by Ginny Dye
“Good morning, Hobbs.” Robert had been pleased to discover Private Hobbs had been assigned to his regiment. His wounds were completely healed, and he was still as dedicated to the cause as ever. He had proudly informed Robert that he had signed up for the duration of the war.
“Hey, look, Lieutenant. I won the contest this morning. I got me three!” Hobbs lifted his coffee for him to inspect it.
Robert grimaced as he walked over and gazed down into the murky liquid. He knew the men had competitions each morning to see who came up with the most weevil larvae from the hardtack. Hobbs had three floating at the top of his coffee.
“This hardtack really been around since the Mexican-American War?” one of his other men asked. “We’re eating grub that was made in 1846?”
“Geesh!” Hobbs exclaimed. “That’s sixteen years.” He held up his hardtack and looked at it with astonishment. “Somebody made this stuff the year I was born!” He reached down with his knife and skimmed the larvae off the top of his steaming liquid. “I reckon it’s all right now,” he said cheerfully.
Robert smiled as most of the soldiers followed suit. They were good men, doing their best to find humor in their hardships. He knew they dipped the rock-hard biscuits into their coffee to soften them but also to dislodge any insect infestation caused by improper storage. The army was making the most of every provision they had – including hardtack baked for earlier military use.
“This campaign should be a cinch after the first one we fought together,” Hobbs remarked.
“I certainly hope so,” Robert replied. “A lot hinges on this.”
Hobbs nodded and took a sip of his coffee. “I reckon it won’t be too hard to regain control of western Virginia. I hear tell the Yankees are going to be powerfully outnumbered by us. They’ll probably run when they see us coming.”
“If they know what’s good for them, they will,” Robert agreed. Then his face hardened. He knew more hinged on this than his men were aware. President Davis had told him Jackson’s full intent during a strategy session.
Jackson’s plan was to concentrate his entire force on Romney in order to drive the enemy - about six thousand strong - from the South Branch Valley. He hoped his thrust would lure the North’s General McClellan out of his fortifications around Alexandria where he was opposed by General Johnston. Then Jackson would move with his troops to reinforce Johnston and secure a victory. Jackson deemed it of great importance that northwestern Virginia be occupied and controlled by Confederate troops this winter. President Davis had rejected a proposal by General Beauregard to invade Maryland. Jackson’s plan he approved.
The day for action had arrived. Fortune appeared to be on their side as the warm weather lifted everyone’s spirits and made the idea of a mere forty mile march to Romney seem like a picnic.
Robert was ready with his men when the call came to move out. “Let’s go get them, men!” he called loudly. He urged his horse forward as his men stepped out behind him.
Excited talk and laughter filled the air for the first part of the march. But then the wind shifted and began to blow from the north. The week of mild weather ended abruptly as a strong front blasted its way toward them. Robert looked up at the sky in concern. He had been aware of the dangers inherent in a winter campaign, but he had hoped somehow they would not have to deal with them. He had also received information earlier that concerned him greatly. Even though Romney was Jackson’s ultimate goal, the general had decided on a circuitous route that would more than triple their distance to Romney. Robert was afraid the men would not be able to hold out that long on foot in bad weather. But it was not his decision. All he could do was follow orders.
He had grave misgivings about the men’s capability to do what they were being asked to do, but he understood why they were being asked. Had General Jackson gone straight toward Romney, he would have left a larger force hanging on his right flank than he cared to worry about. At the same time, he would have left Union forces free to communicate on their Romney relief efforts. Instead, he had decided to march straight for Bath, scattering the force on his right before striking west toward his real goal. He would cut telegraph lines and burn bridges along the way. It would at least delay the organization of any new force to harass him.
By nightfall, the threatening sky had erupted into snow and ice storm. Jackson’s troops were in an uncomfortable bivouac, attempting to stay warm.
Hobbs smiled up at Robert when he walked over to check on his men. “Fine night isn’t it, Lieutenant?”
“I suppose it is if you’re a bear, Hobbs. How are you?”
Hobbs shrugged. “I could be a little warmer, but I reckon I’ll make it. I used to go on hunting trips in the winter in these mountains. They can be pretty brutal.” His face said much more than his words did.
Robert nodded in agreement as he gazed around at the hundreds of campfires battling the cold sweeping down on them. Men surrounded each fire, their faces pinched with cold as they wrapped themselves in thin, inadequate blankets. Supply wagons had not been able to keep up with the troops. The men were without food or shelter. Wind raced over the hills, whistled through the trees, and whirled sparks and smoke into their eyes.
One young soldier caught his attention with his hacking cough. Robert frowned and walked over to where he was curled up on the ground with his back to the fire. “That cough doesn’t sound so good, Clark.” The slightly built North Carolinian gazed up at him, but when he opened his mouth to speak, another spasm of coughing erupted. “Get this man something hot to drink,” Robert snapped. If anyone heard him above the increased whistling of the wind, no one acknowledged it. Their faces seemed frozen as they stared into the fire.
Robert growled, cursing under his breath the necessity of bringing these men out into weather like this. He stalked over to one of the cook fires and poured water into a pot to boil. It was twenty minutes before the water was hot enough to make coffee – just long enough to numb his hands and feet. Robert rubbed his hands together furiously, then made a large cup of coffee, and carried it over to Clark. The man was still coughing violently, his body shaking with the cold. “Drink this,” he commanded. He knelt down and put his arm behind Clark’s shoulders to support him while he drank the hot brew.
Clark sipped at the drink slowly in between coughs. The shaking and coughing subsided somewhat, and he smiled up in gratitude. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”
Robert nodded and stood up, clapping his hands sharply to get the attention of his men. “We’re in this together. All of us. Nothing we do is going to change this night. So that means we have to make the best of it. And we have to help each other.”
His men looked at him dully. Robert turned, strode back to his tent, and grabbed up his blankets. When he returned, he put one around Clark, wrapped the other one around himself, and then sat down next to the fire.
Hobbs stared at him in astonishment. “You staying out here with us tonight, Lieutenant?”
“I said we were in this together, didn’t I?” Surprised faces took on new life. “We’ve got to fight this cold,” Robert continued. “That means we have to take turns keeping the fires burning hot.”
“I’ll stand the first watch,” one man volunteered.
“I’ll watch next,” another spoke up.
“It also means we have to keep hot liquids in us,” Robert snapped.
Without speaking, two men stood and headed toward the cook fire. One piled on more wood while the other filled pots with water.
“And we have to share our body warmth,” Robert finished. Soon there were groups of four or five soldiers huddled together, offering each other protection from the wind, sleet, and cold.
Robert looked longingly at the tent that would offer him at least some protection against the storm and then turned away. He would stay with his men. If he expected them to stand together, he had to stand with them. He lay down as close to the fire as possible, pulled his blanket tightly to him, and tried to think of other thin
gs. Immediately Carrie appeared full-blown in his mind. He felt as if he could reach out and touch her glowing skin and sparkling eyes. Suddenly the laughter in her eyes faded and was replaced by something else. Robert craned forward in his mind to determine what it was. Suddenly he knew. There was a look of warm approval - even pride on her face. Strangely encouraged, Robert slept.
Five days later, Robert found himself wondering if he would ever be warm again.
So far the campaign had been successful. The town of Bath had been easily occupied after a brief skirmish in which no one was injured. When Jackson followed the retreating troops to the town of Hancock, the Yankees had returned their fire with heavy fire of their own and refused to surrender. General Jackson had considered using his superior force to overwhelm the city and then decided he would wait for his widely scattered troops to come back together. He had contented himself by ordering several shells lobbed into the town after giving Hancock time to remove their women and children.
“Lieutenant Borden.”
Robert spun around at the sound of the voice behind him. “Yes, sir, General Jackson!” he returned smartly.
“Take a unit of your men to guard against any curiosity the Yankee cavalry might have to investigate us tonight.” The general issued the orders in his usual quiet voice, then turned his mare, Little Sorrel, and rode back toward his tent.
Robert watched him go, amazed once again at how unlike a general he appeared. His other Confederate counterparts were all pomp and circumstance. From the beginning, Jackson and his cadet aides were content to go about their duties clad in the plain blue uniforms of the Military Institute. Jackson’s seat in the saddle was rather ungraceful. His well-worn cadet hat, even in this cold, was always tilted over his eyes. He spoke only when necessary, and he seldom smiled.
Yet the loyalty of his troops was whole-hearted. To a man, they would stand with him. Robert had watched as the misery of the troops intensified. Today was the first day of a break in the weather. There was plenty of grumbling and complaining, but he had heard no one suggest they turn back. The men would continue to press forward to Romney. That is, if any were healthy enough to still stand. Robert frowned at the wave of hacking coughs that rolled toward him. Many of his men were sick, wracked with fevers and coughing. Once again Carrie’s face rose to his mind. What he would give to have her here to care for his men. Then he shook his head; he could not imagine Carrie at a place like this.
“Hobbs!” he called as he turned toward his men. Immediately the freckled-face mountain boy was at his side.
“Yes, Lieutenant?”
Robert smiled briefly at the lad. Hobbs and his constant good cheer had become indispensable to him. “Select fifty of our men and tell them to prepare for a little scouting trip.” He paused. “I want fifty healthy men,” he said firmly.
Hobbs hesitated for a moment and then said, “I will do my best, sir.”
“It’s that bad?” Robert asked with a scowl.
Hobbs shrugged. “It’s not just our men, sir. The troops are sick everywhere. I’ll find the fifty healthiest men I can.”
Robert nodded and turned away to gather his own gear. This blamed winter would have to end sometime. The thought of the long weeks stretched out before them were daunting, but there was nothing to do but endure them.
Robert talked briefly with the cavalry detachment that rode out to meet him. “I have orders to stand watch against the Yankee cavalry,” he said to the captain who rode up to confer with him.
The middle-aged man regarding him answered with amusement. “You ain’t got nothing to worry about, Lieutenant. Them Yankees ain’t coming out to look for no trouble tonight. And my boys are keeping a sharp eye on them.”
“I have my orders,” Robert said firmly.
The captain shrugged. “Suit yourself, Lieutenant. We can all watch nothing happen together.” He paused. “Or you can let your men get some sleep. Looks to me like they need it.”
Robert knew he was right. Hobbs had tried to pick fifty healthy men, but that was simply asking too much of a unit decimated with sickness. Suddenly he relaxed. “Let me know if you have need of our services,” he said firmly. Then he turned and waved his men back.
Robert searched until he found an area he was convinced would be safe. An open field, it commanded an advance on either end. They would have time to take action if the enemy tried to surprise them during the night. After telling his men to get some sleep, he wrapped up in his blanket and lay down on the cold ground. He looked up into the sky for a few moments. It was cloudy, but not nearly as cold as it had been. Within minutes he had fallen into an exhausted slumber.
“Great Jehosophat!”
A loud startled voice snapped Robert from his sleep. Just as quickly, he was aware of an oppressive heat. He threw off his blanket with which he had completely covered his head during the night and was amazed to see snow flying in every direction.
“Look at that, Lieutenant!”
Robert gazed in the direction Hobbs was waving his arm and began to chuckle. The scene stretched out before him was a weird one. The field, blanketed under five inches of snow, looked to be the home of great fallen logs. As he watched, one by one the “logs” came to life and sent snow flying in every direction.
“First good night’s sleep I’ve had since we started this crazy march!” one voice called. “I was warm as a pup all night long!”
Choruses of assent rose around him. Robert smiled, realizing now why farmers in the mountains and in the North prayed for a deep layer of snow to protect their wheat from intense cold. He jumped up, gave orders to the men to prepare breakfast, and then rode up to check with the cavalry unit.
“Still as a church mouse around here,” the captain reported. “You can tell Jackson these boys ain’t gonna cause no one any trouble.”
Suddenly a horse galloped up and skidded to a halt where they were standing. “What is it, Smith?” the captain asked sharply.
“Reinforcements, sir. There are a large number of reinforcements marching into Hancock. I don’t reckon they intend to give it up.”
Robert listened carefully as the young scout revealed all the information he had and then turned to race back in the direction he had come from. “I will take this information back to General Jackson,” he snapped crisply.
Later that afternoon General Jackson withdrew his troops and once more continued on his way to Romney. He had abandoned his idea of crossing the Potomac and raiding north. His efforts in taking Bath had not been in vain, however. He had accomplished his primary objective. Earlier that morning, he had sent a command of men to destroy the Big Cacapon Bridge over the Potomac River. They had driven off its defenders and decimated it with their artillery. Then they had proceeded to rip down the telegraph lines as far as they could go.
Carrie stopped her work long enough to straighten her shoulders and stretch in an effort to bring relief to her aching muscles. Not even she knew why she was working so hard at the task she had set for herself. She stepped back from the table she had erected in the basement of the house and reviewed her work. Bottle after bottle lined the table in front of her as well as the shelves surrounding her. Their carefully prepared labels proclaimed their contents.
Yarrow, mistletoe, onion, mint, poppy, broom, thistle, dandelion...
Carrie gave a sigh of contentment as she looked at how the supply had grown. There were still bags of herbs and plants to take care of, but she was making progress. The idea had come to her late one night when she was pouring over the medical books Aunt Abby had sent her. The long winter nights had given her an abundance of time to study them. The more she learned, the hungrier she became to know more.
One particular night as she pored through the volume about medicine and its uses, she had a sudden vision of the crowd of Union gunboats choking the Virginia shoreline. The citizens of Richmond were already feeling the results of the blockade. What would happen if medicines started to run short when the need was greatest? That
vision had started her on her current mission. She was sure she would be laughed at if the medical community was ever to see her growing store of herbs, but she didn’t care. Even if she only had opportunity to use it for her people here on the plantation, it would be well worth her efforts.
Suddenly the door above her cracked open, and Sam called down to her. “You plannin’ on eatin’ sometime today, Miss Carrie?”
“Is it late, Sam?” she called back.
Sam chuckled before he answered. “It be almost four o’clock, Carrie girl.”
“Four o’clock!” Carrie gasped. No wonder she was beginning to feel faint. She had been down here since ten o’clock that morning. She brushed her hands off on her dress, reached forward to cork the last bottle, and then quickly climbed the stairs. “I’m starving!” she announced when she reached the top.
Sam chuckled again and then pulled out the plate he held behind his back.
Carrie smiled when she saw the steaming bowl of soup surrounded by thick slices of fresh bread and butter. “You’re an angel!” she exclaimed as her stomach chimed its agreement. She took the plate, walked past the dining room straight into the parlor, and sank down into the chair closest to the fire. A sharp cold wind blew outside, making the heat from the fire even more welcome. Branches smacked against the windows of the house, which reminded Carrie she needed to have some of the men cut them back for her.
“You need anything else?” Sam asked from the doorway.
Carrie shook her head as she dipped her spoon into the aromatic brew. “This is wonderful. Thank you.” She sighed as the first spoonful of soup warmed her all the way down to her stomach. Quickly she ate the rest. When she finally put her spoon aside, she could feel strength returning to her body.
A wide smile spread across his face, Sam suddenly reappeared at the door to the parlor.
“Yes, Sam?” Carrie asked, returning his smile. “What is it?”
Sam walked forward, holding something in his hand. “We just had company,” he announced quietly, his eyes sparkling joyfully.
