Brannigan nodded appreciatively. “Hard lines for you boys out there in Tennessee and Georgia.” Pausing a moment, he added, “I was on the East Coast, in the Irish Brigade. Quartermaster Department. Did my share of dodging shot and shell and whizzing rifle balls, but can’t claim I did any actual fighting. Never fired a shot in anger or otherwise.”
Cal laughed. “Well, when you get to the Pueblo you may get to fight after all. Still lots of Rebs and Reb sympathizers around town. When I first got there in ‘67, Union vets weren’t real popular. You could get a fight most anytime— and you didn’t have to be whistlin’ ‘Marchin’ Through Georgia’ to get it.”
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