The Liberty Legion
by
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In the six days following the fall of Fort Sumter, President Lincoln had called on volunteers to put down the rebellion and to defend Washington City. Among those heeding the call were the green troops of the 6th Massachusetts Infantry regiment. Their railroad journey to the capital took them through New York, then Philadelphia. Their next stop was Baltimore, where Northern soldiers were openly despised.
The raw boys from Boston numbered about one thousand, filling ten railcars. Since Baltimore offered no direct rail link between Philadelphia and Washington, the cars had to be derailed at one station and pulled by teams of horses along the streetcar line to the other. The streetcar line was on
People came from houses, shops, buildings, side streets, and alleys, and they came from all directions. “Come on!” a man cried, hurrying out of a tavern. Dozens more followed close behind. “Let’s show them Yankee sons of bitches what we think of their kind around here!”
A loud “Hurrah!” echoed through the city.
Soon Pratt Street was choked with humanity as people lined either side to watch this procession. The reluctant horses plowed forward as the tension increased with each passing car. Seven had gone by, and the eighth was about to turn onto Pratt. The sidewalks were filled beyond capacity, and the swelling crowd spilled into the street. Onto the rail line. Blocking the path of the approaching car.
The crowd noise dwindled. The faint clip-clop of horse hooves could be heard in the distance, and people jostled for position on the street. The street was suddenly calm. All eyes watched the car as it rounded the corner onto Pratt. The car moved slowly, as if part of a funeral procession.
When the railcar came into the crowd’s full view, the din of hatred resumed. The horses balked at the sight of hundreds of angry people blocking their path and refused to move. The ninth and tenth cars behind the eighth were halted as well. The last three hundred men of the 6th Massachusetts were now stranded on Pratt Street, with an irate mob between them and the train station.
The vile curses echoed through
The ranking officer ordered the troops to load their muskets and file into the street. The soldiers’ only chance was to leave the stopped railcars and try for the station on foot. To get there, they would have to march directly through the incensed mob.
Unlike the warm receptions they received in New York and Philadelphia, the soldiers were met with curses, shoves, rocks, and spit as they stepped out into Baltimore. They were ordered to form a line of march and proceed at the quickstep, and they used their muskets to push their way through the crowd. When they met resistance, they dropped their heads and pushed harder, as if braving a fierce Boston storm.
While people were knocked down, stepped over, and shoved every which way, one man towered over the rest. He stood nearly seven feet, and was as thick as he was tall. Robert Gregg stepped into Pratt Street, pushing people out of his path as if wading through a calm stream. He moved against the swarm’s tide, going into the street as people were being shoved to the sidewalk.
Gregg’s thick forehead and bushy eyebrows were obscured by the low bill of his cap. His small beady eyes were fixed on the advancing troops. There was no humanity in these cold eyes.
A little man in tattered clothes was shoved into the giant. He grabbed Gregg’s coat and held tight as the people surged around them. He looked up and patted Gregg’s thick arm. “Say partner, you’re a hell of a find in this scrap!” The man smiled, exposing three black teeth. “Name’s
Gregg glared at Rogers like he was speaking some unknown language.
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About the Book
It is the first week of the Civil War. Fort Sumter has fallen, and men are answering the call to arms both North and South. The United States is in grave danger of being torn apart, and Washington is vulnerable to a Southern invasion. In Baltimore, fanatics are plotting to take the city by force, led by a wealthy shipping magnate with the support of the pro-South local authorities.
As the conspirators assemble and mass arms for the imminent attack, one man is assigned to uncover their plot. But before this native New Yorker and Mexican War veteran can save the Union, he must first conquer his inner demons and save himself. Can he thwart the legionnaires before they capture Washington?
About the Author
Walter Coffey was born in Joliet, Illinois, a suburb of Chicago, in 1971. Writing became a hobby at an early age, having pursued journalism in high school. He turned to film and radio in college, and in 1995 he graduated from Loyola University (Chicago) with a degree in Communications. He worked briefly as a radio commentator and amateur filmmaker. With history as his underlying interest, Walter became a high school history teacher. During this time, he also wrote several unpublished works of historical fiction.
Now focusing on writing, Walter has been acknowledged for exceptional writing by the Quincy Writers’ Guild. Currently residing in Chandler, Arizona, Walter spends much of his time researching ideas for future stories.