” had its advantages, as he would discover. Men would confide in him just about anything, which kept him in the know about everything. However, he soon found this to be a double-edged sword, creating both instant companions and instant enemies. Most were not malicious in their dislike, and no hostility directed at his person. There were just those from whom he knew association would not be reciprocated. A few men, such as Second Sergeant Harper, who was from a family in his circuit, could not restrain their feelings of disdain even before things turned ugly between him and this family.
    As second sergeant, Harper was often put in charge of fatigue details, which the squads rotated now and again in their duties. Normally, this meant seeing to various and sundry details about the encampment or march. Invariably, Philip would find himself and his pards detailed under Harper’s watchful eye for company cook fires, cleaning up around the sinks—a particularly disagreeable task, especially after a few days of the normal deposits of human waste—picket duty—or preparing the officers’ tents. Harper referred to Philip as “the good minister” and took every opportunity to heap abuse or criticism upon whatever Philip was assigned to perform. Never knowing when he might be under Harper’s heel again, Philip struggled with his own resentment toward those injustices. At times, he could not curb his own tongue and would fling barbs of his own Harper’s way until the two men would barely be on civil terms, even for soldiers. The days of the march had been somewhat pleasant for Philip because he and Harper had not crossed paths.
    “Mule, where’s the big bugs?” Johnny Henson asked Theo from under the bill of his forage cap. Johnny made up the fourth of Philip’s pards and old acquaintances from the Ohio River Valley Methodist Societies.
    Philip perked up at the question and opened his eyes. “Oh, Johnny, when’d you sit down?”
    “While you was sawing logs not just ten minutes ago,” Johnny replied.
    “Yeah, Mule, what’s happenin’ on the road?” Philip asked.
    “You’s going to have to find yourselves another spy. I’m tiring of this officer watching,” Theo griped as he stood and peered down the road. Once the officers began to gather and move about, the order to fall in would soon follow. “Relax, meine kinder, them bugs is nowhere to be seen.”
    “Well, I see the good reverend is busy workin’ on his back like any shiftless man of the Good Book,” a voice above them stated.
    Harper stood off the road embankment above Philip and the others with a smirk creasing the corners of his mouth. The soft earth began to trickle down the slope and onto Philip’s neck and shirt. Rising quickly and wiping the dirt off of his neck, Philip retorted, “I’ll be sure to request of the good Lord a nice case of the Kentucky quick step for the rest of your movement. Should complement the diarrhea of your mouth, Sergeant.”
    “You do that, Rev,” Harper said with a smile and turned away.
    When he was out of earshot, “Rear rank, skulker,” Philip hissed.
    Johnny piped up. “I seen Harper pretending to take care of the ammunition at Nashville, hanging back with the other riff-raff while we formed line. He always makes sure he is in charge of some important rear guard action, like