by Ginny Dye
Once again, the tears flowed down Carrie’s face. How had Aunt Abby known her heart so well? How was it possible that an answer to her inner struggle could arrive at just the right time? Carrie knew the answer. And her heart was thankful.
How I wish I could sit across from you and ask you all the questions I long to. I wonder if you are still on the plantation. I wonder if your father has discovered your little deception yet. I wonder what you have done with your love for Robert Borden. So many questions - and no answers. I find myself giving you to God on a daily basis. It is all I can do.
I thought you might wonder what has happened with Matthew. His heart has been so torn by the coming of war. I’m sure you have heard of the talk of western Virginia and its desire to pull away and be a separate state from the rest of Virginia. Matthew firmly believes that the diverse opinions are irreconcilable. Though his roots are in Virginia, he cannot bring himself to fight against the North he has grown to love. Neither can he stand the thought of bearing arms against family and friends. Matthew is one of the lucky ones. So many are not being given a choice in the matter. They are expected to fight. Matthew, however, has been assigned as a war correspondent for the Philadelphia Enquirer. He feels it is the best solution for him in the midst of an impossible situation. He is gone much of the time, but he is still kind enough to stop in occasionally. He has become like a son to me.
Carrie smiled as she thought of Matthew. She had liked him the minute she laid eyes on him. His ready smile and friendly, open nature had made him many friends. He and Robert had been college roommates in Philadelphia. Their friendship had remained strong even though they had stood on separate sides of the issue now dividing the country. It relieved her to know Robert would not have to battle against his friend.
I find myself looking back with such longing for the carefree days of last summer when you arrived on my doorstep with Natalie and Sally. It seems like another lifetime now. Speaking of my niece, Natalie, brings up another point of sorrow for me. My family can simply not understand why I have not returned home to stand with Virginia. It horrifies them that I have chosen to remain in Philadelphia. Explanations of the necessity of being here to run my business have fallen on deaf ears. It infuriates them even further that I have not taken sides in this horrible war. Of course, I am no longer able to have communication with them. I hardly think they would welcome a mail carrier from the Underground Railroad!
Once again Carrie laughed. Aunt Abby still had her sense of humor intact. Or at least she had six weeks ago. How was she feeling now that the first major battle was about to take place?
I would love to ramble on, but I must have this letter ready to go in just a few minutes. My contact is waiting for me to bring it to him. Business continues to go well, the best it has been in years. It seems war can be a boon for the economy. I think it is not worth the cost of lives, but no one is asking my opinion.
I love you, Carrie. I long for the day when we can be together again, whether in a united country or a divided country at peace. My prayers and thoughts will remain with you always.
Love,
Aunt Abby
Carrie sighed and laid aside the last page of Aunt Abby’s letter. Turning down the wick in her lantern, she laid back against her pillows, allowing the warm darkness to envelope her. She would read this letter over and over. But for now, she would simply allow the words to flow through her mind and heart, content with the knowledge that God had answered the cry of her heart and given her contact with her friend.
Tomorrow, she would write a reply. She was sure Micah would find a way to send it on for her. It didn’t matter how long it would take - it was simply good to know it would get there someday.
Just before her eyes closed in sleep, her thoughts returned to Robert. Would he make it through the battle tomorrow? Her last waking thought was a prayer.
CHAPTER TEN
“Down! Everybody down!” Robert shouted. He dropped to the ground, rolled over on his back, and frantically reloaded his rifle. All around him his men were doing the same thing, their curses filling the air.
Robert rose up on one knee, took quick aim, and fired. He wouldn’t go down without a fight! With his shot off, he dropped once more to the ground and reloaded. He also took a moment to look around the thicket. How many of his men had he lost? He could count at least twenty down.
How many were dead? How many wounded in need of the surgeons up the hill and behind the lines?
A fierce surge of anger engulfed his body. His mind was calm as he considered all his options. The best he could do was to try to get as many of his men out alive as he could. And take a few Union soldiers along the way.
Robert rose on his knee again and fired. “Yeah!” He could feel his men’s eyes on him. “Got me another one, boys! Let’s do some damage and get the devil out of here!” His voice was strong and confident.
One quick look told him his act was doing the job. Gone was the look of panic on his men’s face. With grim determination, they rolled on their backs and reloaded.
“Got one!”
“Yeah!”
“We’re not licked yet!”
Robert winced as another barrage of gunfire assaulted their position. As the bullets whizzed over their heads, he could almost hear the attending song of death they carried with them.
“We’ll get them, Lieutenant!”
Fifty feet from him, Robert heard Hobb’s triumphant yell. Having reloaded his gun, the youth raised slightly to one knee and took aim. Then, suddenly, with a scream of agony, Hobbs fell backward, his rifle landing yards away.
“Hobbs!” Robert immediately began to crawl toward him. He now hardly noticed the rain of bullets flying around him. Keeping his face to the ground, he crawled as fast as he could. It took him only minutes to reach him.
“Keep up your fire, men! Prepare to retreat!”
Robert was relieved to see Hobbs’ chest still moving when he reached him. He winced when he saw the widening red spot on the right side of his uniform. He quickly ripped away the boy’s jacket. The bullet had entered his chest, just below his left breastbone.
“They got me, Lieutenant!” Hobbs gasped weakly. His eyes glittered with fear, but he managed to squeeze a smile through the layers of grime covering his face.
Robert squeezed his arm. “Hang in there, Hobbs. We’re going to get you out of here.”
Hobbs shook his head. “Leave me. You’ll have a better chance of getting away.” His voice trembled with the effort of speaking.
Robert didn’t even bother to reply. He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a strip of cloth, and stuffed it into the hole the bullet had made. It would at least help stop the bleeding.
Then he looked around him. All his men were on their backs reloading - and watching him. Just then there was a brief lull in the action. Above him, he could hear a louder roar from the Confederate guns. More reinforcements must have arrived! This might be their only chance.
“Retreat!”
Robert reached down, gathered Hobbs up, and hefted him over one shoulder. The boy gave a single gasp of pain and then went limp. He had passed out. It’s best, Robert thought grimly. If they didn’t make it, he wouldn’t even know.
Within a few yards, Robert was gasping for breath in the dusty heat. The long morning had already drained him. Hobbs’ extra weight made every stride a fight. Ducking his head, Robert ran.
All around him, his men ran with him, several of them carrying other wounded comrades. They were only part way up Henry Hill when the barrage began again. Once more bullets hailed around them. An answering roar from the Confederate forces added to the fracas.
Run, Robert! Don’t look! Just run! Each step was an agony as Robert lurched up the hill, Hobbs’ head banging against his back. The man in front fell with a cry. Summoning all his strength, Robert jumped over him and continued his wild dash. He could not help that man now.
He finally reached the crest of the hill and paused for a moment, g
asping as the line behind him, closed ranks once more.
“Retreat!” Colonel Evans’ voice boomed out.
Robert looked around him quickly, taking in the grim situation. Union forces were streaming in on the left, threatening to completely envelop their flank. That was bad enough. But off to the right, he could see a considerable body of troops approaching, completely enfilading their position and threatening their rear.
All around him men began to pull back. He suppressed a groan, reshifted Hobbs’ weight, and continued to move. “Let’s go, men. Double-quick time!” Robert knew his men were exhausted. He also knew if they quit moving it would all be over. Gritting his teeth, he continued to press on. He would have to set the pace for them.
A quick glance to the east gave him a glimmer of hope. He could see what appeared to be clouds of dust off toward Manassas. It could only mean more reinforcements. They just had to hang on!
Reaching the cover of the woods, Robert finally handed Hobbs over to hands reaching out to help him. He had done all he could do. The field surgeons would have to take over now. “His name is Hobbs. Take good care of him,” he said gruffly. Then he turned back to his men.
“We’re done for, Lieutenant,” one gasped. His voice echoed the looks of despair surrounding him.
“We got to get out of here while we can,” another cried.
Robert wanted to nod and agree with them.
Pickins was more vocal than the rest. “I can’t believe we made it outta that slaughter hole alive!” His eyes were burning. “I felt like I was in the very presence of death.” Then he turned to Robert. “This is unfair, Lieutenant. Somebody is to blame for getting us all killed! But who?” His voice was as bewildered as it was angry. “I didn’t come out here to fight this way. I just wish the earth would crack open and let me drop in.”
All around the men were nodding in assent.
Robert looked around. What was going on? Was the battle over? Were the Confederate troops really in hopeless retreat? Would they at least be able to retreat fast enough to keep the Union forces from cutting off Richmond? Where was Colonel Evans? What about General Bee? He had not seen a single officer since he and his men had escaped the thicket. What could he say to keep them going? Was there even anywhere to go? His head pounded as the questions swarmed in his mind.
“Reinforcements!”
Robert gave a sigh of relief as the cry rose from the rear. He could have cheered when he saw Colonel Hampton and his legion of South Carolinians. Minutes later he saw what appeared to be a full brigade, fresh, dressed in battle line, and ready for the battle. General Jackson had arrived.
Robert looked around at what was left of his men. They had been through hell, but it wasn’t over yet. He had to do something to bolster their morale. “I’m proud of you, men. You fought well!”
“While our friends got slaughtered!” one cried out rebelliously.
“That’s war,” Robert shouted grimly. “The question is Are we going to avenge their deaths? or Are we going to run?” His challenge hung in the air. Robert glared around at the panicked faces staring at him. “You boys said you wanted action. You said you wanted to make a difference. Well,” he paused dramatically, “you have your chance. What choice are you going to make?”
There was a long silence as the exhausted men exchanged glances. In the distance Robert could see men disappearing farther into the back line, ignoring the rush of men moving forward to take their positions. Those men had made their decision.
Pickins was the first to speak. “Where you want us to go, Lieutenant? We’re sticking with you!”
Robert heaved an inward sigh of relief and flashed them an encouraging smile. “I knew I could count on you!”
Just then he caught sight of General Beauregard and General Johnston moving toward them. A quick glance at his watch told him it was after twelve-thirty. After a morning of agonizing battle, the leading Confederate generals had finally arrived. Maybe things could turn around after all.
“Where are you supposed to be, Lieutenant?” Johnston’s voice was not unkind as his sweeping gaze took in the tattered remains of Robert’s troops.
“Wherever we can do the most good, sir!” Robert responded quickly.
“That’s the way!” Johnston replied with a grim smile. “Move to the left and reinforce the line where Colonel Bartow is. We have to hold that position. This day is not over yet! Victory can still be ours!” Then he turned and rode to the next scattering of men.
Robert moved his troops quickly to follow Johnston’s orders. The general’s words had breathed new life into his disheartened troops. As Robert positioned his men, the steady bombardment from the Union troops continued. Sensing their strong advantage, they were moving forward.
“Give it to them, boys!”
With faces set in grim determination, his men fired off their rounds and then turned to reload. They were back in the battle!
All around them, reinforcements rushed into the battle. As Robert fired and rapidly reloaded, he noticed with grim satisfaction that the tide seemed to be turning. Less than an hour ago, the Confederate left was in a confused and hopelessly outnumbered retreat. Now they were holding Henry Hill with a long line of strong troops. General Johnston had been right. They weren’t out of this yet!
“Lieutenant, look at that!”
Robert looked toward where Pickins was pointing. All he saw was the same line of powerful Union batteries that had been moved out of the woods to bombard their position earlier. The shrill and whistle of their shells had been relentless since then. He looked back at Pickins with a shrug.
“No, look at that!” he insisted, a smile appearing on his face.
Robert looked back again. He gasped at what he saw. Colonel Cummins of the 33rd Virginia was just leading his men from the woods, less than a hundred yards from where the battery was firing away. What was he doing?
As he watched, his face spread into a broad smile. Not all the Confederate troops were dressed in gray. Some, including Cummins’ men, were dressed in the only uniforms they could obtain at the time - blue ones. It was obvious to Robert that the Union troops were uncertain as to the identity of the men moving toward them. He watched as one of the Federals moved to turn the guns toward Cummins’ men, only to have one of his own stop him from doing so. The confusion continued as Cummins moved closer.
“How far is that crazy man going to take them?” Pickins asked in disbelief then fired off another round. This time he didn’t turn around to reload. He did it facing the action.
Robert fired another round and then watched breathlessly as the drama unfolded before him. If Cummins could pull it off, it would be brilliant. If not, it would mean the certain end of all his men.
Down below, the confusion seemed to end. Robert watched, horrified as the big guns of the battery swung to face the oncoming troops.
Just then Cummins gave the order to fire. Instantly, a deadly volley rang forth from his men’s guns. The watching Confederate troops cheered wildly as Union men fell right and left - joined by dozens of horses littering the ground. Within minutes the triumphant company of blue-clad Confederates swarmed jubilantly over the guns as the Federal gunners fled for their lives.
Robert cheered wildly, realizing the Union army had just suffered a major setback. From that point forth, the battle turned in their direction.
At around four o’clock, massive reinforcements marched in from the east. General Early had arrived with his men. It was more than the now beleaguered Union troops could take.
“We got them, boys!” Robert yelled.
As Early’s men opened fire on what was already a retreating army, the retreat turned into a route. Blue-clad men left their formations and began to run in panic, headed for the bridges and fords that would take them behind the lines.
Cheers erupted around him.
“Look at them run!”
“We did it!”
“They’re ours now!”
“They should
have known better than to mess with us Southerners!”
Robert smiled grimly but said nothing. Only hours earlier, they had been the ones in full retreat. It was indeed a heady moment, but if reinforcements had not arrived precisely when they did, Southern troops would be the ones running for their lives.
Just then another - a more commanding voice - rose above the cries of victory. “After them!”
Robert turned around quickly and saw General Beauregard, astride his horse, watching the retreating troops. Delight was stamped on his face.
“Bring back prisoners!” he cried and then moved on.
Pickins was the first to surge forward. “Now it’s our turn!”
Robert moved quickly to take the lead, but his heart wasn’t in it. He was tired, hungry, and sore. The Union army was defeated. Maybe the optimists were right. Maybe this would be the only battle of the war. Why did they need prisoners? Why not just rejoice in the victory and enjoy Southern freedom? He continued to press forward, however. He had been given an order.
Robert gazed around on the scene before him in astonishment. By now the temperature was somewhere in the nineties. Combined with the humidity and the lingering smoke from the battle, the elements had created a hazy fog that infiltrated the woods and seeped onto the open fields. It only intensified the surreal picture that lay before him. Abandoned rifles lay where they had been thrown or dropped. Overturned wagons were still full of ammunition. Riderless horses stood dazedly among their fallen friends. Artillery pieces, left behind in the route, waited to fall into Confederate hands. Clothes, backpacks, canteens, and other equipment almost blocked their way because they lay so thick.
But it was the bodies that turned Robert’s stomach. Such carnage made him want to turn and run. He had lost all taste for the hunt. Men, those not gathered by the fleeing forces, were already bloating and turning black from the intense heat. Some lay with their eyes wide in horror; others were minus limbs that had been blown away.
