They Met at Shiloh (39 page)

It was a few minutes before Robert realized that Huebner was standing next to him in silence. Robert nodded at him.

“I miss Gus, too,” Huebner said.

“Ja, me, too.”

“Robert?” Huebner put his hand on Robert’s shoulder.

Robert turned and looked into the eyes of an adult, set softly in sallow sockets, showing depth of insight and personality. “Ja, Hube?”

“Danke, Robert, für Sein mein Freund, meine Kamerad.”

Robert stared at his companion, dumbstruck. He was being thanked for something that he could barely call himself, friend and comrade? A few days before, he would consider himself a long-suffering acquaintance, not a friend.

“Ja, ich bin dein Freund, Hube.” Robert let that hang in the air without reply from Huebner. The shadows grew long upon the field, and the light turned a cyan hue. Birds tittered among the leafless tree branches and fluttered about, jostling for position.

Earlier, he and Huebner, along with a few others, said goodbye to Hilde, Gus, and Piper, standing beside the freshly dug graves by the landing. When they first signed up to fight, the war had seemed an adventure. That fantasy, like Huebner’s innocence, was gone. No longer playing soldier but becoming one had altered Robert’s view of himself. He had run for his life and, but for Huebner, would have stayed at the landing. His view of himself as a responsible soldier for the Union had also been left upon the field of battle. He couldn’t bring himself to call his actions cowardly. Certainly, no one else would. Neither could he call himself heroic.

As the rays of the sun sunk below the western horizon, Robert bade farewell to his self-misconceptions. He was neither a hero nor a skulker. He was but an average man put through horrific experiences.

Sitting now before the fire, Robert watched the dance of the flames and listened to the fire talk. Robert loved these tired and sometimes vulgar men. He was thankful for those around him and those he had lost, for they made him the soldier he was. He would stand with these men should the long roll sound and call them to arms again. He met the enemy in the field at daybreak and stood beside his friends to receive their fire. He feared and fought and carried the grief of loss.

He wasn’t the soldier he once thought he wanted to be. He was the soldier Shiloh made him to be. They met at Shiloh, and Shiloh made them comrades.

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