The Last, Long Night

by Ginny Dye

  Robert took a deep breath and then focused on why he was really there. The glow of thousands of campfires looked like tiny orange specks on a dark canvas. Sheridan’s camp spread out in stark detail below their position. Nearly every tent was visible in the bright moonlight. He stayed motionless, identifying the locations of Sheridan’s cavalry, his artillery, his infantry, and his wagon train.

  Robert stared intently, noting where Sheridan’s lines of entrenchments had been run, and where they stopped. He could see it all… the roads leading to the camp, the place where the Federals could best be attacked. The scene below was like a huge map: showing him where to move, how far to go, and what to do.

  He knew every man with him was documenting the same picture in their minds as the wind sprang up and turned their sweaty bodies into shivering muscles. Finally he turned away, motioned silently, and headed back down.

  Alex caught up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. Robert said nothing, but they exchanged a broad grin.

  They were definitely not finished yet.

  Grateful for the flickering fire flames, Matthew leaned back against his chair and stared up at the full moon. He pulled his coat tighter and let his thoughts roam.

  “Today was fun,” Peter commented.

  Matthew grinned. “Who would have thought I would be playing baseball on a battlefield?” he snorted. “Of course, they change the rules so fast it’s hard to know who is really winning.”

  Peter nodded his agreement. “It’s fun, though. I wouldn’t be surprised if the game becomes a national pastime.” He paused and then added, “Sheridan should be back sometime tomorrow from Washington. I understand he’s spending tonight in Winchester.”

  “He must be quite confident nothing will happen.”

  “Definitely,” Peter replied. “The troops wouldn’t be playing baseball if this was considered an active camp. Right now we’re just biding time until Sheridan decides what our next move is. Early may be done, but I’m confident Sheridan will make another move toward Richmond when he’s ready.”

  “Right now he’s basking in his glory.”

  “It’s more like the Republican Party is basking in his glory. The election is less than three weeks away. Sherman is hanging out in Atlanta until the election is over, too. Nobody wants a defeat to upset the results of the election. Right now it’s almost certain Lincoln will be re-elected.”

  Matthew nodded again and then fell silent, content to let the crackling flames embrace his thoughts. His mind traveled back to a night much like this one when he and Robert had camped in these very mountains on a break from school. He wasn’t sure where Robert’s plantation was, but he knew it must be fairly close.

  He smiled as he remembered swimming in a frigid mountain stream, and then eating trout they had caught, complete with berries they had pulled from bushes. It had been an idyllic weekend. They had shared dreams and hopes, and spent hours in laughter.

  Matthew’s smile faded as the sounds of the army encampment reminded him he was at war against his friend. For all he knew, Robert had been wounded or killed since he’d last seen him five months before, when his friend had saved him from being recaptured and taken back to prison. He only hoped the day would come when he could repay Robert.

  Robert gazed around him, amazed that thousands of men could be this silent. He knew it was the only thing that had brought Early’s army so close to Sheridan’s camps. No alarms had been raised.

  It was five o’clock in the morning on October nineteenth.

  Sheridan had no idea what was about to befall him.

  “Your men are ready?”

  Robert snapped his head around when the quiet question sounded behind him. “Yes, sir,” he replied, his voice barely audible, and then Robert exchanged a grim smile with General Kershaw.

  Robert’s men were stationed with General Kershaw. They were poised east of Cedar Creek, near the point where it formed a lazy loop in its southward course toward the North Fork.

  Robert tensed his body and prepared for the signal to move forward. All around him he could sense coiled bodies ready to advance. He gripped his rifle tightly and thought of Oak Meadows’ empty fields. He had lost everything he had worked so hard to obtain. Even the image of Carrie’s smiling face wasn’t able to diminish the anger coursing through his blood.

  Up until now he had been fighting to protect what was his. Now he was fighting to avenge what had been lost. The war had a face now - one hundred horses that would never be reclaimed.

  When the signal came, he plunged forward down the trail. He began firing as soon as the first tents entered his field of vision, his lips tightening with satisfaction as screams and curses filled the air.

  Within minutes, the part of Sheridan’s camp under attack was in a complete rout - men still in their night clothes ran wildly from their tents, their weapons and provisions left behind.

  The need for secrecy was over.

  Robert raised his voice, along with his men, in wild Rebel yells and continued to push forward, jumping over bodies in his path and leaping over campfires.

  “Get them!”

  Matthew jolted up from a dead sleep and jerked at Peter’s arm. “Wake up! We’re being attacked!”

  “You’re crazy,” Peter muttered, snuggling deeper into his warm blankets. “Go back to sleep.”

  “Get up, Peter!” Matthew leapt up and dashed out of his tent. The musket shots grew louder, and the crazy Rebel yell echoed faintly through the valley.

  Moments later, Peter’s head poked from the tent. “What is going on?” His voice was as bewildered as his face.

  “The army that has no fight left in it is attacking,” Matthew snapped.

  Suddenly the camp swarmed with retreating men; all in night clothes, many bloodied and limping, their eyes wide with fright. Almost none had weapons.

  “The Rebels are attacking!” dazed Union soldiers yelled. “They came out of nowhere!”

  Officers appeared in the darkness and tried to regain order. “Prepare yourselves, men!” they commanded, trying to stop the stampede of soldiers to the rear. Most ran right around their officers and continued on their wild flight.

  Musket fire and screams grew louder. Matthew was suddenly very frightened. He exchanged a grim look with Peter, ducked back into his tent to grab his pack, waited for Peter to do the same, and then ran. Remaining in the middle of a battlefield with no defense was certainly not wise. He would not be captured again. Just the thought of it made him run faster.

  Robert yelled victoriously as Union men spilled from their tents and ran in fright. He watched as his men grabbed up new rifles, pulled shoes onto their bare feet, slipped into warm coats, and then kept pressing forward.

  “We got ‘em running, Captain!” Alex yelled triumphantly, shaking his new rifle at the sky.

  “Keep moving, Alex,” Robert yelled back. “This day has only begun. We will drive this army back to the North!” He knew the element of surprise was gone. The Confederates’ bellowing attack and booming guns had destroyed that. Now speed was going to be their weapon; pressing forward too quickly for the Federals to mount an effective defense.

  His men yelled and pushed forward even harder. Robert couldn’t know how other units fared, but at least in his area, victory appeared imminent .

  Within moments they burst out into another encampment. Open flaps revealed most of their enemy had fled, but they were met by sporadic bursts of gunfire.

  “Fire!” Robert yelled, emptying his rifle in the direction of the rifle flashes and running straight for it.

  Gunshots erupted all around him as his men yelled wildly and followed right behind him. A few more musket flashes lit the predawn before silence came.

  “Looky what I got here, Captain!”

  Robert looked up as several of his men appeared in the firelight, herding forward confused Federal soldiers, their eyes wide with sleep and fright. “Hold them as prisoners,” he snapped and then motioned the rest of his men onward.r />
  Morning crept forward. Daylight revealed just how successful their surprise attack had been. Robert couldn’t help laughing as his men continued to surge forward into absolute chaos. The fields behind the Union tents had become a living mass of men and horses – all fleeing for life and safety. Shoeless and hatless Union soldiers scurried like flightless fowls escaping their predators. Artillery guns were left deserted. Horses darted around madly; some cannoneers mounted bareback attempting to regain control. Panic hung in the air like heavy clouds.

  Chaos increased when Rebel cannoneers captured Union guns and then turned them on their former holders, throwing shell - grapeshot and canister - into the flying fugitives. White flags of surrender flew from every Union entrenchment.

  “Look at this, Captain!” one of his men yelled. “You ever seen such finery?” his voice mocked.

  Robert looked into one officer’s tent set up as if he had been on a grand vacation and not on a battlefield. Robert’s eyes narrowed as he absorbed the elegant scene before him. A small dining table - perfectly set with china, shiny tableware, and even a vase of fresh flowers - incited Robert’s anger over his own men’s hardships.

  Opening his mouth to call his men onward, he stopped when his soldiers began to grab things. This bounty must look like the wealth of the Indies to his half-fed, half-clothed men.

  It took them only seconds to grab slices of bacon and bread off a table, or to shrug into a warm overcoat, or slip on thick boots they hadn’t seen the likes of since the beginning of the war. His men couldn’t carry much, but, at least for a while, they would be warm at night. How could Robert take that from them?

  Moments later order was restored and they continued to press forward, laughing at the victory that was obviously theirs.

  Matthew stumbled forward, both mesmerized and horrified by the chaos surrounding him.

  “You all right?” Peter grabbed his arm and held him upright.

  Matthew suddenly couldn’t breathe. He knew how easily he could be captured again. Sheridan’s army was being badly beaten. The Confederates would take many prisoners that day.

  “Matthew?” Peter shook him. “We have to keep moving.”

  “I won’t be captured again,” Matthew gasped. “No more…” Terror gripped him as memories of Libby Prison and the escape filled him. “They’ll have to kill me.”

  “There will be no capturing and no killing,” Peter snapped. “We’re getting out of here!” He pulled Matthew forward through a stand of trees and then jerked to a stop and groaned.

  Matthew stared forward and saw a group of Federal soldiers being herded by laughing Rebel troops. “No,” he whispered. He jerked free of Peter’s arm, dashed into a stand of trees, and searched for a way out. He was aware of Peter right behind him, but freedom was his only thought. Perhaps the soldiers hadn’t seen them.

  “Get those two that disappeared into the woods!”

  A call from behind him destroyed Matthew’s hope. He paused for a moment and then raced headlong into a field of boulders and huge rocks, dashing through them and around them as fast as he could. His breath came in gasps, and he couldn’t hear anything beyond the roaring in his head.

  He was hugging a boulder, looking for a place above him to hide, when the ground seemed to open up and swallow him. He cried out as he slid down and came to a jarring halt.

  Peter landed right beside him. “What…?”

  Matthew’s hand clamped over Peter’s mouth to silence him. “Not a word,” Matthew whispered harshly. He gasped for breath and then held it when he heard the scramble above him.

  “They had to have come this way!” one of the men yelled. “They didn’t just disappear into thin air.”

  Moments later another soldier’s voice filled the silence. “I ain’t worried about two more men since we got us close to one hundred back there. Let ‘em go.” A harsh, triumphant laugh rang in the air. “If they get away, they can tell about how Captain Borden’s men destroyed their camp.”

  Matthew gasped again. Robert’s men were pursuing him. If they caught him and Peter, even Robert couldn’t get them out of trouble this time. He shrank into himself and prayed their hole would protect them. He would worry later about how to get out of it.

  Robert was exhausted, but laughed and joked with his men as the morning rolled on. Couriers from other divisions relayed the message that General Early’s attack had swept the Federal forces off the field. Robert was certain Early would order another attack against their badly mauled enemy to finish them off.

  He looked up expectantly as one of his commanding officers rode up. “Are we moving again?”

  “No,” came the clipped answer. “General Early has decided to hold what has been gained. We’re to carry off all the captured and abandoned artillery, small arms, and wagons.”

  Not sure what to say, Robert simply looked at him.

  The officer shrugged. “The men are exhausted. They’ve been short of food and supplies for weeks.” He leaned forward to add quietly, “Your men are in order, but in other areas, one third of the men have left their lines and are plundering.”

  Robert stared at him, but he understood. These men had suffered so greatly. Still…

  “Do you think they’re finished?” Robert asked quietly, looking north. “Surely Sheridan won’t just ride off into the sunset.”

  “I guess we’ll cross that bridge if we come to it,” the officer replied grimly before he moved on.

  Sheridan’s response came that afternoon.

  Robert and his men had moved up to help form a final line. His troops stared uneasily first at the Union force, and then at Robert, as the Federals gathered en masse across from them.

  A messenger came through relaying that Confederate signalmen on Massanutten Mountain had sent the warning of a Yankee buildup.

  “Captain?”

  “I don’t guess it’s over yet,” Robert said grimly as his eyes scanned the horizon.

  “The boys are feeling right nervous,” Alex muttered. “I reckon we celebrated a mite too early.”

  Robert remained silent, his rifle gripped tightly, as he fought to breathe evenly. His men wore their newly confiscated uniforms and shoes. Robert prayed these brave soldiers would live long enough to enjoy them.

  Their waiting ended at four o’clock when the Federals fought forward in a series of assaults. Robert groaned as he saw the wave of blue coats teeming toward them. He knew even before the fight began that his men didn’t stand a chance. He raised his rifle and began to fire, but - in less than an hour - he heard the call to retreat as men dropped all around him.

  “Retreat!” Robert yelled, knowing he would have to run a long way to escape the Union fury.

  “Don’t you think it’s time for us to get out of here?” Peter asked, staring up at the small hole above them. He had carefully selected footholds and handholds that would allow them to climb the twenty feet they had fallen.

  “I don’t know,” Matthew said nervously. “Let’s wait until dark. We don’t know what’s going on up there.” He had become quite fond of the small cave they had fallen into.

  Peter licked his lips. “No, we don’t, but I know what is going on down here. We’re about to die from thirst!”

  “Better than going back to prison,” Matthew muttered and then flushed when Peter’s eyes softened with compassion.

  He realized Peter couldn’t possibly understand. All the prisoners at Libby Prison had suffered, but only Matthew had been relegated to Rat Hole for months. Nightmares continued to haunt him. His terror of going back there had stolen any former strength and courage he’d once had.

  “Let’s wait just a while longer,” he finally said.

  Peter nodded quietly and sat back down. “Okay. It’s not like I have any idea what we’ll do once we get out of here,” he admitted. “If we’re behind Rebel lines, I don’t know how we’ll escape.”

  His voice broke off as booms of cannon fire exploded in the distance. Another full-scale ass
ault was under way, but they had no way of knowing which direction it came from. Were the Rebels finishing the job, or had Sheridan returned from Washington to rally Union troops?

  Steady firing and booming of cannons thundered for over an hour. Then suddenly Matthew and Peter heard voices.

  “Get out of here!”

  “Retreat!”

  “The Yankees turned the tables!” another jeered. “Run!”

  Matthew and Peter cheered, knowing their voices couldn’t be heard amid the chaos, and confident that Rebels in retreat wouldn’t stop to capture prisoners. They settled back to wait; soon it would be safe to leave their unexpected refuge.

  Within one hour of Sheridan’s assault, every Confederate force nearby had been routed. The same chaos that had existed earlier in the day for the Union, now all belonged to the Rebels as they fled for their lives; giving up all they had gained and losing much of their artillery.

  By the end of the day, Early’s army had fallen all the way back to New Market and was no longer a fighting force in the Shenadoah.

  The battle for the Shenandoah Valley was over.

  Robert stared around at the remnants of his men huddled around a fire.

  “We’re finished now, ain’t we, Captain?” Alex asked hoarsely, his eyes red with exhaustion.

  Robert nodded. “We’re finished,” he admitted. “I imagine we’ll be called back to Richmond, but the Shenandoah Valley is gone.”

  Heaviness and defeat settled over Robert as he lay down and pulled a new Union blanket over him. It provided no warmth as the cold reality sank into his bones.

  The Valley was lost… Oak Meadows was lost…

  Never had Robert felt so lost or alone. He tried to pull the vision of Carrie’s shining eyes into his heart, but all he felt was emptiness.