Black Knights of the Hudson Book IV: Long Gray Line

Black Knights of the Hudson

Book IV: Long Gray Line

by Beverly C. Gray

Published by Beverly C. Gray at Smashwords

Copyright 2011 Beverly C. Gray

This eBook is a work of historical fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Author’s Note: This work of historical fiction is intended for mature audiences and contains adult language, graphic scenes of battle, and adult situations.

For Katie, Kevin, and Sophia

Chapter 1

West Point, March 1901

On a warm Saturday afternoon, the train from New York City stopped at the tan brick station house at West Point and disgorged a party of three. One of the women sighed in relief to be off the train and leaned heavily on a stout cane while the tall young man in the group steadied her at the elbow.

Stop fussing, Fitzjames, ordered Adria MacKendrick. I’m not senile. Please go see about the luggage.

Fitz took himself off although his gray eyes seemed rather hurt at her determination not to be coddled. Adria grinned at her sister-in-law. Fitz and Timothy have both been driving me crazy all spring. I swear, Gwyneth, gallantry is all very well but it has its limits.

Adria had slipped on the ice the previous February and broken her hip. In spite of Doctor Miles Remmie’s care, it had not healed properly and had left her dependent on the cane that was now her constant companion. At fifty-eight, she had developed the air of a dowager duchess which the cane enhanced. Gwyneth MacKendrick, who had heard similar complaints all the way up from the city, squinted up at the high-pitched roof of the station.

Does it seem to you that the roof is getting higher, Adria?

I never look at it. It’s an offence to the eye, Adria ignored the comical edifice to peer at some cadets instead. If I had any say in the matter, I wouldn’t have to look at ever again. I’m still not happy about this. West Point destroyed my eldest son. Must I really throw another onto the altar of the military? I do believe the welcoming committee has arrived.

Four gray-clad young men marched quick time to the station. Even at that distance, Adria picked out her tall nephew whose proud height and carriage had only been perfected by his two years at the Academy. Jackson Lee MacKendrick resembled his dead father to a startling degree. He had James MacKendrick’s dark hair and gray eyes. He also had James’ serious demeanor. There was very little of his red-haired, Irish mother in his physical appearance. Following family precedent, Jack received his appointment a year early and was the youngest member of his class. Gwyneth hesitated only a moment and then threw her dignity to the wind and walked briskly to meet her son. Jack lengthened his stride and outdistanced the others to meet her at the edge of the platform.

Hello, Mama, he enveloped her in a big hug.

Gwyneth emerged from the embrace, as pink-cheeked as a girl, and looked up at Jack with happy tears sparkling in her dark green eyes. You’ve grown.

Nonsense, I stopped growing at least a year ago.

Doesn’t he seem taller to you, Adria?

Enormous, Adria agreed with an affectionate kiss on Jack’s smooth cheek.

The other three cadets stood politely to the side and were introduced as Cadets Ulysses S. Grant III, grandson of the former President and General of the Army; Philip Sheridan Jr., son of General Philip Sheridan; and Douglas MacArthur, son of General Arthur MacArthur. Cadet MacArthur, who was a tall, dark-haired young man with the ruddy good looks of the outdoors, impressed Adria especially. She also made it a point to give Cadet Sheridan a special smile for the sake of her husband’s and his father’s old comradeship. Fitzjames appeared then with the luggage.

It never fails to amaze me how much Jack and Fitz resemble each other. More like brothers than cousins for all that Fitz has Timothy’s light brown hair and that radiant grin that still makes my heart stop whenever he smiles. He’s so much like Timothy when he was young. Why, the boys are the same height now. When did THAT happen? Fitzjames is a year younger than Jack.

With four willing helpers to assist Fitz, it was not long before they crossed the Plain to Trophy Point and followed Flirtation Walk to Craney’s Hotel. The hotel was an antebellum structure of warm yellow brick with a wide wooden verandah.

Adria’s gray-green eyes flashed a warning at Fitz as he seemed unable to contain himself in such close proximity to the coveted gray uniform that Jack wore so effortlessly.

~~~

Two ladies sat on the verandah and viewed the approaching cadets and the guests.

That looks like Gwyneth MacKendrick, observed Mrs. Frederick N. Grant to her fellow cadet mother, and most serious rival, Mrs. Arthur MacArthur.

It does indeed.

Dougie is looking very well today; he seems to have a bit more color in his cheeks. I’m so glad that his cold was only a slight one, said Mrs. Grant, in deepest sympathy.

Your young cadet seems to be limping a bit. Are his shoes too tight again? Mrs. MacArthur retaliated, with oozing concern.

Mary Pinkney MacArthur, or Pinky as she was called, had taken up residence at the Craney Hotel to be near her ‘Dougie’. Douglas’ father was off making himself useful in the Philippines while her elder son, Arthur MacArthur III, was with the Navy. Pinky had planned to use her presence at West Point to further her son’s cadet career and had been somewhat thrown off balance when she discovered that Mrs. Grant was employing a similar strategy to the future Army career of her own son. After one careful scrutiny of her opponent, each of the ladies settled into an effusive friendship that was strained only occasionally when one or the other son seemed to be in the ascendancy. No one was fooled by the velvet-glove covered steel of these determined maMAS; least of all their sons. Douglas took it in stride although Cadet Grant tended to mutter about his mother’s presence. Mrs. Grant had a head start on Pinky simply by virtue of the fact that the MacArthurs did not belong to the Army’s Four Hundred on the Grant level.

Mrs. Grant stared hard at the tall, elegant woman who walked beside Mrs. MacKendrick. Good heavens, I do believe that she is Lieutenant General MacKendrick’s wife.

Not really! Mrs. MacArthur had not yet been privileged to meet that illustrious military couple. What has brought her here, I wonder?

Well, Jackson Lee is her nephew and it’s obvious to me that they’re here for a visit. What a nice looking young man, the one speaking with Cadet Sheridan.

Phil Sheridan Jr. was not in contention for the high spot in Academy honors for which MacArthur and Grant vied since he was a year ahead of them. The manipulating mothers did worry about Jackson Lee who was always right up there with their sons in class standings so that he was the troubling dark horse.

Mrs. MacArthur fanned herself daintily while she studied the young man. My, he is a nice looking boy. Looks rather like Cadet MacKendrick, don’t you know.

Timothy and Adria do have a son about that age, Mrs. Grant shot a glance at Mrs. MacArthur as she freely used the given names of the aristocratic MacKendricks.

Do tell, Pinky MacArthur snapped the fan shut.

The group paused as the two mothers were sighted. Cadets Grant and MacArthur peeled off to attend to their duties. MacArthur was all polish as he introduced Adria MacKendrick and her son, Fitzjames, to his mother and Mrs. Grant. Adria, who would not have been intimidated by Queen Victoria, assumed her role as gracious Mrs. Lieutenant General Timothy MacKendrick without any visible effort at all; much to the amusement of Gwyneth who was something of a disappointment to the other mothers for her refusal to engage in their continuous game of one-upmanship. Adria would win it and not even know that she had been in a contest. After a polite chat, the visitors headed for their rooms to get settled while the cadets returned to barracks in order to get ready for dinner with their mothers and a hop afterward.

~~~

Mrs. MacArthur, ever the conniving Southern belle, beat Mrs. Grant to the finish line and secured the visitors as her guests for dinner. Fitz kept glancing at the door.

Fitzjames, stop fidgeting, Adria commanded as his wistful gaze went to the large double doors for the third time. Jack will get here when he gets here. Mrs. MacArthur asked you a question.

Fitz turned his attention to his hostess and endured her catechism of his age, interests, and year in school. He faltered when Jack and Douglas entered and his gray eyes went straight to his beloved cousin.

Mrs. MacArthur looked questioningly at Adria who smiled with exasperated affection at her offspring.

Gwyneth took over the conversational ball. You’ll have to forgive Fitz but he has some very exciting news to tell Jack. That’s one reason we came up today.

Pinky nodded understandingly. I know how a boy’s enthusiasms can carry him away. That is one reason I’m here at West Point to make certain that my Dougie concentrates on his studies.

It was a few minutes before Jack had paid sufficient attention to his manners to indulge his cousin. Fitz sounded like a demented steam engine, close to boiling over or exploding. Was there something in particular you wanted to tell me, Cousin? Jack asked casually with a wink at Gwyneth. I have a pretty good idea what has you in such a dither.

I got my appointment. I’ll be starting this summer, Fitz announced proudly.

Jack’s face was illuminated in his rare broad smile. That’s grand news. You’ve worked hard for it and I’m very proud of you.

MacArthur gave the youngster a careful scrutiny. You are coming here?

Yes, Sir, Fitz replied, apparently a little awed by the other cadet.

Why how wonderful, exclaimed Mrs. MacArthur. General MacKendrick must be very proud.

General MacKendrick is off in the wilds of the Kansas Prairie and doesn’t know as yet. Fitzjames couldn’t wait to tell him or Jack so we came up here for the weekend, Adria said dryly. Typical that Timothy isn’t here when I need him. Fitz is so happy. Unlike James, Timothy never received the Medal of Honor so Fitz wasn’t granted an automatic appointment as Jack was. Even with Timothy as his father, there was no guarantee that Fitzjames would be accepted to West Point. He worked so hard at school these last four years to earn this appointment. I can’t quash this by myself much as I want to. West Point turned my poor Randolph into a little tin soldier. I don’t want that to happen to Fitz. He’s my youngest and the most like Timothy. To risk losing him as I lost his brother, I’m not sure that I can bear it. Timothy knows I don’t like this. He should be here to convince Fitz to give up on the idea. With his grades Fitzjames could go to any University in the country. Harvard, Princeton like his brother Philip, I’d even be happy with William and Mary or the University of Virginia. I understand that you live here year round, Mrs. MacArthur.

Do call me Pinky, Mrs. MacArthur urged. And I shall call you Adria. Yes, I do live here. General MacArthur is still in the Philippines, don’t you know, and I just wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I couldn’t be near Dougie. He is often allowed to come to tea, especially now that he’s a Yearling, and he’ll have even more freedom next year as a Second Classman. I can even see his lamp at night.

Gwyneth got busy with her coffee cup while Douglas and Jack refrained from telltale looks at each other and concentrated on their desserts.

Adria glanced around the cheery dining room. That must be a great comfort to you. You aren’t really losing your son to the Army that way. Of course, I don’t know that I would be able to stay all of the time as you do; I have so many social commitments in New York.

Fitz stared at his mother in horror.

Adria’s brilliant gaze shifted to Fitz’s transparent face and she had to stifle a real belly laugh. Silly boy, I know what you’re thinking. I know you love me dearly but you have absolutely no desire to have me living here while you are trying to adjust to West Point. I know it will be difficult enough to live down your Father’s legacy without being labeled a Mama’s boy as well. As if I would ever embarrass you in such a fashion. If such an arrangement was good for a cadet, Gwyneth would have yielded to temptation months ago to be near Jack instead of maintaining her life in Washington. Adria smiled. Still, I would miss the concerts and the theater and Jack seems to be thriving on his own. I have confidence that Fitzjames can weather West Point on his own merit.

Mrs. MacArthur’s mouth pursed as if she realized that Adria MacKendrick had just taken a pot shot at her. It was so smoothly done, however, that there was nothing to which she could take offense.

~~~

Jack polished off his dessert. Would you like me to take you on a tour, Fitz?

Could we? Fitz jumped to his feet and caught the chair he almost upset in the process.

Fitzjames, Adria sighed.

Are you still knocking things over, Fitz? Jack snickered.

Only when he’s excited, teased Gwyneth.

He seems like quite a fellow, Fitz said as he and Jack headed over to Trophy Point where they had a good view of the grim, granite buildings that enclosed the cadet barracks.

Doug? Yes, some of the cadets believe that he is the embodiment of the ideal cadet, rather like Cousin Robert E. Lee was in his day. A few of the others believe he must have been arrogant from the age of eight. I’ll say this for him, to know MacArthur is to love him or to hate him. A person can’t just dismiss him.

What about you, Jack? Love or hate?

I have a great deal of respect for him, Fitz, and I like him. Whatever the instructors dish out he soaks up like a sponge. He is arrogant but he does have some call to be. He isn’t a prig, though, and can get into deviltry with the best of them. He’s just better at not getting caught. But what he went through last year, especially during Beast Barracks...God, I couldn’t have done it. My ordeal wasn’t too bad. I’m just the nephew of a war hero instead of his son. Besides, my own origins are rather obscured by the presence of Grant and MacArthur.

Your Father was a hero too, Jack. Daddy says he walked with giants, Fitz declared stoutly. Lamplight brought out golden highlights in his brown hair.

Giants in gray, Fitz, although, the Southern cadets agree he was special.

Jackson’s aide, Robert E. Lee’s aide, friends with Stuart, Cousin Fitz Lee; yes, Uncle James was special. Besides, he was a lieutenant in the 3rd Cavalry during the Indian Wars and proved his soldiering skills there, too. He gave his life to save his men and received the Medal of Honor for it. So I don’t understand why you believe you’re somehow lesser than someone like Cadet MacArthur.

Not lesser, Fitz, just not a target. It’s what I mentioned before about MacArthur having a rough time last year. Fitz, that isn’t half of what you’re going to go through. Uncle Timothy is even more famous than General MacArthur. The Yearlings will be out to wipe your face in it, probably a few of the upperclassmen as well. I’ll do what I can to make it easier on you.

Fitz gave Jack his uncomplicated grin. No you won’t.

What?

I can take it, Jack, I don’t need coddling.

Jack, sensitive to the younger boy’s mood, grasped his cousin’s arm. Fitz, please tell me that you will.

Fitz’s eyebrow slanted in the identical fashion of his father’s. Will what?

Will take the easy path and keep a low profile.

Did you?

I didn’t have to, for some reason they didn’t like baiting me although I can’t imagine why.

Fitz tilted his head and smiled at Jack; his clear eyes sparkling with affectionate humor. I can. Even the worst bully could probably see that you were too good for such childishness. There is a steadiness in you, Jack.

Good Lord, you make me sound like a very dull boy indeed.

Not dull, just solid and dependable. You’re the way I always imagined Cousin Robert E. Lee must have been when he was a cadet.

I’m worried about you.

Don’t be. As I see it, I have two choices. I can play the sniveling coward and hope they don’t notice me; which is pretty unlikely considering Daddy is the legendary ‘Mothy MacKendrick. Or I can pull out all stops, just be myself, and the ‘divil take the consequence’. I rather fancy following in Cousin Fitz Lee’s boots anyway.

He was nearly kicked out!

Oh, I won’t take it that far. I’ll work at my grades and I won’t deliberately court demerits or play practical jokes. I’m just not going to whimper my way through Beast Barracks and give anyone the satisfaction of beating me down.

I don’t like the sound of this. If you go in with a chip on your shoulder...

I’m not going to do that, Jack, when have I ever? I won’t brag about Daddy but I won’t disown him either. If someone asks me if he’s my father, I’ll simply answer that he is.

Maybe I should stick around this summer after all, following tradition, Jack was slated for a summer furlough that year. He planned to spend it with his Mother and his cousins, Philip and Margaret MacKendrick, on a tour of England and the Continent. Uncle Timothy might like to have someone around to pick up the pieces; if there are any left.

It’s just simple hazing.

Simple! Fitz, we’ve just been through a year of scandals because men have died. Poor Oscar Booz died of tubercular laryngitis a year and a half after he resigned and quite a few people believe that hazing caused the physical weakness that contributed to his death. It’s bad, Cousin, can’t you get it through your head? No matter how the authorities try to stop it, the cadets find ways to continue.

Fitz, who lacked something of Jack’s maturity and somewhat Olympian view of life, grinned. If the cadets, who have all been through the system, are so determined to perpetuate it there must be a reason.

Some hazing is essential to the Academy since a man’s spirit and abilities can be tested. It’s also a great leveler and serves to weed out the pampered aristocrats, mama’s boys, bullies, and whatnots. Believe me, when you’re being hazed you learn to obey orders which, I suppose, is the basic grounding for a soldier. Most of the cadets also believe it adds a prolonged initiation into the mystique of the Corps. Even though Congress keeps threatening to shut us down because of the hazing, its individual members are not above reinstating men who have been dismissed for doing it. I’m not worried about the mild stuff, Fitz. I’m concerned that they’ll go after you with the big guns.

Jack, the only way I can avoid it is to attend a different school or work for Brother Philip’s newspaper. Besides, I’ve known all along I’d get hazed unmercifully and not just because of Daddy. I have to follow in your splendid footsteps too.

Jack stared at him in horror. God, that never occurred to me.

Didn’t you see how MacArthur was watching me just now; weighing every blessed word I said? He wasn’t measuring me against Daddy. He was comparing me to you.

Maybe I’d better stay, Jack decided after a slight silence.

I don’t want you here. I have to face this on my own.

If you get into trouble while I’m not here...

I won’t, at least not deliberately. Don’t worry, Jack, I won’t disgrace you.

Disgrace me! Fitz, I’m not worried about that, Jack gave it up. There is no way to explain to my oblivious cousin that hazing is not just a comical series of practical jokes. It is a deadly business that the Booz scandal has done nothing to mitigate. Fitz, by virtue of being Timothy MacKendrick’s son, is really going to be up against it; probably even worse than MacArthur and he was brought to convulsions by one particularly vicious session. I’d better drop a few well-chosen hints to some of the men who will be here this summer. Sheridan will be a Firstie and will keep an eye on him for me. Oh, I won’t put Fitzjames off-limits; that would hurt him far worse than a few bruises. But it’s a good idea to have someone on alert just in case matters get out of hand during Beast Barracks. Maybe have Doug talk to him about his own hellacious experiences.

Jack nudged his cousin who gazed misty-eyed at some cannons. Come on, Fitz, let’s go on in. Since Mother is here, I’ve got a drag for the hop after all.

Don’t look so worried, Jack. Beast Barracks holds no terror for me!

Chapter 2

West Point, June 1901

Beast Barracks is a damned good word for it, Fitzjames reflected ruefully as he sweltered under the canvas of his tent. It was one of many which dotted Clinton Field across the parade ground from Trophy Point. He had learned rapidly just how inventive the new Yearlings could be. As Jack had feared, Fitz’s connection to one of the most illustrious figures in the Army had made him the primary target for those who had just finished their own Plebe term.

On his very first day, Fitz was cornered by a group of Third Classmen before he even had time to look around the tent that would be his first home at West Point. This initial session had not involved any physical abuse. Instead, the Yearlings had ordered him to recite the full record of Timothy’s career. They corrected him when he mistook a date or jeered when he left out an event. Since recitation was still at the heart of most of West Point’s instruction, the Yearlings insisted that Fitz acquire the skills that would make him letter perfect in all future academic endeavors. So, they made him recite Timothy’s record again. And again. And again. Until Fitzjames’ tongue stumbled over the simplest of words and his head ached with fatigue. The boy sharing the tent with Fitz ungallantly hoped that MacKendrick’s presence would draw fire away from him for no one had prepared him for the horrors of Beast Barracks. This stalwart, in fact, lasted only three days before he opted for resignation and the less demanding regimen of ROTC at Michigan State. The defection of his tent mate was a serious disadvantage for it meant that Fitzjames had no one to share the housekeeping chores which increased daily due to the tender attentions of the Third Classmen. Molasses or honey would appear in puddles on the ground during the night. Blankets would be soaked and tied in numerous knots. Possessions would be strewn from one end of the tent to the other. Fitz got up an hour before Reveille just to have time to square his quarters before inspection.

Summer camp was a long business of drill, rudimentary field problems, hiking with packs, guard duty, and target practice on the range. That part was easy and Fitzjames thrived on it. He demonstrated a flair for tactics which attracted the notice of more than one instructor. His determination to be at West Point did not fail him and he remained cheerful and enthusiastic; even as the first week petered out and the Yearlings shifted their attention to physical tortures of his person. Fitz had been forced to run a gauntlet of Third Classmen while they threw cold water on him. Bracing and dipping became standard fare for him until his muscles ached and he dreaded hearing a voice behind him telling him to drop and execute ten. Often during the dipping, or push-ups, he was required to put his hands on a box so that his back was arrow straight and he raised his body by his arms alone.

Unbeknownst to the boy, several First Classmen, including Phil Sheridan, kept an eye on things as a favor to Jack. Things were not good for Fitzjames but neither had the situation reached a point where the Firsties believed that intervention was justified. MacKendrick did not cry quarter or seek help and, unless Fitz seemed to be near breaking, the older cadets believed it was better to leave well enough alone. As the dreary days progressed, even Fitzjames’ bright spirit began to dim slightly. Alone in his tent, his body stiff and bruised, he cried himself to sleep more than once. It was terribly hard to be the butt of an entire class when he had always gotten along so splendidly with his peers. The only thing that kept him going was the knowledge that no hell lasts forever and the instinctive surety that if he survived this he could live through anything. Fitzjames refused to break and tried to bend instead; striving to maintain his pleasure at just being at West Point while he mentally counted each day survived as a personal victory.

This particular night, which marked the middle of his third week in Satan’s little corner of New York, Fitz was given the onerous task of cleaning five pairs of boots that were slimy from having been tossed into the manure pile. As hazing went, this exercise was not too bad and Fitz, with a horseman’s tolerant nose, attended to his duty with the attention to detail which would one day mark him as an exceptional officer. He had just finished his third pair of boots when three Yearlings strolled in. Taps had not yet sounded and it was the time of the evening when the deviltry began.

Phew, what a stench, been out picking buffalo chips, Beast?

No, Sir, Fitz answered and was at attention before they could even order him to stand.

Billings, Schwartz, and Dalrymple were three of his milder tormenters; content usually with verbal hazing or the less rigorous physical demands. Cadet Billings had a healthy respect for Jackson Lee and was becoming genuinely fond of Fitzjames; whose agility and speed at snapping to attention from whatever position he happened to be in was a marvel to behold. The boy’s determined optimism in the face of whatever the Third Class dished out had earned him some praise from that quarter.

In what year and where did Lieutenant General MacKendrick join General Philip Sheridan? demanded Cadet Dalrymple.

Sir, 1862 at Louisville, Sir, Fitz responded promptly.

Cadet Schwartz, a beefy young man from Wisconsin, scratched at his jaw. "What was the first action they saw together?

Sir, the Battle of Perryville, Sir.

Cadet Billings switched to a West Point classic. What is the definition of leather, Beast?

Sir, if the fresh skin of an animal, cleaned and divested of all hair, fat, and other extraneous matter, be immersed in a dilute solution of tannic acid, a chemical combination ensues; the gelatinous tissue of the skin is converted into a nonputresible substance, impervious to and insoluble in water; this is the definition of leather, Sir.

How is the cow? Cadet Schwartz went for another classic; while he tried to ignore the fact that MacKendrick had not flubbed a syllable of the definition that he himself had never been able to manage on a single attempt.

Sir, she walks, she talks, she's full of chalk, the lacteal fluid extracted from the female of the bovine species is highly prolific to the nth degree, Sir.

"Does the little Beast look tired,