Chapter 1

Man, was he fast! Cletus Tucker could out draw and out shoot any man he ever saw. He could get off 5 aimed shots with his Schofield revolver, be reloaded, and ready to fire again before most men could just get off the 5 aimed shots.

He preferred the Smith and Wesson Schofield .45 caliber revolver because it could be shot and reloaded with only one hand. The Colt was much slower to reload and required both hands. So what if the .45 Colt was more powerful; nobody could tell the difference at 25 yards. Cletus never expected to shoot at anything beyond that range with his pistol. If he was being shot at beyond that range and he only had a pistol, he planned to run and dodge like Hell! Only a fool expected to hit his target with a pistol beyond that range.

Cletus had gotten his start with guns during the war. Though he had managed to escape slavery at an early age by swimming the Ohio River, he never cared much one way or the other about the subject. A young Negro in southern Ohio had more on his mind than whether other Negroes were slaves or free.

For one thing, he had to eat. Work was not easy to find and it never paid enough to put anything aside, so he was always on the edge of starvation. But, then, he had always been on the edge of starvation as a slave, so he didn't see much difference, there. Always, his main concern was getting enough to eat!

Then the war broke out and he heard that he could join the US Army. They were forming special Negro units, and, in Cletus' opinion, the major good point was that a soldier ate regularly. Also, a soldier was given a gun and taught to use it. With a gun, he could get back at some of those people who were always pushing him around.

Cletus was very proud of the fact that he could write his name, so he went to the recruiting office and signed up, writing his own name and not just using a big X. The sergeant Cletus talked to told him where and when to meet the train that would take him to the training camp. Cletus showed up at the right place and the right time. The corporal who booted his ass as he was climbing into the boxcar with 29 other Negroes was not even insulting about it; he was just doing his job. That was the extent of the politeness Cletus encountered the whole time he was in the army.

Cletus spent a very boring, but testing, time in training camp. He learned to salute, to march, to salute, to clean his equipment, to salute, to load and fire a musket, and to salute. It seemed like every White man he met he had to salute and about half the Negroes. He was told that he would not have to salute so much once he got out of training camp; it was just practice.

There were only two parts of training camp that Cletus took to: eating and shooting. The food was all right, not much taste, but plenty of it. Cletus couldn't complain about the food, it was better than he had as a civilian. The shooting was really educational. He found out that the musket he was issued wasn't worth shit when it came to accuracy. The idea was for everybody to shoot at the same time and hope that some of the balls went where the officer or sergeant wanted them to go. Once, Cletus saw some White troops shooting Spencer rifles; Cletus decided he wanted one of those rifles, but he knew that he would never get one. Cletus' anger was mollified when he heard a rumor that they would be issued a Minie rifle when they graduated from basic training.

At last! Basic training was over! The last day, all they did was march around in the driving rain on parade. The troops were miserable, but the officers didn't care—they were all under a shelter, so the rain didn't get to them. After the parade, the troops talked about where they would be assigned. Cletus really didn't care where he went, as long as he was fed regularly.

He wound up in Company F, 8th U.S. Colored Troops, and, yes, he was issued a Minie rifle. Cletus tried not to get noticed, but it was bound to happen. He learned to be a crack shot with the Minie rifle. He was so good with it, he was noticed by the company CO. Cletus was ordered to be one of the CO's regular guards. Next thing he knew, Cletus wound up a sergeant and had to wear a special uniform, since the CO wanted his guard to stand out and look very military. Part of this special uniform was a pistol.

The problem was, about all Cletus knew about a pistol was which end the ball came out. That was fine with the army; he didn't have to unlearn anything before he learned the army way. He was issued an M1860 "Army Brass" cap and ball pistol and taught how to maintain it and how to shoot it. This pistol was a monster: it weighed 21⁄2 lbs. and was 131⁄2 inches long. The standard army shooting technique taught at the time was the dueller's stance where you held the gun out to the side at arm's length and aimed down the barrel.

Cletus got to be very good with this stance and scored very high during training, but he really preferred to hold the pistol in front of himself and point it like he was pointing his finger. In this "natural" stance, Cletus rarely missed. He liked the army's cross draw holster location pretty well, but he really preferred to have it carried more near his belly button. He liked to fold the holster flap back out of the way and see how fast he could draw and fire. He got great pleasure from this practice and used to do it whenever he could get free from regular duty. He even got so good at it that he used to make money for his CO by winning "quick draw" bets. All in all, this was Cletus' happiest time in the army.

After what Cletus thought was a ridiculous length of time, they were finally sent into "combat." This "combat" consisted of guarding the logistics depot. Cletus saw no particular reason for guarding an office containing half a dozen file clerks with a whole platoon of combat-ready troops. The rebels were across the river and that was where the fighting was taking place. He later found out that all of the "colored" troops were stuck in jobs like this because the White generals didn't think that Negroes could or would fight.

Things went on this boring way for weeks. Cletus decided to break the boredom by learning to read and write. He found a teacher among the troops and for a few cents a lesson, was taught all that his remarkably able teacher could pass on. The lessons, all together, cost Cletus nearly $40, but he had nothing else to do, so Cletus thought it was worth the money. He didn't know what he would do with all this education, but it did eliminate the boredom.

Then, one fateful day, it happened! His unit was guarding the file clerks while the big battle was going on a few miles away. Suddenly there was a burst of rifle fire to the south. Cletus ordered his squad to stand ready to fight. Out of the bushes to the east poured a swarm of rebels. What they were doing there and how they got there were questions to be resolved later. Right now it was a case of fight or die.

The Negro troops had been told that they could expect no mercy from the rebels. The rebels took no Negro prisoners. Cletus quickly got his men into line and ordered volley fire. The first row fired and stepped behind the second row to reload. The second row fired and the first row returned to the front. The first row fired and retired to reload. This kept on for eight volleys.

By then the remnant of the rebel troops were fleeing as fast as they could run. Cletus ordered his men to stand fast and not chase the rebels; there was no telling what they might run into. Cletus' tactic of having his men stand and fight had been brilliant. The rebels could not run and reload their muzzle loaders at the same time. By being able to reload quickly, Cletus' squad was able to stand off many times their number.

Cletus detailed four men to check on the downed rebels. A few still lived and these were helped into the shade until medical help could come. None of Cletus' men had more than superficial scratches; the rebels had been able to get off only one shot and that at extreme range. All of the rebels' weapons were gathered and stacked safely out of the way and Cletus' troops relaxed. Cletus had sent a man to get medical aid for the wounded rebels, but it seemed forever before help arrived.

A few hours later, nearly supper time, the CO of Cletus' company arrived He congratulated everybody on their performance and praised their bravery. He said that he hoped that this action would make the higher-ups see how effective Negro troops could be with proper leadership (meaning himself, not Cletus). Not long after, Cletus' men were allowed to eat supper.

Cletus thought that one attack could be a fluke, but he didn't want to take a chance. He asked permission to erect breastworks and was told to go ahead. By being next to the logistics headquarters, he was able to finagle all the tools he needed to cut down some trees and arrange them so that his men would have some protection in case of another attack. The next three days were spent in building the breastworks and, no sooner had they finished, but they were ordered to a new location. Well, that's the Army. What can you do? Cletus took this philosophically, but he kept the tools.