Across the Great Divide

by Michael Ross

  The judge banged the gavel, and the jailer led Albinia away, to the prison wagon. As the wagon went down the road, Albinia beseeched God, wondering how she could have been betrayed.

  ✳ ✳ ✳

  September 20, 1861, Lexington

  Will felt like a thief. He got the summons from Captain Morgan that morning. Now, he snuck out of his parents’ cabin at night, walked the miles to town as he used to, carrying his rifle, his Bible, and some hastily assembled provisions, not knowing when or if he would return. Morgan’s message emphasized the need for secrecy. Will told his parents nothing. He did not know which other Rifles would be coming, except that Basil Duke had returned to Missouri and would not be with them tonight. When he arrived at the assembly point, a few of the other Rifles were already loading wagons with crates of weapons. There was an arrest warrant out for Captain Morgan. The Federals were coming to confiscate all weapons belonging to the Rifles. Morgan was determined that would not happen, so the Rifles were disguising crates of weapons under hay bales and leaving under cover of night, secretly. Will felt torn between pride that Morgan trusted him, wanting him to come, and guilt at taking food and causing his parents pain. He was aware that Morgan probably knew the route as well as he, having an uncanny knack for keeping a map of terrain in his head, yet Morgan asked for him specifically, as they would go out the Versailles Road. The Rifles worked quietly, but there were some whispers.

  “Won’t those Federals be surprised in the morning!” whispered Archie. “They find the bird has flown, they’re gonna look like pretty dumb foxes.”

  “Yes, but the question is will they chase us?” wondered Will. “And what if we run into scouts tonight?”

  “Word is if that happens, we fight,” said Tom Logwood.

  Morgan came over. “Good work, men. But once we leave this barn, we need to be silent as a churchyard, until we’re well out of town. Even then, keep it down and stay alert.”

  Will saw to tying rags around the wagon wheels and making sure the leather straps of the suspension wouldn’t creak too loudly, greasing them with pork fat. The moon would not rise until after sunrise, so darkness worked in their favor. There were three wagons. The first two were filled with weapons and hay, the last with the other Rifles coming on the journey. Any patrols that were out would be Southern sympathizers, so unless they ran into Federal scouts, they should have no problem. Finally, all the gun crates were loaded, some confiscated from the Home Guard, as an enterprising Rifle member picked the lock on the unguarded arsenal.

  “Will, you drive the lead wagon with me. James, take the second wagon. Tom and Archie, you drive the third. If trouble comes, do not fire unless I fire first,” said Morgan, checking the chambers of his revolver.

  They mounted the wagons and drove out, Archie closing the barn doors behind them. They were on the road to war.

  ✳ ✳ ✳

  Will was exhausted, wet, and hungry. Rain drenched them on the way. They had driven the wagons of weapons to Woodsonville. There, Captain John Cripps Wickliffe joined them with a group of infantry volunteers. Wickliffe brought with him rifles and horses “liberated” from his nearby Home Guard. They agreed that Morgan would take command of the entire group. Others came trickling into the Woodsonville camp, hearing about Captain Morgan’s escapade. They marched for two days, hardly stopping, from Woodsonville to Greenville. They named the place Camp Charity. The pro-Union Home Guards stayed out of their way, deeming them too strong to attack. Morgan’s cousin, Thomas Hunt Morgan, was there with two hundred men, and an old friend of Morgan’s, Roger Hanson, “Old Flintlock,” had six hundred men. The original group of seventeen from the Rifles swelled to a force of almost one thousand. Many things were in short supply—horses, guns, and food. The days were spent nonstop drilling. The nights were beginning to be cold, and as October came in, Basil Duke arrived to help his brother-in-law.

  For Will, Camp Charity was not like anything he’d ever experienced. He and Archie shared a pup tent, about ten square feet of ground. There were endless inspections, as the officers tried to bring the men to some level of military competence and efficiency. Many of the officers had served in the Mexican-American war, like Captain Morgan. The food was scarce and indifferent. Before an officer told him not to waste ammunition, Will used his marksmanship to bring in squirrels, rabbits, and once, a deer. The men in his company grew to respect his skills with a rifle. Even Ben Drake came by with grudging congratulations when Will shared the deer with the whole company. On Sundays there was a preacher, and Will often joined the men going to the camp church.

  Finally, Will heard of someone going to Lexington, and sat down to write a letter.

  October 6, 1861

  Dear Ma and Pa,

  I miss you. I hope you are not angry with me. From the beginning, I’ve felt that God wanted me to keep my word to Captain Morgan, and so I have done. We’ve joined the Confederate Army. I know how you feel about that, so I will say no more. The enlistment is short, only one year. Since school is not possible, after that, I will deem my debt to Captain Morgan paid, and come home. I will send my pay to you as I get it, to make up for my absence. Give my love to Lyddie, and to Julia and Albinia when you see them. Please pray for me often. My prayers are with you.

  Your loving son,

  Will

  FIGHTING RIFLES

  October 1861

  Basil Duke came to Will’s tent. Duke was the newly elected first lieutenant of the second Kentucky Cavalry, CSA. James West was now second lieutenant, and Morgan was captain. They were regular army now, not a militia.

  “Yes, sir! What is it, sir?”

  “We’ve found some horses. The captain hopes to persuade the command to give us more. It’s driving him crazy to have a cavalry unit without enough horses for each man. Some of the commanders think cavalry is only good for picket duty. We intend to show them otherwise. The captain ordered me to pick a few men that can ride and shoot. We know that there are Federal messengers and scouts in the area. We want to teach them that this is Kentucky land, not for Federals. What do you say? It’s night duty, using surprise. You’ll still have to drill tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “Good, then report to the quartermaster and draw your mount. We leave in half an hour.”

  Will checked his ammunition and his bayonet. Mounted, he didn’t expect to use it, but he thought being prepared was best. He went and got saddled up. His mount was a dapple gray mare, probably some Arabian in it, with the small head. The large hindquarters promised speed. Will saw Captain Morgan and the others. He mounted and joined the group.

  Morgan briefed them. “I’ve gotten permission to scout, to try and find Federals, especially messengers, and intercept dispatches along with anything else we can get them to tell us. Duke and I will lead. Will, I want you in the rear. The rest of you spread out in a single line behind Duke and me, about ten feet apart. Go quiet. If you have to shoot, aim to wound or unhorse them. Remember, the goal is information, and dead Federals don’t talk. Of course, don’t let them shoot you—if you must kill them, so be it. I aim to show what a cavalry unit can do. Any questions?”

  “No, sir!” they all said in unison.

  The group set out in the growing darkness, traveling as quietly as horsemen can through woods and rough country, occasionally breaking the line to dodge fallen trees. They used hand signals to communicate whenever possible, rather than talking. Duke called a halt, and everyone stopped to listen. They were all tense, fingering their weapons.

  Will heard the sound of horses approaching on their right, from the rear. He signaled those ahead, and the troop turned to face the oncoming horsemen. Duke signaled their right and left flankers to move slowly ahead, so that the horsemen would walk into a trap.

  Will quietly dismounted and tied his horse. He was now near the front of his company, since they reversed. He intended to have a clear shot and make sure the horsemen did not escape. He was nervous. He’d never pointed a gun at a human being b
efore. But he was determined to justify Morgan’s faith in him.

  The moon came out from behind a cloud. Will could see the blue uniform and brass buttons of the horsemen. At the same instant, they saw their peril.

  “It’s a trap!” yelled one, pulling a revolver from a holster.

  Will fired quickly, striking the one with the revolver in the leg, and sent his horse rearing skyward. The revolver shot went wild, and the man fell backward off the horse, hitting the ground heavily. The rest of the Rifles encircled the remaining horsemen, revolvers, swords, and bayonets at the ready. He dropped his reins and quickly surrendered.

  Will began to shake—he’d just fired on another man and wounded him.

  Other ones of the company dismounted and surrounded the wounded man. Morgan spoke gently to him.

  “You’ve done your duty, son. No one can call you a coward. We mean you no further harm. We just want your dispatches and whatever you can tell us about the Federals around here.” Turning to one of the other men, Morgan ordered, “Adams, see to his leg. Patch him up. Then check his horse. If the horse is ridable, take him back with us. Otherwise, put him down.”

  They gave him water, and talked quietly with those they had captured. John Adams found the dispatches on each of the horses and gave them to Morgan. Soon all mounted again, prisoners riding in front. Will saw that the Federal soldier just had a flesh wound. By great good fortune, the ball struck first a saddle skirt, then a rib of the horse after wounding the soldier. Even the horse would recover.

  When they arrived back at camp, Will accepted congratulations, but felt both elated and troubled by the night’s events. The intelligence they recovered about troop movements was valuable. Will tumbled into his tent and caught two or three hours sleep before reveille wakened him for drill. Archie was shaking him.

  “Better get up! No tolerance for sluggards in the regular army,” Archie said, hurrying off toward the makeshift parade ground.

  Will groaned and wished for coffee.

  This pattern repeated for several nights. Others made captures. Two of their company were wounded. Then one evening, Morgan came to Will’s tent.

  “Will, you’ve been doing a great job. I want to let you know—headquarters has decided our unit is making a difference. Tonight, I want you to rest and get some well-deserved sleep. We’ll rotate and give some of the other men experience. Tomorrow, see Duke—he’ll have a surprise for you.

  “Yes, sir!” Will grinned. “Could you take Archie out tonight, sir? He snores somethin’ fierce!”

  Morgan grinned back. “Don’t see why not.”

  Will wondered what surprise the morning would bring.

  ✳ ✳ ✳

  Will felt heat and smelled smoke. His eyes flew open to see flames traveling down a length of paper toward him, threatening to catch his tent on fire. He jumped up, knocking the pole loose that supported the tent. It crashed down around him. There was loud laughter, and then water drenched everything.

  Will emerged spluttering and ready to fight.

  “What’s going on?” he demanded angrily. “Can’t a fella get some sleep?”

  It was full daylight, past time for normal reveille.

  “Aww, mama’s baby needs his beauty sleep! Here that, Jesse?” said Ben Drake. “We just thought we’d warm up the morning for you.”

  To one side, Will saw Archie standing with a bucket, which had doused the fire. He took in the situation, quickly deciding he could be angry and make things worse, or he could join in the joke.

  “Guess you did, at that, Ben. Since you made the fire, where’s the breakfast? It’s the least they can do, eh, Archie?”

  The tension broke and they all laughed together.

  “Eggs and bacon comin’ up, Crump. We, uh, helped a farmer that had too much last night.”

  Tom Logwood came over and helped Will pick up the tent and his belongings. “We decided to let you sleep, wake up the rest of the company quietly. As soon as you’ve had breakfast, you’re to report to Duke.”

  Will soon felt better with some coffee, eggs, salt pork and bacon inside him. He dressed carefully and reported to headquarters.

  “Private Crump, reporting as ordered.” He stood stiffly at attention.

  “At ease, Private. I have some news I think you’ll like. First, the regiment has been allotted new horses. The commanders think our little nightly forays have yielded worthwhile results and want to encourage our activity as cavalry. The horses are ones judged too small, old, or tired for hauling wagons and artillery. Still, there are some strong, fast ones in the group. I’ve seen to it that you’ll get a Morgan gelding, Toby, about fifteen hands. He’s yours, so take care of him. You won’t have to draw random mounts for assignments anymore.”

  “Thank you, sir!”

  “You’ve earned it—but you’ll probably get more assignments because of it. Second, I’d like you to test a new type of rifle we’re trying out. If it works well for you, you can keep it as well. But it will change your assignments, so that you do more escort and long range shooting. In future engagements, we’ll be up against artillery. The Whitworth rifle, in the right hands, can shoot up to two thousand yards. Your job would be to take out the Federal artillery soldiers. Do you think you can do that? It’s very important, and will save lives in our company.”

  Will felt troubled about shooting men who were no direct threat to himself, but answered with only slight hesitation, “Yes, sir!”

  “Good man. Last, the men have decided to vote you Corporal. You’ll learn from Tom about your extra duties. That’s all.”

  “Yes, sir!” Will was elated with his promotion. The other men must feel he was doing well.

  ✳ ✳ ✳

  December 1861

  A few days later, just after reveille, Will received a summons from James West, the second lieutenant.

  “Corporal Crump, reporting as ordered, sir.” Will stood at attention and waited.

  “Congratulations on your promotion, Crump. We’re doing a daytime scout. Captain Morgan requested you for the mission—but it’s completely volunteer. If you’d rather not go, you don’t have to.”

  “Sir, with respect, I should go.”

  “Excellent. There will be a few volunteers from the Tennessee cavalry as well. Be ready in half an hour.”

  Will went to tend his horse and inspect his gear. A few minutes later, he saddled up and joined the group of about fifty who were heading out on patrol. For the first hour, they saw and heard little. Under other circumstances, Will would have thought they were just a group of friends out for a ride in the crisp November morning. Will stayed near the rear of the group, as he usually did on these scouting expeditions. The scabbards on his saddle held the old Springfield on one side, and his new Whitworth rifle and scope on the other side. Morgan and Duke were at the front.

  Suddenly the command was whispered down the line to halt. Someone spotted Federals on the road. Everyone dismounted and moved into the thickets at the side of the road. A few men in the front gathered the horses. Will went with them further to the rear, and then mounted a small rise where he had cover, but a good view of the road near the Nolin River.

  Morgan, alone, moved forward about one hundred yards in front of his troops, to a little house at the side of the road, and went inside. The Federals kept coming down the road, their bayonets reflecting the sun. Morgan slipped out of the house and back to the main body. Will put his scope on the mounted Federal officer, but just as he was about to fire, Morgan stepped out into the road in full view and shot the officer with his pistol.

  The Federals were greatly confused and surprised. Morgan was able to get back to cover, and the Federals likewise retreated. Taking Morgan’s volley as permission to open fire, Will and the eight or so others with him opened fire on the Federal troops. A few dropped, but most made it to the safety of the little house Morgan had come from, or a knoll with downed trees. There was no coordination, no plan of attack. For the next ten to fifteen minutes, b
oth sides fired spontaneously, each man following his own orders. Morgan and one or two others crept closer to the Federal lines and killed several men. Will saw through his scope a Federal rise and take aim at Morgan, so he quickly guessed the range and fired. The Federal dropped, shot in the chest. In another few minutes, the rest of the company retreated to Will’s position. They heard from scouts that Federal reinforcements were coming, and others were attempting to encircle them. Morgan ordered everyone to horse, and they escaped.

  ✳ ✳ ✳

  Will had bad dreams that night. He woke in a cold sweat. The temperature outside the tent was freezing. He and Archie had a small fire pot that kept a few coals burning without producing much smoke. They kept that inside the tent, with a bucket of water just outside. It wasn’t much, but with the tent flaps tied together, blankets, and heat from their bodies, it kept them from freezing. In his dream, the Federal soldier fell repeatedly. Before morning, the dream changed and it was Morgan falling, as Will failed to shoot in time. He wondered if the Federal soldier had family, maybe a wife and children. He shoved the thought aside, thinking how the company would suffer if Morgan were not there to rally them.

  Christmas was around the corner. Will had heard nothing from his family. He wondered what was happening to them. He wondered if his father and Joe might be in a Union tent on some hillside, perhaps not that far away. He resolved to attend church the next day and confess. He rationalized, thinking that King David from the Bible was a man of war who killed hundreds in battle—yet didn’t the Bible also say that David was a man after God’s own heart, a friend of God? Hadn’t he gotten on this course by following God’s command to take vows seriously, and not to lie?

  In the next few days, a new group from Shelbyville and another from Louisville joined Morgan’s command. With so many now reporting to him, Will saw him less frequently, though he always seemed to retain a particular affection for those who were original members of the Rifles. Will worked with some of the newer men on shooting and riding.