Available at Amazon. amazon.com/author/melee
On December 13, 1864, General William T. Sherman’s superior
Union forces overran Fort McAllister, the southernmost fortification in defense
of the city of Savannah Georgia. The battle lasted only about 15 minutes. The
Fort is now a State Historic Park.
Dr. Kerry Leeward and his team of archaeologists who specialize in battlefield excavations are working under a three-month grant to 'dig' in certain sites at the park.
One day, while using a metal detector, Dr. Leeward discovered a metal object buried in the ground. He planted small flags around the object to note its location, then he pulled out his cellphone and called the rest of his team to join him.
While waiting, he decided to sit at the foot of a nearby wall and have a drink from his water bottle. As he laid his head back against the wall, a stone dislodged and fell beside him. As he turned, he noticed a cavity that had been exposed where the stone was dislodged. After a few minutes, he'd removed the remaining loose stones, and he shined his penlight into the cavity. What he found was about to turn Kerry Leeward and his team’s world upside-down and stretch the very fabric of time itself.
Dr. Kerry Leeward and his team of archaeologists who specialize in battlefield excavations are working under a three-month grant to 'dig' in certain sites at the park.
One day, while using a metal detector, Dr. Leeward discovered a metal object buried in the ground. He planted small flags around the object to note its location, then he pulled out his cellphone and called the rest of his team to join him.
While waiting, he decided to sit at the foot of a nearby wall and have a drink from his water bottle. As he laid his head back against the wall, a stone dislodged and fell beside him. As he turned, he noticed a cavity that had been exposed where the stone was dislodged. After a few minutes, he'd removed the remaining loose stones, and he shined his penlight into the cavity. What he found was about to turn Kerry Leeward and his team’s world upside-down and stretch the very fabric of time itself.
Prologue
“Captain Halpin, can I come up and speak to you for a minute?”
The captain looked down from his position atop the gun emplacement to find Sergeant Wells looking up at him, very excited. “What is it, Wells?”
“I have something to show you, sir.”
“In a moment,” Halpin shouted down to the sergeant and turned to the gunnery officer. “I have a feeling we'll be attacked in earnest this evening. Make certain that all cannon have ample powder, ball and canister; also be certain that each man in the battery is armed with two muskets and plenty of shot and powder. I fear we will fight this day to the man.”
“Yes sir,” replied the lieutenant.
Captain Halpin dismounted the gun emplacement. “What is it, Sergeant Wells?” asked the captain, obviously irritated, but before the sergeant could answer, the captain asked, “Have your men finished inspecting the abatis and torpedo placements?”
“Yes sir, a good breeze could not breach our perimeter.”
“I fear we'll be facing a hurricane this day,” said the captain thoughtfully. “What do you need, Sergeant?”
“Sir, one of my men found this on the outer perimeter. I never seen anything like it before.” The Sergeant held out his hand and opened his fingers to reveal a very unusual object. “Do you know what it is, sir?”
Halpin, using two fingers, removed the object from the sergeant’s hand. “It appears to be a timepiece; however, I have not seen a timepiece such as this.” The captain turned it over and looked at both sides. He held the object to his ear for a few seconds, then shook it and listened again. He lowered the piece, hefted it in the palm of his hand and looked at the face. “See here, Sergeant,” Halpin said, pointing at the face of the object. “The hands are stopped at 2:38.”
“Sanders, he’s the preacher,” Wells said in an attempt to authenticate Sander’s claim, “he says the devil put it where we could find it to confound us.”
“It truly is confounding, but I doubt the devil has a part in this.” The captain looked down at the object once again and closed his hand around the curious piece. “Let me keep this until I am able to show it to the major.”
“You can keep it, sir. I got ill feelings about that thing,” Sergeant Wells said, nodding to the captain’s closed hand. “I’m a-feared it'll cause terrible things to happen, at least that’s what the preacher says.”
“I don't believe that, Sergeant, and I don't want to get the men riled up, so say nothing of this to anyone. And instruct Sanders to do the same.”
Sergeant Wells saluted. Captain Halpin returned the salute and placed the curious object into his blouse pocket. A few minutes later, Captain Halpin was knocking on the door at Major Anderson’s quarters.
“Who's there?” asked a voice on the other side of the door. “Captain Halpin, sir, may I have a moment?”
“Come.” The captain opened the door to find Major Anderson, the commander of the McAllister Garrison leaning over a map laid out on a makeshift table.
“Come here,” the major motioned with one hand while continuing to look at the map. “Look at this, Captain. According to the latest report from our man in Savannah, Sherman is massing a large number of his men for a major assault in an effort to overtake our garrison. He says we can expect the attack to come soon, and he says the largest body of men will attack here,” the major said, pointing at strategic areas on the map, “and here. Do we appear ready?”
“Yes sir, at least as ready as we can be. I've checked all the batteries and instructed the men to lay in extra powder, ball and canister as well as an extra musket with powder and shot for each man. All of the perimeter defenses are ready as well.”
“Good, good …. very good,” said the major, pulling at his chin whiskers as he looked at the map. Looking up at Captain Halpin, Major Anderson proclaimed thoughtfully, “I do not believe our chances of surviving the night are very good, Captain.”
“I know, sir, but we have good and seasoned men, and I know they'll do their best.”
“Yes,” said the major nodding, “I believe you're right. Now what did you want to see me about?”
Captain Halpin stood staring at the map, lost in thought for a moment, then looked at the major. “What was that, sir?”
“You wanted to speak to me,” prompted the major.
“Oh, yes sir,” Captain Halpin said, suddenly remembering. He reached into his pocket and removed the strange object Sergeant Wells had given him and laid it on the map. “One of Sergeant Wells’ men found this while checking the outer perimeter,” the captain explained. “It's obviously a timepiece of some sort, but I confess I have never seen anything like it in my life. The hands are frozen at 2:38.”
The major held the object to his ear as if to test the captain’s statement. “The two leather straps with a buckle on one end must have some purpose, but I must say that purpose eludes me. If it is, indeed, a pocket timepiece, why is there no chain or fob?”
The major began to examine the piece. “See here, Captain, there is something written on the face. My eyes will not see it well enough to read the word. See if you can read it,” the major said, thrusting the object toward the captain.
Captain Halpin took it, looked at the face for a moment, then proclaimed, ”It says,” and he spelled out the word, “‘C A R T I E R’.”
“I have never heard this word before; it appears that someone was trying to spell Carter and misspelled it,” said the major. “That must be the name of the owner.”
Before either man could speculate further, they heard a knock on the door. “Come,” Major Anderson answered.
The door swung open and a young man, a boy really, stood in the doorway and saluted. “Major Anderson, sir, Sergeant Meadows, Sergeant of the Guard, received a report from the outer perimeter guard that the Yankees is ‘bout a mile off ... a bunch of ‘em!”
“Calm down, Corporal. It won’t help to get riled up.”
“Yes sir.” Major Anderson turned to Captain Halpin, “Captain, make ready the garrison. Remind all battery officers not to use canister until the enemy has crossed the first perimeter.”
“Yes sir,” replied the captain with a hurried salute. The corporal turned to follow Captain Halpin out the door.
“Wait a minute, Corporal,” the major called after the boy, “I have something else for you to do.”
The corporal turned and stood at attention.
“At ease, and take a seat,” the major said, gesturing to a chair. The major quickly sat at his small desk and removed a sheet of paper and pen. He dipped the nib of the pen into a small bottle of ink and began writing:
General GT Beauregard, Army of the Mississippi, Commanding
13 December 1864
Sir,
General Sherman’s Union forces are massing a mile from my outer perimeter. According to reports from our people in Savannah, he has committed over 3,000 men to the capture of this garrison. I fear this letter will reach you too late for you to respond in kind to this threat. My men and I will hold out as long as possible, but we haven’t the numbers or the ammunition to resist long. I am sending a box containing a very unusual item. I would not take the time to do this if I did not feel the origin and creator of this item to be vitally important to our great cause. Please share this with your mechianicians, and please pray strong for our success.
Your obedient servant,
George A. Anderson, Major -- McAllister Garrison, Commanding
The major blotted the ink dry, folded the sheet and retrieved a small box from a desk drawer. He opened the box, then removed a small pistol and replaced it with the item in his pocket. He then placed the box along with the letter into a leather courier’s pouch, affixed a small brass lock and beckoned the corporal. “You have run for me before, and this should not be much different. It is vitally important that General Beauregard receive this,” he gestured, handing the corporal the pouch. “The enemy is coming by land, so go to the river and use the row boat to take you to Savannah. Once there, find our friend and have him take you to General Beauregard.”
“Yes, sir.”
"And son,” he said, feeling momentarily paternal toward the boy, “do not attempt to return. Someone on the general’s staff will reassign you.”
“Yes sir,” replied the corporal, the harsh reality suddenly becoming clear that this man he had served for over two years would likely not live through the night. The corporal moved more slowly now, then as he reached the door, he broke into a run.
The major stared after the boy after he had left, then walked to the hat rack behind the desk, took down his pistol belt and sword, and he strapped them on.
The corporal moved silently past the outer perimeter, knowing how to avoid the defenses. He shortly came upon a stone wall that was ravaged by cannon ball, and he froze. He could hear a rustling in the brush somewhere in front of him. Then he saw them ... four or five Yankees. They had found the boat. One said ... "No Rebs is gonna use this boat to git away tonight.” Then he and the others, using the bayonets mounted on their rifles, began punching holes into the small boat.
The corporal’s heart sank at the sight as he crouched on the ground by the wall. Now what was he to do? His only escape had been rendered useless. He laid his head back, and as he did, he noticed a large cavern knocked out of the wall behind him. He thought quickly. He would secure the pouch here until it was clear, and he could return for it. He placed the pouch into the opening and, as quietly as he could, began remounting the stones into the wall, concealing the pouch and its contents. Moving away from the wall, his foot found a dried twig which made a loud ‘snap’ as he placed his weight on it.
“Hey, you there ... stop!” shouted one of the Yankees.
Thinking he might outrun them, he quickly moved away from the wall. Suddenly he heard a sharp 'crack' and felt a blow to the back of his head, the last thing he would ever feel for a round from the Yankee’s Sharp’s rifle had found its mark. He dropped lifeless to the ground.
The man who shot the corporal and the others stared down at the boy. “This is gonna be easy," said their leader, "the Rebs are already runnin' like rats!”
“Captain Halpin, can I come up and speak to you for a minute?”
The captain looked down from his position atop the gun emplacement to find Sergeant Wells looking up at him, very excited. “What is it, Wells?”
“I have something to show you, sir.”
“In a moment,” Halpin shouted down to the sergeant and turned to the gunnery officer. “I have a feeling we'll be attacked in earnest this evening. Make certain that all cannon have ample powder, ball and canister; also be certain that each man in the battery is armed with two muskets and plenty of shot and powder. I fear we will fight this day to the man.”
“Yes sir,” replied the lieutenant.
Captain Halpin dismounted the gun emplacement. “What is it, Sergeant Wells?” asked the captain, obviously irritated, but before the sergeant could answer, the captain asked, “Have your men finished inspecting the abatis and torpedo placements?”
“Yes sir, a good breeze could not breach our perimeter.”
“I fear we'll be facing a hurricane this day,” said the captain thoughtfully. “What do you need, Sergeant?”
“Sir, one of my men found this on the outer perimeter. I never seen anything like it before.” The Sergeant held out his hand and opened his fingers to reveal a very unusual object. “Do you know what it is, sir?”
Halpin, using two fingers, removed the object from the sergeant’s hand. “It appears to be a timepiece; however, I have not seen a timepiece such as this.” The captain turned it over and looked at both sides. He held the object to his ear for a few seconds, then shook it and listened again. He lowered the piece, hefted it in the palm of his hand and looked at the face. “See here, Sergeant,” Halpin said, pointing at the face of the object. “The hands are stopped at 2:38.”
“Sanders, he’s the preacher,” Wells said in an attempt to authenticate Sander’s claim, “he says the devil put it where we could find it to confound us.”
“It truly is confounding, but I doubt the devil has a part in this.” The captain looked down at the object once again and closed his hand around the curious piece. “Let me keep this until I am able to show it to the major.”
“You can keep it, sir. I got ill feelings about that thing,” Sergeant Wells said, nodding to the captain’s closed hand. “I’m a-feared it'll cause terrible things to happen, at least that’s what the preacher says.”
“I don't believe that, Sergeant, and I don't want to get the men riled up, so say nothing of this to anyone. And instruct Sanders to do the same.”
Sergeant Wells saluted. Captain Halpin returned the salute and placed the curious object into his blouse pocket. A few minutes later, Captain Halpin was knocking on the door at Major Anderson’s quarters.
“Who's there?” asked a voice on the other side of the door. “Captain Halpin, sir, may I have a moment?”
“Come.” The captain opened the door to find Major Anderson, the commander of the McAllister Garrison leaning over a map laid out on a makeshift table.
“Come here,” the major motioned with one hand while continuing to look at the map. “Look at this, Captain. According to the latest report from our man in Savannah, Sherman is massing a large number of his men for a major assault in an effort to overtake our garrison. He says we can expect the attack to come soon, and he says the largest body of men will attack here,” the major said, pointing at strategic areas on the map, “and here. Do we appear ready?”
“Yes sir, at least as ready as we can be. I've checked all the batteries and instructed the men to lay in extra powder, ball and canister as well as an extra musket with powder and shot for each man. All of the perimeter defenses are ready as well.”
“Good, good …. very good,” said the major, pulling at his chin whiskers as he looked at the map. Looking up at Captain Halpin, Major Anderson proclaimed thoughtfully, “I do not believe our chances of surviving the night are very good, Captain.”
“I know, sir, but we have good and seasoned men, and I know they'll do their best.”
“Yes,” said the major nodding, “I believe you're right. Now what did you want to see me about?”
Captain Halpin stood staring at the map, lost in thought for a moment, then looked at the major. “What was that, sir?”
“You wanted to speak to me,” prompted the major.
“Oh, yes sir,” Captain Halpin said, suddenly remembering. He reached into his pocket and removed the strange object Sergeant Wells had given him and laid it on the map. “One of Sergeant Wells’ men found this while checking the outer perimeter,” the captain explained. “It's obviously a timepiece of some sort, but I confess I have never seen anything like it in my life. The hands are frozen at 2:38.”
The major held the object to his ear as if to test the captain’s statement. “The two leather straps with a buckle on one end must have some purpose, but I must say that purpose eludes me. If it is, indeed, a pocket timepiece, why is there no chain or fob?”
The major began to examine the piece. “See here, Captain, there is something written on the face. My eyes will not see it well enough to read the word. See if you can read it,” the major said, thrusting the object toward the captain.
Captain Halpin took it, looked at the face for a moment, then proclaimed, ”It says,” and he spelled out the word, “‘C A R T I E R’.”
“I have never heard this word before; it appears that someone was trying to spell Carter and misspelled it,” said the major. “That must be the name of the owner.”
Before either man could speculate further, they heard a knock on the door. “Come,” Major Anderson answered.
The door swung open and a young man, a boy really, stood in the doorway and saluted. “Major Anderson, sir, Sergeant Meadows, Sergeant of the Guard, received a report from the outer perimeter guard that the Yankees is ‘bout a mile off ... a bunch of ‘em!”
“Calm down, Corporal. It won’t help to get riled up.”
“Yes sir.” Major Anderson turned to Captain Halpin, “Captain, make ready the garrison. Remind all battery officers not to use canister until the enemy has crossed the first perimeter.”
“Yes sir,” replied the captain with a hurried salute. The corporal turned to follow Captain Halpin out the door.
“Wait a minute, Corporal,” the major called after the boy, “I have something else for you to do.”
The corporal turned and stood at attention.
“At ease, and take a seat,” the major said, gesturing to a chair. The major quickly sat at his small desk and removed a sheet of paper and pen. He dipped the nib of the pen into a small bottle of ink and began writing:
General GT Beauregard, Army of the Mississippi, Commanding
13 December 1864
Sir,
General Sherman’s Union forces are massing a mile from my outer perimeter. According to reports from our people in Savannah, he has committed over 3,000 men to the capture of this garrison. I fear this letter will reach you too late for you to respond in kind to this threat. My men and I will hold out as long as possible, but we haven’t the numbers or the ammunition to resist long. I am sending a box containing a very unusual item. I would not take the time to do this if I did not feel the origin and creator of this item to be vitally important to our great cause. Please share this with your mechianicians, and please pray strong for our success.
Your obedient servant,
George A. Anderson, Major -- McAllister Garrison, Commanding
The major blotted the ink dry, folded the sheet and retrieved a small box from a desk drawer. He opened the box, then removed a small pistol and replaced it with the item in his pocket. He then placed the box along with the letter into a leather courier’s pouch, affixed a small brass lock and beckoned the corporal. “You have run for me before, and this should not be much different. It is vitally important that General Beauregard receive this,” he gestured, handing the corporal the pouch. “The enemy is coming by land, so go to the river and use the row boat to take you to Savannah. Once there, find our friend and have him take you to General Beauregard.”
“Yes, sir.”
"And son,” he said, feeling momentarily paternal toward the boy, “do not attempt to return. Someone on the general’s staff will reassign you.”
“Yes sir,” replied the corporal, the harsh reality suddenly becoming clear that this man he had served for over two years would likely not live through the night. The corporal moved more slowly now, then as he reached the door, he broke into a run.
The major stared after the boy after he had left, then walked to the hat rack behind the desk, took down his pistol belt and sword, and he strapped them on.
The corporal moved silently past the outer perimeter, knowing how to avoid the defenses. He shortly came upon a stone wall that was ravaged by cannon ball, and he froze. He could hear a rustling in the brush somewhere in front of him. Then he saw them ... four or five Yankees. They had found the boat. One said ... "No Rebs is gonna use this boat to git away tonight.” Then he and the others, using the bayonets mounted on their rifles, began punching holes into the small boat.
The corporal’s heart sank at the sight as he crouched on the ground by the wall. Now what was he to do? His only escape had been rendered useless. He laid his head back, and as he did, he noticed a large cavern knocked out of the wall behind him. He thought quickly. He would secure the pouch here until it was clear, and he could return for it. He placed the pouch into the opening and, as quietly as he could, began remounting the stones into the wall, concealing the pouch and its contents. Moving away from the wall, his foot found a dried twig which made a loud ‘snap’ as he placed his weight on it.
“Hey, you there ... stop!” shouted one of the Yankees.
Thinking he might outrun them, he quickly moved away from the wall. Suddenly he heard a sharp 'crack' and felt a blow to the back of his head, the last thing he would ever feel for a round from the Yankee’s Sharp’s rifle had found its mark. He dropped lifeless to the ground.
The man who shot the corporal and the others stared down at the boy. “This is gonna be easy," said their leader, "the Rebs are already runnin' like rats!”