“It’s moments like this that make you, well, question the nature of things, question yourself even.”
Roar of the fire meant that Jack had to shout his words, which inherently took away from the gravity of the statement he was trying to make.
“Whaddya mean?” Shouted Leopold from across the back of the fire engine as they
wrestled with a length of hose.
“The secesh boys set fire to the calaboose the Yankees put the drunks in.”
They pulled the hose of the fire engine and started running it toward the burning brick building.
“Yes. Yes, I am very aware of this.” Leopold held his hand up to shield his face from the heat.
“But, they had to ride past the garrison, through the heart of town to burn down an unimportant building across from the police station. It seems like such a petty statement to make, considering the great risk to life and limb.” A piece of smoldering twine floated past his eyes. “So insignificant in the grand scheme of things.”
“Or, it just meant they’re like the rest of us.”
Leopold open the hose nozzle.
“Mad as hell you can’t get a drink in this town.”
After a few too many incidents of drunken debauchery, the Union officials occupying Memphis banned the sale of liquor. A short while later, the guerilla fighters loyal to the Confederacy burned down the calaboose – a small, square brick and stone building used as a non-military jail. I’m sure the two things were completely unrelated.