Drummer Boy at Bull Run

by Gilbert L. Morris

  He spoke with enthusiasm, and when he was finished, he cried out, “Which of you young men will join in our noble cause? Do you have a soul to free the slaves from their shackles of bondage?”

  Loud cries arose, and Major Bates looked at the crowd with satisfaction.

  “My sergeant is here to enlist you. Your tour of duty will be for ninety days—and by that time we’ll have crushed the Rebels into the dust!”

  Leah watched as a line formed instantly, and she said, “Look, Pa! It’s Royal!”

  Mr. Carter had seen his son earlier and had known this would happen. He said nothing.

  Royal finally turned from the recruiting table, his face flushed with excitement. When he saw his father and sister, he came to them at once. “I wanted to talk to you before I joined, Pa,” he faltered. “But you knew this was coming, I think.”

  “Yes, Royal. Now you must be the best soldier you can. It won’t be easy in the army, but you’ll have Jesus with you.”

  Royal was obviously relieved. “I’m glad you understand, Pa,” he said. “Now, sister, let’s go get some of those refreshments Major Bates has furnished!”

  All over the land the scene that had occurred at Pineville was duplicated. Young men rushed to enlist—most of them fearing that the war would be over before they could see action.

  President Lincoln called for 75,000 volunteers for three months. In the streets of the large cities, men surged to the colors. The whole North rose as one man.

  Everywhere the drum and fife thrilled the air with their stirring call. Hastily formed companies marched to camps, and the measured tread of soldiers filled the land.

  And as it was in the North, so it was in the South. Four more states joined the Confederacy—Virginia, Arkansas, North Carolina, and Tennessee.

  From the mountains and valleys of the South came a shout of fierce resolve to capture Washington, the capital of the North. Plowboys left their mules in the field, and clerks forsook their ledgers to join the newly formed companies that were organized daily.

  And in both North and South, war preparations were made in a holiday atmosphere. Both sides were confident of victory, and neither had any idea of the terrible bloodshed that lay ahead.

  Almost no one stopped to think that thousands of the strong young men who rushed to join the two armies would lie in shallow graves before the year was out.

  * * *

  “Ma—what’s wrong with Pa?”

  Leah and Mrs. Carter were sitting on the front porch. Her mother had been reading aloud from the Bible, but Leah had not been able to pay attention.

  Mrs. Carter looked up with surprise, then slowly closed the worn Book.

  Leah shook her head. “He’s worried all the time—and he’s gone so much.”

  “He’s troubled, Leah. He feels useless because he can’t do anything to help.”

  “With the war, Ma?”

  “Yes.” Running her hand over the leather cover of the Bible, her mother added, “All the young men are gone to fight, but your pa’s too old to do that—and he’s not well.”

  “He shouldn’t feel bad,” Leah insisted. “None of the other older men are going.”

  “Your pa’s always wanted to be helpful. Now he can’t—and it’s hurting him.”

  Leah said no more, but two days later her father had an announcement for the family. They were seated at the table, and when the meal was over he said, “I’ve got something to tell you.”

  Leah was feeding Morena, and, in the sudden silence, the little girl looked around, her eyes going from face to face. Sarah had half risen to start clearing the table, but she sat down again when she saw her father’s face. “What is it, Pa?” she asked.

  Clearing his throat, Mr. Carter said slowly, “I guess you’ve all noticed that I’ve been troubled lately.”

  “You’ve been feeling poorly, Daniel,” his wife said quickly.

  “It’s not that. I’ve been feeling called to do something—but I couldn’t see what it was.” Taking a deep breath, he looked around the table, studying each face. “Now I know what I’ve got to do.”

  Mrs. Carter stared at her husband fearfully.

  He seemed to read her thoughts. “I’m too old to join the army,” he said, “but I’m not too old to help the soldiers.”

  “Help them how?”

  “I’m going to be a sutler.”

  Leah piped up. “What’s a sutler, Pa?”

  “The army has to have supplies, Leah,” he said. “The army takes care of equipment such as muskets and uniforms—but the soldiers need personal things.” His face grew bright as he explained. “Sutlers follow the army with wagons filled with things the soldiers need—paper to write letters on, needles and thread, candy—things like that.”

  At once Leah’s mother said, “Why, Daniel Carter, you can’t mean to become a traveling peddler!”

  “Well, it’s more than that, Mary.” He paused, then said, “The soldiers need more than candy and paper. What I’m going to do is carry tracts and Bibles along with the other supplies. Those young men need the gospel—the Word of God. And I’m going to see that they get it!”

  Instantly Mrs. Carter and Sarah began to argue with him. They thought he was not fitted to endure the hardships of such a life. “Why, you wouldn’t last a month, Pa!” Sarah exclaimed. “You’d get sick, and who’d take care of you?”

  He listened as the two spoke but finally said, “I know you’re right about my being in poor shape. But I feel that God has called me to do this thing—and when God commands a thing, He’ll take care of those who obey.”

  That was just the beginning of the matter, however. For the next two weeks the house was filled with strain. Leah’s father began at once to prepare for his new “mission,” as he called it. He hired extra help for the farm and made arrangements for the crops. He spent considerable time buying a wagon and having a carpenter convert it into a sutler’s wagon.

  Leah watched this being done and was fascinated by the shelves and the bed that fitted cleverly inside. She was aware that her mother and sister were opposed to everything about her father’s idea, but she was intrigued with it.

  Finally the wagon was finished, and Leah accompanied her father to the county seat to buy supplies. They had to camp overnight beside a stream, and she cooked supper over a campfire.

  As her father ate the last of the stew she’d made, he glanced at her with a smile. “Pet, you’re a fine cook! I wish I could take you with me.”

  Leah took a deep breath. “Pa, I am going with you!”

  He stared at her, then laughed. “Why, you can’t do that—though I wish you could.”

  “If God’s going to take care of you, He’ll take care of me too.” She came over and sat beside him. Picking up his hand, she held it in both of hers. “Pa, all my life I’ve heard you tell how the Lord told you to do something or other. I never understood—because He never said anything to me.”

  “He will when you—”

  “Pa, I’m trying to tell you—God’s been telling me to go with you.”

  “Oh, Pet, you just want to go!”

  “Yes, I do—but ever since you told us what you were going to do, something’s been happening to me.” The firelight was reflected in her eyes, and she struggled with what was inside her. “I … I’ve been waking up every night, Pa,” she whispered. “And all I could think of was going with you! It’s not like anything I would think of—it must be something God wants me to do. I won’t let you go alone!”

  He sat very still, his hand held by her strong hands. He listened as she spoke, and finally he said, “I don’t know, daughter …”

  The two of them sat there for a long time, not speaking. Finally he hugged her, saying, “I’ll pray on it—and your mother will have to pray with me.”

  When they arrived back at the farm, he warned Leah, “Say nothing to your ma about this thing, Pet. Not yet.”

  “No, Pa.”

  For the next two days Leah almost ached
with anxiety. Her father said nothing, and her mother did not mention the matter. Leah could see that both of them were troubled, and she became convinced that there was no hope. Her father was due to leave soon, and when the days passed without a word, Leah cried bitter tears into her pillow.

  Early one morning, Leah’s mother came to her room. She had been crying, Leah saw at once.

  “Leah, your father and I have agreed.” She put her arm around Leah and kissed her. “We agree that it’s God’s will for you to go on this trip—”

  “Oh, Ma!” Leah hugged her mother, and the two of them talked for a long time. “Ma, I’ll take care of him,” the girl said earnestly.

  “I know you will, Leah,” Mary Carter said gently. She stroked her daughter’s fine blonde hair. “God has convinced me that He wants you with him just for that.”

  4

  A New Arrival

  Richmond was like a swarming hive of bees—or so it seemed to Jeff. All day the streets were packed with men and women intent on building an army. Officers shouldered their way through the crowds, and their dashing uniforms added color to the scene. To young Jeff Majors, moving from the placid farm in Kentucky to Richmond was like nothing he’d ever known.

  Dodging between a pair of colonels dressed in gray, he muttered, “‘Scuse me!” then darted out into the street. It was filled with buggies, saddle horses, and wagons loaded with all manner of freight but was less crowded than the sidewalks that ran in front of the shops.

  I wish Leah could see all this! The thought of the girl brought a moment’s sadness to him, for, despite the furious activities of Richmond, he missed Leah Carter.

  Putting the thought behind him, he walked rapidly, arriving finally at a hardware store with a wooden stairway that led to a second story.

  Jeff glanced at the small sign that said DR. HARTLEY BOWDEN and bounded up to the second floor. Entering the office, he saw that the worn chairs were filled with waiting patients—all men except for one middle-aged woman. Good grief! I’ll never get to see the doctor—not with this crowd!

  However, as he stood there the inner door opened, and a short, elderly man stepped out. He glared at Jeff through a pair of thick spectacles, then asked sharply, “Well, Jeff, what is it?”

  Jeff glanced around the room, embarrassed by the stares of the patients. “Well—it’s my ma, Doctor Bowden. She’s poorly.”

  “Have her come in.”

  “I—I don’t think she’ll be able to do that, sir.”

  Dr. Bowden stared at the boy, his sharp black eyes intent. “Very well. I’ll be there in two hours.”

  “Thank you, Doctor!”

  Jeff wheeled and raced out of the office. He cleared the steps three at a time.

  Reaching the street, he hesitated for one moment, then turned left and made his way toward the edge of town. The shops gave way to small factories, then to houses, and finally to more or less open country.

  Jeff moved faster as he ran toward the mass of tents that dotted the landscape, and soon he was in the heart of the major encampment of the Confederate Army.

  The camp seemed even busier than Richmond itself. Thousands of men milled around drill fields, horse-drawn cannons stirred huge clouds of dust, aides rushed through the camp with messages. Jeff loved it all!

  As he made his way to his father’s company, he was conscious of sergeants barking orders like yapping dogs, and the rattle of musket fire from the rifle range. Voices came to him—the soft slur of Southern voices peppered with French from a ragtag Louisiana unit. The air was thick with smells—cooking meat, dust, horses, cattle, and always the acrid odor of latrines.

  When Jeff reached the large tent that served as regimental headquarters, he saw his father standing with another officer in front of a tall table. He stopped abruptly and waited, and soon his father looked up and saw him. “Jeff—come over here.”

  When Jeff came up to the two men, his father said, “General, my son Jeff. Jeff, this is Colonel Jackson.”

  The colonel wore a forage cap pulled down low on his brow. He had the palest blue eyes Jeff had ever seen.

  “I’m glad to meet you, Jeff,” he said, extending his hand.

  Jeff stammered, “And I’m glad to meet you, sir.”

  “I was with your father in West Point—did you know that?”

  “Yes, sir! He told me.”

  “Jeff, what are you doing here?”

  “Well, sir, it’s Ma. She’s—not doing well. I went by and asked Dr. Bowden to come. Was that all right?”

  “Yes, it was. Colonel Jackson, could I have permission to go to my wife?”

  “Of course, Lieutenant.” Jackson nodded. “And I will pray with you that she will be touched with the healing hand of God.”

  “Thank you, Colonel! Jeff, come along.”

  Jeff followed his father to the corral, where he borrowed a horse. Jeff swung up behind, and the lieutenant kicked the horse into a fast gallop.

  They said little, but Jeff asked once, “Is Ma going to be all right, Pa?”

  “I pray she will, Jeff.”

  The answer gave him little comfort.

  When they reached the tiny frame house, he waited outside. Pacing up and down nervously, he tried to convince himself that his mother would be all right. But a nagging fear kept gnawing at him.

  Finally Dr. Bowden drove up in his buggy, and Jeff ran to hold the team. “My father’s here now, Doctor.”

  Doctor Bowden grunted his thanks and disappeared into the house.

  Jeff stroked the noses of the horses, then went to get some water in a pail. As the animals drank thirstily, he could not help worrying about his mother. She’d been sick ever since they’d left Kentucky. She’ll be all right after the baby comes, he told himself and finally went to sit on the small porch.

  Time seemed to drag. At last his father came out. There was a tense look on his face, and he said, “Jeff, your mother’s not doing well. I want you to go bring Tom back. He’ll have to get permission, but I’ve written a note. Give it to Major Greer. Take the horse.”

  “Yes, sir.” As Jeff took the note he noticed that his father’s lips were drawn into a tight line. “What did the doctor say, Pa?”

  “He said that your mother—is not doing well. But we’ll pray that she’ll be better. Now, go get Tom!”

  Jeff ran to the horse, swung into the saddle, then galloped down the road.

  When he found his brother, Tom was eating supper.

  “Tom, Pa says for you to come. Here’s a note for Major Greer.”

  “Is it Ma, Jeff?”

  “She’s—she’s doing real bad, Tom.”

  Major Greer readily granted permission, and the two made their way back to the house. As they reached the porch, the door opened, and Nelson Majors stepped outside. “Your mother …”

  When his father paused, Jeff whispered, “Is she dead, Pa!”

  “No—but the doctor fears she won’t live.”

  It was the longest night of Jeff’s life—and his brother and father suffered as well. They sat outside on the porch, hoping that the doctor was wrong, but when Doctor Bowden came outside just before dawn, he said quietly, “The child is here—a little girl.”

  “My wife?” Lieutenant Majors demanded.

  Doctor Bowden hesitated, then shook his head. “She’s very weak. You’d better go in to her.”

  The three of them moved inside and into the bedroom. Jeff saw the baby his mother held in her arms, and then his father fell to his knees beside her. “Irene …” he whispered.

  “Nelson …” Her voice was very faint, and her face was pale as chalk. “We have … a little girl …”

  “Yes! She’s beautiful—just like you!”

  “Her name is … Esther.” Then she looked up and saw her boys. “Tom—Jeff.”

  They came to her, and she reached out a thin hand. “Take care of your … little sister … promise me!”

  “We will, Ma!” Jeff could not see for the tears that burned in his e
yes. He held his mother’s hand.

  For a time she spoke with them. They waited helplessly as she began to slip away, and finally she said, “I’m going to be with Jesus. I’ll meet you all in heaven …”

  Ten minutes later Jeff saw her eyes close and knew that she was gone. He looked at the baby, which his father now picked up. “We’ll take care of her, Ma!” he whispered.

  * * *

  The funeral took place the next day—and the struggle to care for a newborn child began at once.

  Esther was left temporarily with Mrs. Rena Barlow, the wife of C Company’s sergeant. Her own baby had been born only a week earlier, and she’d said, “Just leave her with me, Lieutenant. I’ll be glad to take care of her.”

  After the funeral, they went back to the small house, and the three of them sat around the table. All were in a state of shock, but something had to be done.

  “How are we going to take care of her, Pa?” Tom asked his father.

  “I don’t know, Tom.” Lieutenant Majors was haggard and could not seem to think. “We can leave her with Mrs. Barlow for a while.”

  “But not for long,” Tom said. “Sooner or later the army will go to fight. What will happen then?”

  “I just don’t know, Tom,” his father said. “We’ll have to pray that God will open a way.”

  A week went by, and Jeff did all he could. His father and brother were drilling hard, for a battle was shaping up and their officers were demanding. Jeff spent time with Esther at the Barlows’ house, and he quickly learned to care for her. She was a healthy baby and slept most of the time.

  Every time his father came home, Jeff saw that he was under more strain.

  “I wish I had brothers or sisters, but I don’t,” he told Jeff. “Your mother didn’t either. We don’t have any close kin to send her to.”

  Jeff could not get that out of his mind, and one night he stayed awake thinking for a long time. When he was almost asleep, an idea seemed to jump into his head. At once he sat upright, his mind working.

  The next day he wrote a letter, posted it, then waited for several days. I guess it was a crazy thing to do, he told himself, but we’ve got to do something!