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Andrew J. Olinde, Jr.

I grew up in Baton Rouge, Louisiana and attended
Louisiana State University. During college I majored in History with a
concentration in the American Civil War. After graduation I got married
to my wife, Lauren, and moved to Monroe, Louisiana to attend the
University of Louisiana at Monroe Business School. I graduated with a
Masters of Business Administration and currently work as a Healthcare
Representative for Vantage Health Plan. I hope to become a successful
writer in the future.
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The Tree Line is a about a melancholy Confederate
captain who is struggling with the perilous combination of war and
alcohol addiction. The cruelty of the American Civil War not only
affects the captain, but it also affects the emotional state of his
deteriorating wife who resides in Union-occupied New Orleans. In
desperation, the wife asks her husband to make a promise.
Excerpt
Word Count: 5800
Pages to Print:
22
File Format: PDF
Price: $2.99

EXCERPTS
The Tree Line
The invisible hand of anxiety
was squeezing the very life out of Captain Leon. He turned away from his
ragged men and strolled behind the long row of white tents. Once he had
walked deep within the safety of the large cluster of honey locust trees
and was certain he was out of sight of Second Company, the captain, with
trembling hands, loosened his stiff red collar and tried to get some
oxygen into his deflated lungs. He paced between an auburn shrub to the
height of the navy sash tied around his waist and the decorative web of
a garden spider spun between two small trees. As he paced, the captain’s
legs weakened. Finding a nearby tree stump, Leon sat down and ran his
thin fingers through his long locks of blonde hair. He tried to stroke
away the suffocating feeling that was making beads of sweat stream down
his broad forehead and drip into his deep blue eyes.
He wished he had someone with
whom he could share his troubles. His inability to show or share these
unnerving experiences with his fellow men of the 6th Louisiana made
Captain Leon’s current state unbearable.
As he sat upon the tree stump
drawing in shallow breaths of warm air, Leon began to think about his
wife, Elizabeth. He longed to return home to be in her soft comforting
arms. As he thought of her, Leon realized his only escape from his
current surroundings were his thoughts, and he allowed his thoughts to
carry him away from this hot summer’s day. Away to the delicious Sunday
mornings he and Elizabeth spent together on Saint Charles Avenue.
The sunlight crept through
the white drapes and ran up Leon’s smooth face until it hit his eyes. He
softly kissed his wife’s cheek, and rose from his white feather bed to
begin his morning routine of eating breakfast and reading his favorite
newspaper, The Picayune. Elizabeth always slept until the sunlight
interrupted her rest, and then joined Leon on the front veranda
encircling their large Victorian home. After breakfast, they dressed in
their best attire and boarded their white carriage. Weekly, Elizabeth
and Leon attended mass at Saint Louis Cathedral and took long walks
through the family’s sugar plantation on the banks of the Mississippi
River. They picnicked under the large oak tree where Leon proposed to
Elizabeth, drinking French wine and listening to the church bells ring.
Leon ran his tongue over the
faint taste of red wine on his cracked lips. His thoughts created the
sounds of church bells ringing in his sun burnt ears until the sound of
crumbling leaves interrupted them. Turning, he expected to see
Lieutenant Spiller’s red flannel shirt and pale complexion. Relief
flooded the captain, the perpetrator’s footsteps were only the
stick-like legs of a black crow searching for his morning meal.
Leon hopelessly muttered to
himself, “If only I were that crow I would leave this damned place and
fly home.” As if on cue, the crow gave Leon a penetrating and knowing
look, and flew away.
As he watched the crow fly through an opening of a
locust tree the captain realized he knew all too well what the
consequences were for “flying away” from the Army of Northern Virginia.
Last week, two soldiers of Captain Leon’s Second Company were caught in
the act of desertion and Colonel Robb decided to make an example of
them. The two men had managed a small restaurant in the French Quarter
Elizabeth and Leon frequented before the war. The younger man, Jack
Boland, was married to the older man’s daughter, Lucille. Lucille loved
both her husband and father very much, and she would write them ten
letters a week. However, her latest letters depressed the husband and
the father. She had written that Yankee officers had been making sexual
advances toward her in the restaurant, and she feared their future
advances might become forceful. In response to the letters, the two men
resolved to desert the army and protect their wife and daughter.
Leon was shaken when he had
heard the news that skirmishers had captured the two men. The colonel
ordered the entire 6th Louisiana to be present at the hanging.
Unfortunately for Leon, Second Company was in the front row just a few
feet away from the scaffold. The two condemned men were brought out.
Jack Boland, unlike the father, had no intention on dying with dignity.
The young husband kicked, jerked, twisted, pulled, pushed, screamed and
cried all the way from the confinement room to the gallows. The two
guards forced the young husband up the short flight of wooden steps and
steadied him on the platform. Once the noose was drawn tight around both
of their necks, Jack realized any further resistance would be futile.
“Last words?” The executioner
first asked the older man. The father refused to speak and the black
sack was placed over his gray head.
Though tears flowed from his
eyes and disappeared in his thick red beard, Jack was calm. “Last
words?” The executioner repeated without looking into the young
husband’s reddened eyes.
Jack nodded, cleared his
throat, and stepped forward on the gallows, making the noose tighten
around his neck. He took one step back and addressed the 6th. “I did not
flee from this army. My wife is in desperate need of me.” The young
husband dropped his head for a moment and then lifted it again. “Will
someone please pay a visit to my wife if you ever return to New Orleans?
Her name is Lucille Boland and our home is at Royal and Dumaine in the
Quarter.” He nodded to the executioner, refused the black sack and began
praying in unison with the priest who looked up at the gallows from the
muddy field.
“. . . Holy Mary, Mother of
God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of our death. Amen.” The
executioner pulled the lever and the door on the gallows’ floor opened.
The fall from the scaffold broke the father’s neck immediately, but the
young husband’s neck did not break. Captain Leon watched as Jack’s face
became bright red as he continued to kick his feet for a while and then
finally stopped.
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