Epilogue

Standing in front of the large mirror on a stand near the dresser in his assigned quarters, the plump middle-aged man primped, trying to get his thinning hair to lay just right to cover his rapidly growing bald spot. He wasn’t a vain man, at least he didn’t think so, but baldness was not something that he could idly accept.

Finally satisfied with his hair, he turned to both sides giving his reflection one more glance to make sure all was proper with his appearance. He noted, once again, with satisfaction, that while still rather portly, he was losing the extra weight gained from so many years sitting behind a desk.

That thought prompted memories of his youth; when he was thin, straight, and slim. He remembered his teenage years, when he cast around searching for an acceptable direction to take his life. The answer came from his family and, supported by them, he requested and received an appointment to the prestigious institution and the direction he sought.

He remembered with fondness the day he graduated. What a great day that had been, the culmination of years of study and work. In a spotless uniform, he stood with the cadet command element as the long grey line passed the President in review one final time before taking the oath and receiving his commission as a second lieutenant.

It was a pity, he thought, that the reality of army life hadn’t lived up to his dreams. He’d spent the better part of his life being posted in one god forsaken outpost after another. He thought his chance to show what he was made of had come in 1844 when he was posted to the War Department in Washington DC.

What a joke that turned out to be. He was stuck in an office, developing training and doctrine in 1846, when he should have been in Mexico leading men against those papist vermin led by Santa Ana.

If it hadn’t been for his family connections, he’d never have made Major. As it was, those connections finally won him a promotion to Lieutenant Colonel when a close family friend, Franklin Pierce, won the presidency. With his new rank he’d been dispatched to conduct an inspection of all posts in the Western District of Texas and the New Mexico Territory.

With disgust, he recalled the last fourteen months of riding all over the high desert and plains of the Western District. He still couldn’t figure out why anyone would actually want to live anywhere in this dry, dusty, violent environment so far from civilization and gentility.

The closest he’d come to either, as far as he was concerned, had been his time in Santa Fe. Even that town had paled in comparison with real cities back east. Imagine, a city over three hundred years old and most of the buildings were still made of mud, with dirt floors. He shivered remembering all the adobe buildings he’d been forced to live in and inspect on this trip.