On To Richmond

by Ginny Dye

  “Yes, ma’am. You be careful. I don’t want to have to face yo’ daddy if somethin’ done happen to you.”

  Carrie waved and began to walk up the steep hill. It was impossible to move fast because of the crush of people, but at least she was moving. Ducking her head, she wove in and out of the people as fast as she could.

  Suddenly she was bumped hard from behind and almost lost her balance. Stumbling, she managed to grab onto a lamp post at the last moment and kept herself from falling. Indignant, she whirled around to speak to whoever had been so rude. Richmond may have changed, but surely there must be some limits.

  She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, a well-dressed man of middle age, grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “Let it be, ma’am.”

  Carrie stared up into his mild blue eyes and tried to yank her arm free. “Did you see what he did?”

  Just then voices caught her attention.

  “What did you say, buddy?” The voice was tight with anger.

  Carrie quickly scanned the crowd and located the speaker. He was a young man, barely out of his teens, clad in the buckskin garb of the western Virginia mountains. He had taken a defensive stance, his legs spread wide, his hands loose at his sides.

  An elegantly dressed man of similar age, with a haughty face and an expensive air about him, answered his question. “I said I would rather be home than here fighting Virginia’s battle for her!” His tone was both refined and hostile. His accent identified him as a South Carolinian.

  “I should say you have some nerve, rich boy!” the buckskin man retaliated coldly. “It was you South Carolinians who started all this trouble. Now it’s being left to Virginia to settle it for you.”

  “You calling us cowards, mountain boy?” The words were delivered with deadly quiet.

  Carrie gasped as the Carolinian reached for his waistline and pulled out a sharp knife.

  “You care to back up that fancy talk with some action, mountain boy?”

  “Have it your way, rich boy!” With a quick movement, the buckskin man produced his own wicked looking knife.

  Carrie slowly backed away, unable to take her eyes from the scene in front of her. She had never seen such a thing happen in Richmond in broad daylight. Oh, the city had its fair share of violence, but it didn’t usually happen during the day, and it certainly didn’t take place in the middle of a crowded street. Angry men usually took their arguments to the dueling fields located on the outskirts of town.

  The two men began to circle cautiously, all other pedestrians giving them a wide berth. Some stopped to stare and watch, but most pushed their way on by. That fascinated and horrified Carrie even more than the fight. Had Richmond actually become that immune to violence?

  Just as the buckskin man pulled back his arm, the fight was over.

  “That will be all, boys.” A tall policeman appeared to tower over the two men. “Y’all got some fighting to do, but it ain’t here in the streets of Richmond. Where you two boys headed?” His firm, no-nonsense voice did the job of cooling off the two men.

  The Carolinian was the first to speak. “You’re right, officer. I am due to ship out in less than an hour. I was on my way to the station.”

  The policeman scowled. “I think you should be anywhere other than where you are right now. Why aren’t you with your unit?”

  Both men, without answering, edged away and melted into the crowd.

  Shaking his head and muttering under his voice, the policeman continued on his rounds.

  Carrie stared after them and then turned to the kind man who had pulled her away and was still standing by her side. “Thank you.” Now that she had time for a good look, she was instantly drawn to this friendly looking man. His warm blue eyes spoke of a deep capacity for caring. He reminded her of her father.

  “You’re welcome, ma’am. You need to be careful. It’s not a real good idea for ladies to be roaming the streets alone right now.”

  “Why, I’ve walked the streets of Richmond ever since I was a child,” she protested.

  “Live her now?” he asked keenly.

  “I’m from a plantation east of the city,” Carrie admitted.

  “You’ll find your city has changed a lot,” he observed wryly. “Being the capital of a nation at war can do that.”

  Carrie stared at him. “Does that happen often?”

  “Fights? Not as much now that the troops are on the front. You got to give the boys a little break though.” He hesitated and then answered her questioning look. “These boys been pulled away from home, brought down here to drill and march till they drop, and now they’re being shipped off to fight. A lot of them don’t really know what the war is all about, they’re just doing their patriotic duty and thinking it will all be over soon.” The disdain in his voice was obvious, but the tone was still kind.

  Carrie liked him even more. “Who are you, sir?” She astonished her own self at her directness, but suddenly it was important that she know who he was.

  “Pastor Marcus Anthony,” he replied, bowing slightly.

  “You’re a pastor?” Carrie asked in quick surprise.

  “You’re surprised?” he asked in an amused tone.

  Carrie struggled to recover. “You just don’t... I mean you don’t...”

  “Look like one? Thank you,” he replied with a smile.

  “No. I mean, yes...” Firmly Carrie pulled herself together. “Excuse me for sounding like a school girl. No, you don’t look like a pastor, but I find I like that.” She forgot for a moment that she was in a hurry. “I’m sorry for sounding so flustered. I guess the recent encounter left me a little shaken.” Suddenly she remembered why she had been hurrying up the sidewalk. “Excuse me, Pastor Anthony, I must be going.” Not waiting for a reply, she turned and continued her rapid stride, praying she still had time to make it.

  She had just arrived at the train station when she heard the band began to play. Her father had told her that departing troops were sent off with great fanfare. Not caring who glared at her, she edged and shoved her way to the front of the mass of people surrounding the platform. She had just gotten situated when the first troops moved into sight.

  Carrie’s heart caught at the young faces, so serious above their smart gray uniforms. Why, some of them were hardly more than boys! Surely there mothers must be frantic with worry for them. It was impossible not to see the determination and bravery shining in their eyes. Many of them searched the crowd eagerly for a familiar face, smiling brightly and pulling their shoulders back even farther when they found one.

  “Halt!” A strong voice rose above the crowd to direct the troops.

  Carrie recognized the voice at once. Her eyes flew to the erect figure bringing up the rear of the column. As his men clicked smartly to a standstill, Lieutenant Robert Borden strode to the front.

  Carrie’s heart beat faster as she looked at him. His tall, muscular frame had taken on an erect military bearing. Every line of his face was set with determination. He had always been handsome. Now he had become distinguished as well. His dark eyes snapped as he reviewed his troops.

  As the troops remained at attention, the band began to play again. The crowd sang along as the familiar strains of “Dixie” filled the air. The sense of pride and expectancy was a palpable thing all must feel and almost see. Carrie could not help feeling it herself as she gazed at Robert. That he believed in what he was doing, no one could doubt. His eyes were filled with pride and courage as he looked out over the men he would be leading in battle.

  Battle! As the word surged to the front of her brain, Carrie was gripped with a sense of fear and urgency. She looked around the crowd and noticed the tear-stained faces full of pride and love. Families - come to see their loved ones off.

  “Go get them, old man!” a strong voice sang out.

  As Carrie watched, Robert’s face lighted with a grin that twisted her heart. Following his gaze, she saw another young man standing on the sidelines. The familiar lines o
f his face said he could only be Robert’s brother, Abe. She was glad he had someone there to see him off. She resisted the impulse to call out to him.

  “All aboard!”

  Carrie’s attention was drawn back to the train as the troops began to file on. The crowd chapped and cheered, and the band continued to blare forth its music as each man marched smartly into his car. Only when the last one was aboard did Carrie look toward Robert.

  Across the span on the loading platform, their eyes locked. She had no idea how long he had been watching her. She drew her breath in sharply and felt the color rise in her cheeks. Still, she did not look away. As she watched, the boyish bravado forged into courage, flickered for just a moment. Once again she saw the look only she had ever seen - the flash of vulnerability that lit his eyes and twisted her heart.

  “All Aboard!”

  The whistle of the train accompanied the stern reminder that in moments this train would be heading for the front.

  As she thought of Robert in battle, Carrie’s heart conquered her mind. She could not marry him. That did not mean he had to leave without knowing she loved him. She quickly turned to the man next to her. “Do you have a knife?” she asked urgently.

  “A knife, ma’am?”

  “Please, I don’t have time to explain. Do you have a knife?”

  He looked at her oddly, but the desperate tone of her voice must have won him over. Reaching to his waistline, he pulled one out.

  “Thank you!” Carrie grabbed it, pulled a lock of her hair out of the tightly coiled braid, and cut it off. Handing the knife back to the astonished man, she lifted her skirts, gripped the hair tightly, and ran across the platform.

  Robert was standing, one foot on the step, watching her run to him, a smile on his face. The train began to pull away just as she reached him.

  “Good-bye, Robert.”

  His dark eyes gazed down into hers, but there was no time, even for a hug. The train was picking up speed and pulling away, and Robert was forced to swing up onto the step. Carrie jumped forward and quickly pressed her hair into his hand. “I’m counting on you to win this one,” she said in a tremulous voice.

  Her mind flashed back to the first time she had presented him with a lock of her hair - the day of the Blackwell tournament. He had told her he fell in love with her that day - that moment. The tournament had been child’s play. War was not a game. It was deadly.

  “I love you, Robert.”

  She had just enough time to utter the words before the train pulled him out of the range of hearing. The crowds continued to cheer and wave as Carrie stood and watched Robert grow smaller. Only when he was out of sight, did she turn away.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Robert twisted and squirmed, trying to find a comfortable position on the hard ground. This night, more than any of the nine that had passed before him since he had left the train at Manasass Junction, sleep eluded him. His heart and mind refused to be stilled. He knew that tonight, more than any other, he needed sleep. The moon was high in the sky when he finally gave up the effort and pulled himself up into a sitting position against the tree that might mean the difference between life and death the next day.

  Robert gazed out over the bright landscape as he tried to envision what the morrow would bring. If a man had a good enough imagination he could believe that all was right in the world. The sky was crystal clear, the moon bright and full. Its brightness cast shadows from the towering trees that were sheltering the position of their regiment. He peered around the big oak and watched the moonlight glisten off the waters of Bull Run. Sparkling particles in the stone bridge that spanned the river caught the brightness and caused the bridge to stand in stark contrast. Was it possible that in just a few hours the beauty of the scene before him would be destroyed by the roar of cannon and the shouts of contending men?

  “Lieutenant?”

  The voice sounding beside Robert was little more than a whisper. “Yes, Hobbs?” he whispered back. Robert had grown fond of the sixteen year old who had shown up from the hills of western Virginia, eager to do battle for the South.

  “You reckon it’s true, Lieutenant? That all the waiting will be over soon?”

  Robert nodded grimly. “I reckon it’s true. All the stalling and waiting is past. I believe we will face the enemy tomorrow.”

  There was a long pause. Robert could envision Hobbs’ young, freckled face screwed up in intense thought, his brown eyes flashing thoughtfully under the thatch of rust-colored hair. The youth had worked harder than anyone to be ready for what would happen the next day. He had never once complained during the long, hot drills and had always been willing to do more.

  “You reckon we’ll see much action? Seems kinda like we’re stuck up out of the way here.”

  Robert smiled. He knew how Hobbs felt. He, too, had been keenly disappointed when his regiment had been attached to Colonel Evan’s brigade. He would have preferred to be in the thick of the battle. Everyone was sure General McDowell would focus his attack on Mitchell’s Ford. “We all will play an important role, Hobbs. We just have to be ready when the time comes.” He fervently hoped he was right. He hated the thought they would stand watch in their woods the next day, simply listening to the sounds of what many thought would be the only battle of the war. He didn’t share that sentiment with them - he simply wanted to be a part of this first great fight.

  The silence grew even longer. Robert wondered if Hobbs had drifted off to sleep. He allowed his thoughts to drift to Carrie.

  “You scared, Lieutenant?” Hobbs’ whisper broke the night once again.

  Robert opened his mouth to speak and then stopped. He supposed he should be the strong, commanding leader and say he had no fear and that he was confident all would go well. Unbidden, Carrie’s face, with her direct eyes and open honesty, flashed before him. Tell him the truth.....

  “Sure, I’m scared, Hobbs. Who wouldn’t be?”

  “Really?” the young voice gasped.

  “Really,” Robert said firmly. “We’ve done all we can to get ready for this battle, but nothing ever goes just the way you plan it. And one thing is for sure.” He paused before he continued. “Not everyone is going to get out of this alive. That’s just a sad fact of war. How do I know it’s not going to be me? How do I know it’s not going to be someone I care about?”

  He could almost feel Hobbs’ brown eyes boring into him as he continued. “There isn’t anything wrong with fear. Every great person has to face fear. The important thing is not to let it win out over you. You have to face your fears and not back down. Fear can actually be a good thing...”

  “How’s that?” Hobbs’ voice was skeptical.

  “Fear can make you sharp. It can keep you from relaxing and taking things for granted. It can make you strive to be the best you can so that the thing you fear won’t beat you. Fear can make you stronger when you realize you have conquered it.”

  There was a short silence before Hobbs’ voice broke in again. “And fear can make you turn to God. That’s what my grandma said before I left home. She told me if I was ever afraid to just talk to God.” Another long pause. “I’ve been talking to God tonight, Lieutenant.”

  “Got that right!”

  “Me, too!”

  “Amen!”

  The soft chorus of whispers sounding from the night was the first evidence that anyone else was listening in on their conversation. It also meant Robert didn’t need to respond to what Hobbs had said. He realized the same anxiety that was keeping him awake was doing the same to the others. The thought gave him comfort.

  One man’s rough voice broke into his thoughts. “I don’t think I realized until tonight what all this drilling and marching was about. It’s right scary to know there are thousands of men on the other side of that river who are ready to try and kill us. I been trying to get things right.” The voice paused and then continued, a little softer. “I’ve done said the Lord’s Prayer to myself seventy-five times. My mama always told me th
at was a good thing to do. I figure the more I say it, the holier I will get. Maybe the Lord will try a little harder to keep me safe.”

  Hobbs’ laughed softly. “Tell the lieutenant what else you done, Pickins.”

  The darkness proved to be a confessional.

  Pickins continued in an embarrassed and slightly defiant tone. “I done threw away my deck of cards. I promised God I’d be a good moral man, I did! Told him I wouldn’t grumble about menial duties again, that I’d go to church and even quit smoking. Why, I told him if I survived the war that I would become a minister and preach the gospel!”

  Robert smiled as soft chuckles surrounded him. These were good men. “Good for you, Pickins.”

  Silence fell again as every man lost himself in his own thoughts. The moon was slowly gliding westward. Katydids and tree frogs kept up a steady chorus as if trying to serenade the tired men into a few hours of sleep. Robert took advantage of the quiet to let his thoughts return to Carrie. How wonderful it had been to see her at the train station. Surely she had been there just to send him off. Thoughts of her had filled his quiet moments. The look on her face when she had told him she loved him... The feel of her hand when she had pressed her lock of hair into his own hand... the sight of her watching him until he was out of sight.

  Had it all been just because he was going to battle? The images that flashed through his mind both thrilled him and tormented him. She loved him, but she wouldn’t marry him. His fists clenched in frustration as he stifled a groan.

  An owl hooting startled him, causing him to jump and peer around his tree. Was that the beginning of dawn starting to creep over the horizon? Trying to control the nervous twisting of his stomach, he turned his thoughts back to Carrie. Instead, his thoughts returned to his men’s comments about God - about giving their fear to Him. He had wanted to laugh at their comments - tell them they were wasting their time. Only the knowledge that he was responsible for keeping their morale up had stilled his tongue. His stomach twisted again, but this time in anger.