Riddle of the Confederate Spy

Written by Moe Zilla

Cannons fired in Maryland, as 45,000 Confederate soldiers crossed the Potomac River, approaching Washington, D.C.

But far away in Illinois, a lonely Union sergeant performed his own duty – guarding a secluded stretch of railroad tracks against sabotage. It had only been one week, and already he missed home.

That night, the sergeant’s troubled eyes searched the sky for answers, while the campfire cast shadows on the faces of four soldiers who accompanied him. “You're all good soldiers,” Sergeant Stoker said, fondly. “Unfortunately, one of you is a spy.”

Then, the sergeant held up a bundle of dynamite.

“This was on the bridge,” he said, his eyes searching the faces surrounding the campfire. “Without that bridge, the railroad can't continue on to Pennsylvania. Those Confederate soldiers attacking Maryland right now would like to stop our supplies from getting through. So much so, it seems, that they've snuck a saboteur into our unit.”

The soldiers were far from the war's front lines, and yet such an integral part of the effort. A single bundle of dynamite could leave the troops ill-equipped and ineffective, changing the outcome of the crucial battles to come, and maybe even the war itself. The future of the United States was at stake.

And now, an enemy spy was among them. A man they had worked with, talked with, and come to trust over the first week of guarding the railroad bridge. But how had the sergeant known?

“There's no one else near this bridge for miles,” the sergeant said, wearily, “and no way to approach it without being seen. Unfortunately, I don't know any of you. Each of you arrived some time during this week, each saying you'd been sent here by your regiment's office.” He paced around the fire, “And, unfortunately – one of you is lying.”

What was going through the sergeant's head? Why would he brandish the incriminating dynamite in front of every solider? Did he want to frighten the suspect, or was it a clever trick? Did the sergeant hope the spy would run away?

Well, there was no such luck, and the situation quickly became dire. Could the soldiers sleep that night knowing one among them was an enemy?

To determine the spy’s identity would take careful reflection and wit.

“Each of you arrived here carrying a back pack,” he continued, “which could easily conceal a bundle of dynamite.” The men looked at each other uneasily.

“Winslow,” the sergeant suddenly shouted, “Who's the President of the United States.”

“Abraham Lincoln,” Winslow answered, suspiciously.

“Were you hoping he'd say Jefferson Davis,” joked a soldier named Parker. “Then you'd know he was a Confederate rebel sticking dynamite under our bridge for sure!”

“There are other ways,” said Sergeant Stoker.

An owl hooted in the night.

Sergeant Stoker scanned the four soldiers thoughtfully, and then finally asked, slowly, “Who arrived here first?”

“I did,” said Parker, “followed by McMurty, then Winslow and finally Garret.”

“I would've got here first,” insisted Garrett, “but my horse was lazy.”

“Was your horse lazy, Garrett – or were you!” joked Parker. The soldiers laughed, relieved for a moment to break the tension.

“And where is it that each of you is sleeping?” Stoker continued.

“Under that tree,” said Garrett. “It blocks the sun when it comes up in the morning.”

“In front of that bush,” answered Winslow, still suspicious.

“Beside the campfire,” answered McMurty. “I'm always cold!”

“Behind that rock,” said Parker. “So I can watch for Confederate spies!”

“Refresh my memory,” said the sergeant casually, “What states were you sent here from?”

“Ohio,” said Garrett. “I left just before harvest time came for our family's corn crop.”

“So's he wouldn't have to work!” joked Parker. “I came from West Virginia where I log the incoming ships at a receiving house.”

“Indiana,” said Winslow, very suspicious now. “I was working in my father's blacksmith shop.”

“Illinois,” said McMurty. “I had an apprenticeship at a printer's shop.”

“That settles it,” said Sergeant Stoker. He stood up from the campfire, and then returned, sternly carrying a pair of iron handcuffs. “I think I know which man should be wearing these.”