Soldier Boy's Discovery, page 9
He looked around to see his father, who was now firing from behind a log. There was no question of retreating. The Potomac River was behind them, so there was no place to go. Tom loaded his musket, his face black with powder, and fired again and again.
Far over on the right, General Burnside tried to drive his men across a narrow bridge. It was no more than twelve feet wide, and the Union troops who tried to fight their way across did not get far. Longstreet’s men picked them off, and time after time the Northern soldiers had to retreat.
Then the Union troops gained a foothold, and finally it looked as though they would be able to win the battle. If they could take this position, they could swing around behind the rest of the long, crooked Rebel line.
“We’re not going to be able to hold them!” a Confederate officer cried. At the same time a movement caught his eye. “Look! Who are those men? Are they ours or theirs?”
His fellow officer looked through his field glasses and then cried out, “It’s A. P. Hill, here from Harper’s Ferry!”
It was indeed General Hill of the Army of Northern Virginia. He’d marched his men hard, and now he threw them into the battle. It was this that saved the day for the Confederates. The breach was sealed, and the battle was over.
The sun went down, glowing blood red in the smoky twilight, and the light faded over the battlefield. Gradually the thunder of the guns died away. Then the musketry ceased too, and a silence came on, broken only by an occasional volley like the last drops of a shower. The bloodiest single day in all American history was finally over. Neither side knew exactly how many men it had lost. There was a truce to bury the dead and collect the wounded the next day.
The Army of Northern Virginia had never been in worse condition. The Federals held the cornfield and various river crossings, and Lee had lost a fourth of his army. His officers all urged him to retreat, but he remained in position all the next day.
McClellan, however, had had all the fighting he wanted. He had received fresh troops and now had enough men once again to win the battle, but such was beyond General McClellan.
Captain Nelson Majors was busy trying to pull together the shattered remnants of his company.
Jeff had been taken several hundred yards back, away from the line of battle. All day he heard the cannon roar and the crackle of muskets. But he was so ill he couldn’t rise from the ground.
Finally, as the air cooled and the sun began to go down, his fever broke, and he gained some strength. Trembling in every nerve, he rose to his feet, his mind cloudy. He was determined to find his father and brother, so he stumbled along through the thickets. Unfortunately, he took a wrong turn and wound his way through a scrub forest.
Perhaps that was fortunate instead. If he had found his way to the battle, in all likelihood he would have been shot down, helpless as he was.
Now he stumbled once more and fell full-length on his face. “Got to get up …” he whispered hoarsely. “Got to find Pa and Tom.” He struggled to his hands and knees, and as he rose the world seemed to go in a circle. He held onto a sapling until the dizziness passed and then staggered forward.
Jeff never knew how long he managed to keep on his feet, but the journey seemed unending. He fell more than once. His mind was so cloudy that he began speaking to his fellow soldiers as if they were there. “Curly, you’re all right. Help me, will you? Sergeant Mapes, I can’t find you. Where are you?” All this time he reeled forward, his face scratched from briars and low-hanging branches.
Finally he thought he heard voices, but he was too weak to walk toward them. Then his foot slipped under a root. He went crashing to the ground and with a sob tried to get up, but it was too much for him. As the thunder of the guns died away, Jeff Majors slipped into unconsciousness on the battlefield of Antietam.
“Tom, I can’t find Jeff anywhere.”
Captain Majors stopped beside his son, who, along with Walter Beddows, was digging a grave. “What do you mean you can’t find him, Pa?” Tom said, forgetting to use his father’s proper title. His face was pale, and his hands were trembling. He stared at the captain, saying, “He’s got to be there.”
“Well, he’s not. Come on. Come with me. We’ll have to find him.”
Tom tossed the shovel down and followed his father quickly. “You think the Yankees got him?”
“Oh, he was too far behind our lines for that. But he’s gone somewhere. I should’ve left someone with him.”
“There really wasn’t anyone to leave. But we’ll find him—don’t worry,” Tom replied.
They searched for the rest of the afternoon. Finally word came that there was going to be a retreat across the Potomac.
“We can’t leave him here, Pa. He’s got to be somewhere,” Tom cried.
“I know it. I’ll see if I can get permission to stay.”
Stonewall Jackson was a busy man that day. But he put aside everything to listen to Captain Majors. His eyes were filled with sympathy, but he said, “We have to get across the river, Captain. If you stay here, you’ll be gobbled up as a prisoner of war again. If the boy’s hurt, even if they find him, he’ll be a prisoner at the worst.”
“I don’t want him to be in a prisoner of war camp, General Jackson!”
“Neither do I. But we’ll have to trust God for this.” It was the best Nelson Majors could do. He returned to the camp, and when the retreat started there was nothing to do but go with his men.
The Army of Northern Virginia pulled up at the Potomac that night. The men struggled across, and one of the last groups to cross over was the Stonewall Brigade. As they moved wearily across the river, Tom looked back where the Union Army lay, still inactive.
“I sure hate to leave Jeff here. I surely hate to do it,” he muttered under his breath. He lowered his head and joined the troops, and soon they were across the river, safe from attack by the Federal Army.
They were leaving behind many who would never fight again. The countryside would be filled with graves, some single and sometimes twenty men buried in a mass grave. Lee’s attack on the North had failed. Both armies were cut to pieces, but while the North had men to fill the gaps left by the battle, the South had none.
Nelson Majors ruefully observed, “We’re surely going to be spread mighty thin from now on!”
10
“I Can’t Go Home”
Royal! Thank God! You’re all right!”
Leah had been watching the line of stretcher-bearers bringing the wounded back from the battle. She was so intent on searching the faces on the stretchers that at first she didn’t see her brother staggering along beside them. When she saw him, she gasped, only then realizing that her worst fears had been groundless.
She ran to Royal and, throwing her arms around him, held him tightly, her eyes shut to keep the tears back.
Royal held his sister, stroking her long blonde hair. When he stepped back, she saw that his eyes were red with fatigue and black with gunpowder.
“I’m fine, sis,” he said. “Not a scratch.”
“What about the others?” Leah asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. “Are—are our own boys all right?”
“We lost some—but Ira’s all right.”
Leah squeezed her eyes shut once again, not daring to ask which boys from their own valley would never return to its green peacefulness. “Come on, Royal,” she finally urged. “Pa wanted to see you as soon as I found you. You can tell us both about it.”
“How is he?”
“Not good. He’s not sleeping, but he has no strength to get up, and I don’t know what else to do for him.”
The two found Dan Carter sitting with his back against a tree. As soon as he saw Royal, his eyes lit up and from somewhere he mustered the strength to struggle to his feet. “God be thanked!” he exclaimed, putting his arms around the young soldier. “You’re safe!”
“Sure am, Pa.” Royal smiled, obviously making light of the horror he had experienced in order to spare his father. “I guess your prayers—and Leah’s—are pretty strong.”
“You look beat out, son,” Mr. Carter said. “I’m sure your spirit’s as tuckered out as your body after the hell you went through today. Sit down and take something to eat.”
Royal responded to his father’s offer. “I’m not very hungry, Pa, but I just can’t get enough to drink.”
Leah pushed him over to a shady spot. “You sit down right there, Royal!” As soon as he slumped down next to his father, who in turn slid down the tree trunk to rest beside him, Leah scurried around, bringing him a big tin cup of water, then stirring up the fire. Soon the air was filled with the smell of bacon frying, and when she put a plateful of bacon and beans in front of him, he ate hungrily.
“I’m eating like a hog!” he exclaimed. His mouth was blackened from the black-powder cartridges he had ripped open with his teeth in the scurry to reload during the battle. “Fellow forgets all about fine manners in a battle—and afterward too.”
“Don’t you be worrying about manners, Royal,” Leah said. “Nothing a clean wet rag and some soap can’t fix. I’ll fix you some coffee,” she continued, “and then you can wash up out of the wash tin over on that barrel by the wagon.” Soon she returned the tin cup, this time full of steaming, strong black coffee.
“Got any sugar for this?” he asked.
“Oh, I forgot!” She ran and came back with a small canful. “The only times I’ve known you to take sugar in your coffee was when you were plumb tuckered out from clearing land for plowing, or butchering.” She thrust the sugar tin toward him.
When Royal had shoveled five large spoonfuls into his cup, she found a smile. “You just drink coffee to get all that sugar,” she chuckled. Then she sat down and drew her knees up. “Tell us about the battle, Royal.”
“It was the worst yet. I pray to God I never see worse.” He spoke of the charge he’d made through the cornfield, and how men had gone down on both sides of him. “It was like they were cut down with a scythe,” he murmured.
“And you just kept going?”
“As far as we could. But we took a licking in that field. When we had to retreat, our fellows were all over the ground. Lots of ’em were wounded, but the Rebs captured the ones that weren’t too bad off. They just left the really bad ones.”
Dan Carter sat with his eyes half shut, listening to Royal describe the battle. When his son’s voice finally trailed off, he said simply, “I’m glad you’re safe, son.”
Royal gave his father and sister an odd look. He had a haunted look in his fine eyes as he said, “I don’t think I’ll ever forget this battle. So many of our fellows shot down!”
“Did we win, Royal?” Leah asked. She had listened to his story with a strange, sick feeling. As the long line of the wounded had passed, it had brought the terrible price of the war home to her.
“I guess so. In a way.”
Dan looked at his son, frowning. “But we kept Lee and his army fought off, didn’t we?”
“Pa, we should have captured the whole Army of Northern Virginia. We had the men to do it. The Rebs were stretched so thin—if we’d all gone at them, we’d have done it. And who knows but it might’ve marked the end of the war!”
“Why didn’t you all go on?” Dan asked.
“General McClellan—they say he’s good at training soldiers—but he’s no fighting general. Just can’t stand to send men into a battle.”
“So we’ll have to do it again?” Leah asked in horror.
Royal nodded wearily. “I’m afraid so. It’s going to be a long war. The Rebs won’t quit, and we can’t whup ’em until we get us a fighting general!”
All afternoon Leah stayed busy taking water to the wounded. A steady stream of stretcher-bearers and ambulances flowed by on the road, and the men were all thirsty, it seemed. A creek ran through a grove of pecan trees two hundred yards from the road. How many times Leah made the trip carrying two buckets, she never knew. Her arms grew weary, but as the soldiers whispered their thanks, she felt it was little enough to do.
One young soldier with a bloody bandage on his arm stooped and drank thirstily, then managed a smile. “That was ’bout the best drink I ever had, miss.” He was pale and looked terribly tired. Something in his face reminded Leah of Jeff.
“Where are you from?” Leah asked as she dipped more water into his cup.
“Virginia—just outside of Richmond.”
Leah stared at him with surprise. “Why, I didn’t expect to find any soldiers from there!”
“My folks didn’t hold with slavery. When the war started, we left home and moved to the North.”
Leah paused, thinking of Jeff and his family—only they had moved from Kentucky to Virginia to fight for states’ rights. “That must have been hard for you. What’s your name?”
“George Hill.” He asked her name, then said, “Yes, it was sure hard to leave. It was the only home I knew.”
Leah handed him the cup, saying, “I have an uncle who lives in Richmond. His name is Silas Carter.”
“Don’t guess I know him, Miss Leah. You ever visit him?”
“Oh, yes. My sister and I went there to take care of him.”
“He’s sick, is he?”
“He was, but he’s better now.”
“Where ’bouts does your uncle live?” He listened as Leah described the location of Silas’s farm, and his eyes opened wide. “Why, I know that place. Been by it lots of time on the way to town.”
“Is that right? Well, it’s a small world, isn’t it, George?” The youthful soldier talked about his home, finally saying, “Don’t guess I can ever go back there, even if we win this war.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, everyone around there is for the South. You saw that, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I guess I did,” Leah nodded reluctantly. “But lots of them aren’t for slavery either—they just don’t think the federal government should have the say-so about it. Don’t you think that if we win the war, they’ll soften up?”
“After the war all our old neighbors will be thinking of my family as the ones who left to fight for the Yankees—the ones who took away their rights and killed their menfolks.”
Leah was silent, for she had not thought of this. Then she said, “God brought you through this battle, George. He’ll take care of you.”
On impulse she touched his good arm and then motioned toward the wagon. She couldn’t get Jeff out of her mind. “Why don’t you come over and rest for a while? I’ll fix you something to eat.”
George brightened and went with her. While Leah was fixing a simple meal as she had earlier for her brother, her father sat and talked with the young soldier. When Leah brought a plate of food, he ate hungrily, then handed back the plate. “That was fine, Miss Leah!”
“Let me wash that wound a little, and then you can take a little nap. You’ll feel better.”
“Reckon that might be good. I don’t want infection, and I’m tuckered out.”
When the soldier had gone to lie down on a blanket underneath a tree, Leah told her father about him. “He can’t ever go back to Virginia, Pa,” she said sadly. “I can’t think of much worse than not ever going home.”
Dan Carter stroked his scraggly mustache slowly. “Another bad thing about this war,” he muttered. “Even when the shooting is over, there’ll still be lots of grief.”
Leah kept at her station, giving water to the endless line of soldiers.
And then George Hill came to say good-bye. “Thanks for everything, Miss Leah,” he said. “I’d better get going.”
“I hope everything works out for you, George.” She smiled thinly.
“Well, I’ll have one good memory of Antietam.” George grinned. “I can’t go home again, but I’ll never forget a pretty young lady taking time to give me water and a meal. Thanks, and good-bye.”
As Leah watched him go, Ezra came to stand beside her. He’d spent the hours since the battle helping the camp’s chief surgeon sort out the casualties. He watched the young soldier stride off, both arms swinging equally, almost as if he hadn’t been wounded. “I guess he’ll be all right. That wound’s not too bad.”
Leah shook her head. “But he’s so sad, Ezra. Virginia was his home, and now he can’t ever go back there.”
“But he’s alive, and he’s got a family. He’ll be all right.”
Leah turned and exclaimed, “You’ve always got a home with us, Ezra.”
“I think about that quite a bit.” He looked at the line of wounded and the ambulances and said quietly, “Nothing’s worth much in this world unless you have people. I ain’t never had any, so I know about that.”
At supper that night, Ezra noticed that Leah said almost nothing. She went to bed early, and he cleaned up the dishes. When he was finished, he sat down beside Dan Carter and asked, “How are you feeling, sir?”
“Well, not as well as I’d like, but I’m asking God for strength to keep on. It helps a heap to know Royal’s all right.”
“You sure handed out a bunch of tracts and Bibles today by Leah’s never-empty water barrel.”
Carter hadn’t the strength to dip the water for the thirsty soldiers, but every soldier who got water from Leah got a tract from him. “I wish I could give a Bible to all of them,” he said finally. “Poor boys—all wounded and some of them not going to make it!”
Ezra’s brow wrinkled, and he said hesitantly, “Leah didn’t say five words at supper—and then went right off to bed. I sure hope she ain’t getting sick.”
“I think she’s worried about Jeff.”
“I reckon you’re right.”
“She thinks a heap of that boy,” Dan murmured. “They grew up like brother and sister.” He glanced at Ezra, then asked, “She say anything to you about the set-to she had with him?”
“Just a little.”
“Well, it don’t take much to upset Leah where Jeff’s concerned. Wish it hadn’t happened. She can’t help but think how bad it would be if he got killed. She’d never forgive herself if that happened.”
“It would be downright hard on her, wouldn’t it?”
