Gods and Generals - Jeff Shaara [108]
Washburn sat behind his fat desk, framed by heavy flags, the state of Maine and the Stars and Stripes. It was a picture that Chamberlain had expected, what a governor’s office should look like. Washburn was a man of medium height, showed signs of a prosperous life; a large roundness pushed his coat forward. He wore glasses, peered over them at the young professor, then glanced over to another man, a thin, older man in a blue uniform, who sat beside the great desk, examining Chamberlain carefully.
“Professor Chamberlain. We received your request. . . . A bit unusual, but these are unusual times. I understand that you wish to volunteer for service. Exactly what did you have in mind?”
Chamberlain stood stiffly, said, “Governor, I would like to volunteer for military service in whatever capacity you consider appropriate. I am an educated man, I have considerable experience instructing young people, and I am willing to serve where the army considers me the most useful. Sir.”
“Professor, that’s a fine offer. Are you familiar with General Hodsdon, our adjutant general for the state of Maine?”
Chamberlain looked at the man in the uniform, who nodded pleasantly, and Chamberlain stiffened again, said, “No, sir.”
“Well, Professor, General Hodsdon has the unenviable responsibility of organizing and equipping our volunteer regiments, and seeing that they are staffed with commanders who may lead them out safely beyond the border of our state, so they may lend a hand to President Lincoln’s army. General, would you like to ask the professor here some questions?”
“Certainly, Governor. Professor, I took the liberty of wiring your President Woods, asking about you. Nothing too personal, of course, but we do need to know what we are dealing with here.”
Chamberlain looked at Hodsdon, felt a lump forming in his stomach.
“Professor, in all honesty, I was surprised to find that President Woods did not seem to be aware that you were making this visit.”
“No, sir, I did not inform him.”
“May I ask why?”
“Because, sir . . .” He paused, sorted the words. “I am considered to be a good teacher. I have a prestigious position at Bowdoin. It is unlikely that Dr. Woods would appreciate my desire . . . to leave.”
“You’re quite right about that, he did not seem to appreciate it at all. However, he did respond to my inquiry with some highly positive comments. I don’t mean to embarrass you, Professor, but he considers you a brilliant man. He made mention of your value to the college, and he considers you to be the . . . how did he put it . . . the ‘new light of the future’ or something like that.”
“Dr. Woods is very kind. I do not consider myself destined, however, to remain behind the walls of a university. I have a strong belief in the need, our need, to win this war.”
“That’s good, Professor. Tell me, do you have any military experience?”
He paused again, thought of just saying no, but considered that anything might help. “Sir, when I was younger, I attended Major Whiting’s Military Academy.” He felt instantly foolish. He had been barely a teenager.
“Yes, I’m familiar with Major Whiting. Is there anything else?”
“No, sir. But before you pass judgment, please allow me to express that . . . I will accept the challenge of studying military tactics, and I will apply myself to training as I have applied myself to . . . many things.”
Chamberlain stared straight ahead, looking past Washburn’s head, heard a slight chuckle.
Hodsdon said to Washburn, “Governor, President Woods gave me a lengthy description of this young professor. He speaks seven languages, teaches four different disciplines, and Woods says he will likely master any subject that is placed before him.”
“It’s no wonder President Woods is unhappy with your running off to join the army.” Both men laughed now, and Chamberlain nodded slightly, felt himself relaxing.
Washburn waved his hand, said, “Professor, it is not necessary for you to stand at attention. You’re making me nervous. Sit down,