A Matter of Conscience

Riding forth on that cold and windy January morning, the lieutenant rode on Brown’s right at the front of the band of Jayhawkers.  Snow blew across the prairie as the bundled raiders protected their faces from the biting cold with scarves tied smugly around their heads.  Steam ripped from their horses nostrils and glistened in the morning sun as they snorted from the freezing air.  No one spoke unless necessary.  Talking was too painful as howling wind penetrated their mouths and cut their throats like knives.  Ice formed on their whiskers as the warmed air escaped their noses and froze on their moustaches.

Waking with the sun after camping toward an outcropping against a small hill, the raiders awoke to find the weather somewhat settled.  The raw and pointed wind had subsided, and the sun conveyed an amount of warmth to their faces.  Stoking up the campfire they fried some fatback and boiled a pot of coffee.  Adjusting their cinches for the day ahead, they mounted and rode off to battle. 

Arriving around midday, Brown divided his thirty-four men into two groups.  One would attack from the south under the command of  the lieutenant, while Brown would lead the attack from the north.

The lieutenant sat straight in the saddle with his broad- edged sword raised high above his head.  As he approached the startled citizens on the sidewalk, all he could see in his devil’s eyes were horrible faces of demons stomping and beating innocent black men to death under their feet.  Approaching one gentleman carrying a sack of groceries out of the general store, he brought down his sword with an arching blow and severed the head of the defenseless citizen.  Riding his horse down the wooden sidewalk, he slashed first one way and then the other through terrified men as they ran for cover up and down the street. 

John Brown utilized similar tactics on the other end of the street as he rushed headlong toward the lieutenant and his men.  He rode with his sword slashing in his right hand while he fired his pistol from his left.       

Completing their mission, Brown and his lieutenant led their blood covered raiders out of town, leaving fifty-four citizens dead or dying.  As they rode slowly off into the distance, the sounds of wailing and screaming could be heard from those left to mourn.

One of the raiders who fought along with the lieutenant turned to his comrade and with awe on his face said, “I looked into the lieutenant’s eyes as he led us into battle; never before in my life have I seen such hate in a human being.  It was as if I was looking into the eyes of Satan.”