I was dead tired, but needed to be in town when Captain Mosby arrived. I asked for another shot of hot coffee and the use of Hattie’s horse. She poured me a tin of coffee and said, “Ya know where the hoss is kept.”
I burned my tongue and scalded my throat chugging down the hot coffee. Then I went to get the horse. Hattie yelled as I went through the door, “Watch out for the town council if they try to get you to do any marshaling.”
I thought this woman must be a sorceress or mind reader. She seemed to be one step ahead of all the events that were happening to me.
I saddled the horse and went to town. I arrived at the bottom of German Street just as the Confederate cavalry trotted into town. Captain Mosby caught a glimpse of me and headed his troop of 16 men toward where I had just tied up my horse in front of the bank.
He halted his men, looked at me and declared, “What have you been into now?”
I laughed congenially and stated, “Whatever it has been, it wasn’t of my doing. All we did was respond to what has occurred.”
“Well, you better tell me what has happened,” he declared.
I rejoined, “Okay, but can you take some prisoners off our hands and take charge of some Yank bodies first?”
This brought an epithet, “My Lord, Jim! What have you been up to?”
“It has been one thing after the other around these parts in the last three weeks. I repeat: can you take care of the residual consequences of our episodes?”
With a concerned look on his face, he replied, “Yes! Of course.” He turned to his sergeant and told him to follow my instructions.
By this time Mr. Throckmorton had come out of the bank. I asked if he could tell the sergeant where to find the Yank prisoners and bodies, and then join the captain and me for a debriefing. This verbiage brought raised eyebrows from both the captain and Mr. Throckmorton.
Mr. Throckmorton hastily began to inform the NCO where he could find the refuse of the town’s last three weeks of fighting.
The captain and I marched into Mr. Throckmorton’s office to await his return.