A Literary Chestnut 2

The diary pages Ken Burns didn’t read you!

Charleston last night was ablaze in celebration. We had heard glorious news: Fort Sumner had surrendered! The pride of the arrogant Yankees lies in the dust. Torchlights and banners festooned the city.

My dear father had gone visiting when my beau, Reginald Weaton, came by this afternoon. He was wearing the uniform of his company, the

Calleton County Abraham Lincoln Slayers. It is a green uniform with silver epaulettes and a yellow stripe down the sides. He looked most brave in it. I know it is not proper for a woman to receive her beau without her parents

around, but I thought since he would soon be marching off to battle that I felt a variance was in order. I motioned him to the parlor.

After some small talk, I demanded that he kneel before me to pledge his faith to me while away to service of his country. He took my hand in mine and swore in most colorful and immoderate language that he would be true and keep my image before him to inspire him. I blushed at this outpouring.

Then I found his hand left mine, and he commenced groping me over my dress on my heavy bosom. The manner was most impudent. I should have slapped him on his liberty taking face, but for some reason I did not, even as his hand continued to make circles on my bosom. I found the sensation more than pleasant. I wanted him to continue and then discover the noticeable wetness that had commenced in my nether regions.

Just then Sassy, one of the household servants walked in, and beheld the scene. I ordered her out, gave Reginald a little peck and then dismissed him to his duty.

Now I find I must give Sassy a dollar each week or she will relate the scene in the parlor to my parents. The privations of war have already begun for me.

Mary Chestnut, April 14, 1861

Last afternoon I was all aflutter. Reginald would be coming home for a brief visit on the late train. This would be the first time I had seen him since the unfortunate incident in the parlor.

Old Pompey met him at the depot and brought him to the house. Father and I received him in the parlor. He then began to question dear Reginald at length about serving under Lee in the glorious Cause, and his role at the recent struggle at Sharpsburg. Reginald answered him politely, but seemed, I observed, a little impatient and distracted. Finally he politely asked Father the trip had been long and would I

do him the kindness of showing him the outhouse?

“Ah, yes, you young people want a word alone. Please show him, Mary, while I prepare a drink for our noble warrior.”

Once outside, however, Reginald took the lead and steered us not to the outhouse but to the smokehouse, which was cool and empty at that hour. Once there, he did not stand on ceremony, but seized me and forced open my mouth with an imperious tongue.

I separated from him and teased them such. “Do you consider me Yankee works, that much be carried by storm? Please know a gentle siege will allow to carry your objective with more facility.”

At this point there was no mistaking it. The sensation of his finger groping my nether regions was delighting me like a drug.

“Forbear, Mary, that while my manhood does long for your intimate embrace, far be it from me to embarrass you in your Father’s home. Instead I do wish you to take me orally.”

“What?” I said in all my innocence. To my astonishment Reginald undid the fly of his grey trousers. there emerged a great pole of flesh. I had often envisioned a manhood, especially while committing the sin of Onan

(something I confess I did with frequency, may God have mercy on me) but the reality far eclipsed the conceptualization. Reginald’s manhood was so long, so thick, so magnificent I instinctively leaned down to grasp it.

I took it in my trembling hand. With his own, he commenced to demonstrate an across motion. I thought it strange, but I noticed that he seemed to be in transports, with the most blissful look on his face.

“Mary, please, take it in your mouth.” With that he pushed my head lower. I confess my first thought was revulsion. This, after all, was the organ he relieved himself with! Yet I could not mistake the imperativeness of his hand upon my head. It was as if his entire being was

concentrated on the wish for my mouth on his manhood. So I suppressed by disgust, and showing that I too possess the dauntless spirit of our people, took it into my mouth at a will. Reginald rose to his full height, the better to give my mouth and my hands on his legs purchase.

“Oh yes, Mary, you have no idea how much you are helping the Cause. Ahhhh, three South Carolina regiments at the front could not mean more.” At such a patriotic appeal I redoubled my efforts.

It seemed we were there for some time. I had no thought of my crinoline skirt getting dirty on the smokehouse floor. I had no thought of my father wondering where his daughter. Reginald’s hands on my thick, dark hair trembled more. He rocked back on his boots. A rapid flow of salty liquid

made its way into my mouth. So crazed with desire I was I gave no thought of expelling it therein, but swallowed it down as if it was the finest port. Reginald gave a deep sigh, and without replacing his organ, lifted me to his

lips with the passionate kiss I was longing for. Then there was a sudden knock on the door which sent us both rigid with terror.

It was - God damn her black soul - Sassy. From where she was, I knew she could see Reginald’s exposed and softening cod. She glanced upon it with a strange equanimity.

“Miss Mary, your father asks that you and Mister Reginald come up to

dinner immediately.”

So the unfortunate result is not only do I have an emptiness in my nether regions which demands relief from the again absent Reginald but I must turn over my silver brooch to Sassy as well as double the previous tariff for her silence. I now know what that Yankee general Sherman meant when he said war is hell.

Mary Chestnut, September 30, 1862

Dear Diary:

It is today that I received a shattering blow. My father took me aside and said that he had the gravest news to impart to me. He took his hands in mine, and I prepared to received tidings that my darling Reginald had been

killed at the late battle at Gettysburg.

Instead he told me the most strange intelligence. Reginald was alive and well, but he had written Father to tell him that our relationship must now be severed. He had become emotionally involved with a young staff officer,

a personal aide to General Longstreet. I asked through my tears if the Army was now accepting women. He seemed puzzled by my question, and then

related to me that the drive of the male being so strong sometimes males will grow an attraction for other males. I was of course horrified at this. I could not understand why a man would prefer the company of a man to a woman,

even if absent from his immediate presence. And to think that the cruel beast did decline to take my virginity! Thinking upon it, I could not help but wonder if, with the casualty lists being what they have been, that I will be left

with no one to fill my void. Upon pondering this, my anger at Reginald and the traitorous sex he represented knew no bounds.

I could not bear to be in the house a moment longer. I fled my father and left distraught with grief and made my way to the wharf. I chanced upon a soldier of the

garrison. He made a most impudent remark to me. Normally I would find his officer and demand that the man be horsewhipped. Instead I noticed aloud he was away from the front and stated that if he claimed the intrepid quality Southern

soldiers esteem for themselves, that he must demonstrate such. I pulled him into a nearby alleyway and proceeded to embrace him.

In contrast to Reginald, he proceeded with a chilling alacrity. Scarce had he explored the contours of my bosom, than I found him making inroads among my smallclothes with his hands. Remembering the thrill of beholding Reginald’s manhood, I longed to see this soldier's, but my skirts prevented a viewing. Instead I felt his organ making imperious inroads between my legs.

I braced myself against the stranger, and received his manhood inside me with a shudder. I hesitated not, but fell back against the wall, seized him, and began to receive his thrusts. The smell of tobacco and dirty uniform would have

normally repelled me, but instead I took it in part of the complete experience of my deflowering. He wanted to kiss, but I refused him, and demanded instead he get me whisky.

I came home at a late hour, dirty and disheveled, limping, and under the influence of alcohol, but feeling an odd sense of satiation. I trembled to think of what Father’s wrath would have in store for me. It was fortunate,

however, that he had gone to bed and the door was answered by someone else. I need not reveal to the attentive reader who this person was.

Today I have counted myself fortunate that I only have had to explain to Father why the silverware is missing and that he should not search for it in the servant’s quarters.

Mary Chestnut, July 18, 1863

NEXT - MARY EXPERIENCES THE HORROR OF THE YANKEE

INCURSION!

(it.)Note: I hope that this will be regarded in the spirit of fun. I realize

I am taking GREAT liberties with the life story of Mary Boykin Chestnut.(it.)