Chapter 3
I sensed the shift in time and place immediately. Noting the musty smell and humidity that told me I was outdoors, the slightly hazy harvest moon overhead in a sky bereft of snowflakes, and the sound of rushing water and the muffled din of dozens of chattering men, the line, “Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore” came to mind. In another instant, however, I was thinking of Wilbur, not Toto, and New York instead of Kansas. Something comforted me, though, and in yet another, a feeling of familiarity brought about comprehension.
“Oh.”
Dressed in tight Union Army blue now, instead of loose-fitting Batman gray somehow, I realized it all meant I had traveled back to the past once again. “The Cracker Line is open! Full rations, boys!” I cheered.
The Tennessee night in Oc
