“All right, but only if you stop calling me Colonel.” He grinned suddenly, adding, “I feel like an impostor as it is. Men like your uncle have earned their ranks with years of service, and here I come, just a rank impostor. So if you’ll call me Larry, I’ll feel a little less uneasy.”
He seemed so genuine that she agreed. “Very well. Let’s go meet some of your new soldiers, Larry!” He took her arm possessively, helped her down to the ground, then led her through the throng across to the tables.
Noel had listened to the speeches intently, and his resolve was strengthened by Colonel Bradford’s words. As soon as the call to sign up came, he moved at once from the edge of the crowd toward the tables. He was not the first—both tables were surrounded by men clamoring for attention. He stood there as the sergeants, smiling but firm, said, “All right, we’ll have a line, men. Right here, now, and don’t worry—we’ll get you all into the Washington Blues soon enough!”
Noel moved to take his place in the line forming in front of one of the tables, but as he did so, a hand suddenly grasped his arm. His father’s voice rose above the talk of the men: “What the devil do you think you’re doing!”
Will Kojak had been drinking freely from the barrels of beer that had been provided. He had told Bing, “We can eat anytime, but this is good beer!” During the speeches, he had stood at the back of the crowd with Bing, scoffing at the words of both officers, laughing at the response when the call to enlist came. Then he had caught sight of Noel in the line, and his anger flared up. “Get yourself out of that line, you young idiot!” he snarled, yanking at Noel so powerfully that the boy was jerked off balance.
Noel pulled himself up, very much aware that his father’s voice had drawn the attention of the crowd. His face flushed, and despite himself, there was a tremor in his limbs. He had always been an easygoing boy and, unlike Bing, had never crossed his father. But now he could not give way.
He faced his father and said in a voice that was not quite steady, “This is something I have to do.”
“Have to do? What the devil do you have to do with the slaves?” Kojak’s anger was always just below the surface, and something about Noel’s refusal made it boil over. He had given up trying to force Bing to do anything, for the young man could put him on his back with ease. But Noel had never challenged him. Until now.
Kojak began to curse, and he moved to grab his oldest son by the collar, intending to drag him off bodily.
“Better stop that, Rocklin!” Bradford said quickly. “He’s going to destroy the spirit of the recruiting.”
Gideon agreed and moved toward the pair but was shouldered aside by his father. Stephen Rocklin had already decided what to do and, heavy as he was, moved quickly to stand beside the father and son. “Kojak,” he said quietly, but loudly enough for the crowd to hear. “You’ve got a right to do as you please. But you won’t quench the spirit of any man who wants to fight for his country, not as long as you work for me.”
Kojak glared at him, his brutal face blazing with wrath. Deborah was standing to the left of her grandfather and could see the anger burning in Kojak’s eyes. Wondering if the man would strike out at his employer, she thought of what Noel had said about his mother and was filled with anger that the woman had suffered mistreatment at her husband’s hands. She half hoped Kojak would strike out at her grandfather or at least curse and quit his job.
But Will Kojak was aware that jobs were scarce. He struggled with his anger briefly, then said, “Well, a man has to look out for his son, don’t he?”
“Your son is old enough to make his own decisions,” Stephen Rocklin said. “Now I won’t have you disturbing this meeting. Either stay quiet or go back to work. If you can’t do either of those, go draw your time.”
Kojak said at once, “I’ll say no more.” Turning on his heel, he stalked away toward the factory.
“All right, men, you can go on with the recruiting,” Rocklin said. “And remember, when your enlistment is up, you’ll have your place back here at the factory.”
Good humor was restored at once, and the sergeants began writing furiously.
“He never was any good,” Stephen said to Gideon and Colonel Bradford. “Comes to work with such a hangover he can barely see straight. The boy isn’t like him, though, far as I know.”
“You saved the day, Mr. Rocklin,” Colonel Bradford said warmly. He looked at the long lines, then said, “This may hurt you some. You’ll be losing some good men.”
“You do the fighting, Colonel Bradford, and we’ll take care of things here at home.”
“Well said, sir!” Bradford exclaimed. “And we’ll do exactly that, won’t we, men?”
As he raised his voice so that the crowd could hear, Deborah saw that her uncle’s face was a study. She moved closer to him, asking, “What’s the matter, Uncle Gid?”
“Why, nothing, Deborah,” he answered quickly, but then added, “Bradford’s quite a fellow. Good at motivating men. But he’s always been in charge of everything. No soldier is that much in control. There’s always someone above him. I’m just wondering if our commanding officer will be able to take orders as well as he gives them.”
Deborah stood talking with her uncle, waiting for a chance to speak to Noel. Enlisting was a slow process, but finally he finished, and she caught his eye. He nodded and would have passed, but she said, “Uncle Gideon, I want you to meet someone.”
“Oh? Who might that be?” her uncle asked in surprise, but he allowed her to lead him to where the young Kojak was standing.
“This is Noel Kojak, Major Rocklin,” Deborah said. “We had lunch together, and he’s going to be one of your fine soldiers.”
Gideon studied the young man, noting the honest gray eyes and sturdy body. Better type than his father, he thought and said with a smile, “Glad to have you in the Washington Blues, Kojak. I know you’ll do well.”
Noel swallowed, managing to say, “I’ll do my best, sir. I don’t know much about soldiering, though.”
“You’ll get good training,” Gideon said, then noted that Bradford had come over to stand beside them, a curious look in his eye. “Colonel Bradford, this is Private Noel Kojak, the newest member of the Washington Blues.”
“Glad to have you in the regiment, Private Kojak,” Bradford said, then seemed anxious to leave. “Are you ready, Miss Steele?”
“Yes, of course.” Deborah paused long enough to say to Noel, “The matter we spoke of, don’t worry about it.”
“Thank you, miss.” Noel nodded, then turned and left.
“Seems to be a nice young man,” Gideon remarked.
“Have to keep your eye on him, Rocklin,” Bradford said sternly. “Seems to be a little weak, allowing his father to make his decisions and all that. Well, come along, Miss Steele, if you’re ready.”
On the way back to her home, Bradford asked, “What did you mean by what you said to Kojak?”
“Oh, he was reluctant to enlist because his family would suffer. He comes from a large family, and they depend on his wages to survive. I told him I’d help his mother from time to time until he got home.”
He shook his head but smiled at her. “You have a strong mothering instinct, I suspect, Deborah. But you can’t be responsible for the family of every soldier I recruit. Most of them are just lazy anyway.”
Deborah stared at him. “I don’t think that’s true of many of them, Larry.”
He was a man who was accustomed to women agreeing with him, and Deborah’s comment annoyed him. Then he shook off his resentment and grinned. “You’re a strong-minded young woman, Deborah. A man would never be bored with you.”
He took her home; then at the door he took her hand and kissed it, saying, “Dinner tonight? I insist! You must let me have my way sometimes, Deborah!” She agreed, but as he left and she moved inside the house, her thoughts were more about Noel Kojak than about the colonel.
Noel had gone back to work, but for the rest of the afternoon he had dreaded getti
ng off for the day. He knew that his father had been intimidated by Stephen Rocklin, but he also knew that the anger would be building up in him. Noel tried to brace himself for the explosion that was sure to come.
And come it did, as soon as the three Kojak men began their walk home. Will Kojak began cursing and reviling Noel, keeping on even after they got home. All night long he raved, and the entire family, except for Bing, came in for a share of his abuse.
Noel had wanted to break the news to his mother gently, but there was no chance of that. It was not until after supper, when Bing and his father went off to the tavern to get some liquor, that he had a moment alone with her. The children were all outside seeking relief from the heat of the summer night, and he came to sit beside her after the dishes were done.
“Mother, I wanted to talk to you, to tell you,” he said, putting his hand on hers, “but there was no time.”
“Is this something you feel is right, Noel?”
“Yes, Mother!”
“Then you must do it.” She picked up a worn, black Bible that lay on the battered table, found a verse, then read it. “‘Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.’” She closed the Bible, then sat there quietly. “You came to know the Lord Jesus when you were only eleven years old, Noel,” she said quietly. “And you’ve been faithful ever since. I don’t think I could have lived if you hadn’t stood with me! Now promise me that you’ll be faithful while you’re in the army. It will be hard, for there’ll be many wild young men. Promise me you’ll keep yourself free from the sins that soldiers are likely to fall into.”
“Why, I promise,” Noel said, somewhat surprised. “A man doesn’t have two selves. I mean, if a man is a Christian, he’s a Christian when he’s away from home just the same as he is at home.”
“That’s exactly right, Noel!”
He spoke of his absence, then said awkwardly, “Mother, I made a friend today. It will be hard for you to do without my wages, so you’ll be getting some help.”
“Oh? What’s his name, Noel?”
“Well, actually it’s a young lady, Mother. Her name is Miss Deborah Steele. She’s the granddaughter of Mr. Stephen Rocklin, the factory owner.” Noel told her of his meeting with the young woman and of the agreement that had taken place. When he was finished, he said, “She took your address, so you’ll be getting some money from time to time.” He hesitated, then added carefully, “I suppose it might not be best to tell Pa about this. Just use the money for food and for the things the others need.”
“This young woman, Noel, is she a Christian?”
“Why, I don’t know, Mother,” he said, then added, “But she did say she would pray for me.”
Anna Kojak nodded, thinking of the strangeness of it all. “I think she must be, Noel. And I praise God for the way He’s worked this all out. When will you leave, son?”
“The day after tomorrow, the sergeant said. Tomorrow will be my last day at the ironworks.”
“You’ll be back soon, only three months,” his mother said. Then she put her hand on his and held on to it possessively. “It’s going to be hard to let you go, Noel, but I believe God will bring you back safe. If you should fall in battle, well, you belong to God, so you’ll be in a better place!”
They sat there quietly, each of them thinking their own thoughts. Eventually Anna broke the silence.
“I wonder how many mothers in this country are saying good-bye to their sons. And some of them for the last time on this earth.”
He had no answer for her. He could only clasp her hand, praying that God would protect her while he was gone.
CHAPTER 4
A VISIT TO CAMP
All through April, Washington was hot, dusty, loud, and packed with a confederation of frantic seekers of all sorts. The new administration of Abraham Lincoln had drawn office seekers from all over the North, and their continual swarming around the presidential mansion almost drove the tall rail-splitter to flight. They laid wait for him in every conceivable location—not only in the White House, but on the streets as he tried to get some exercise, and even on the Sabbath in St. John’s Episcopal Church near the White House, where Lincoln sometimes worshipped.
Some of the men who thronged the city were not friendly to Lincoln, for the presidential campaign had been bitter. Some in the North had become angered during the campaign, but even more bitter were the Southerners in the city who carried their pride and anger over Sumter like a flag—John Hatcher was one of these angered Southerners. A handsome man, six feet six inches tall, he was with one of his friends from South Carolina when a line of people formed to shake hands with the president. “I’ll never shake the hand of old Abe Lincoln,” Hatcher said.
His friend responded, “I’ll bet you a suit of clothing you will. You can’t pass by Mr. Lincoln.”
“Agreed!” said the tall and handsome John Hatcher. The two fell in line, Hatcher in the lead, his head erect and determination showing in every line of his face. The retiring president, Mr. Buchanan, took Hatcher’s hand and shook it cordially. After receiving Hatcher’s name, Buchanan turned to introduce the man to Mr. Lincoln, but the Southerner removed his hand, let it drop to his side, and began to move on without greeting Mr. Lincoln or even looking upon his face. Lincoln grasped the situation instantly and, with a smile, said, “No man who is taller and handsomer than I am can pass by me today without shaking hands with me.”
As they left, Hatcher’s friend said, “John, I have won the suit of clothes.”
“Yes,” Hatcher replied, “but who could refuse to shake hands with a man who would leave his position and put his hand in front of you as Mr. Lincoln did?”
“Well, I have won the suit of clothes fairly,” replied his friend, “but I won’t take the wager, because you surrendered like a courteous Southern gentleman and shook the hand of our new president, as all Americans should do.”
Abraham Lincoln took the office of chief executive at the most critical time in the nation’s history, and it was with acts such as his encounter with John Hatcher that he began to win the hearts of his people. The nation sensed that grand and awful times were coming. Crowds of young men flooded into Washington to find their part in the coming war. Every hotel was packed, and private homes were invaded by young relatives coming to the capital to get into the cauldron of excitement. Most of them were afraid that the war would be over before they could get in on it, a sentiment that came close to driving Major Gideon Rocklin to despair.
“The young fools!” he said to his brother-in-law, Rev. Amos Steele, as the two of them left the War Department late one afternoon on the last day of April. “They don’t have the faintest idea what they’re getting into!”
“Do you think it will really be that bad, sir?” Steele asked cautiously. “I mean, after all, we have the Regular Army on our side. The Rebels have nothing to match it, surely?”
Gideon had picked up his hat, but he paused to stare at Steele. “The Old Army, yes, we have that, Amos. But it’s not what people think. Do you have any idea at all how small the Old Army is? No more than sixteen thousand men at most, and scattered all over the continent. And no more than eleven hundred officers of all grades.”
Steele was shocked. “I had no idea!”
“And of those officers, many will fight for the South. I got a letter from Captain Winfield Scott Hancock yesterday, from his post in California. They had a supper for a few friends, including General Albert Sidney Johnston, Lewis Armistead, George E. Pickett, Richard B. Garnett, and others—all of whom are leaving to take commissions in the Confederate Army!
“I know for a fact, Amos, that General Scott spoke with Robert E. Lee and asked him to be commander in chief of the Federal Army. And he refused! Said he couldn’t take up arms against his native state. The very cream of the crop of West Point officers have gone to the South to fight against us.” Jamming his hat down savagely on his head, he growled, “And these young firebrands think we can run down South, fire a few shot
s, and the Rebels will run for cover. Well, let me tell you, men like these don’t run!”
Steele walked quietly to the carriage with his brother-in-law, and it was not until they got almost to his house, where Gideon’s family was invited to dinner, that he said, “You know, Gid, I feel guilty about this war.”
Amos Steele was a man of the firmest convictions, and his confession caused Gideon to stare at him in surprise. Ever since he had known Steele, the minister had pursued the cause of freeing the slaves unswervingly. At times Gideon had tried to warn him that he was sacrificing his family to his work—but he never pushed the point since he felt that he himself was somewhat guilty of the same offense.
“I’ve been so determined to see the black people freed,” Steele said in a painful manner, “that I never thought what it would cost to bring it about.”
“You should have listened to your hero, old John Brown,” Rocklin said. “He warned us all that it would take bloodshed for slavery to be eliminated in this nation.”
“I know, Gid, but that was something far off, something distant. Now it’s here with us—and it’s going to be bad.”
The two men found out exactly how bad that evening at dinner. The large dining room was filled with Rocklins and Steeles, and the table was covered with food. At first, the meal went well. Gideon sat at one end of the table with his wife, Melanie, at his right, and their three sons—Tyler, Robert, and Frank—ranked on her right. Amos Steele sat at the other end of the table with his wife, Laura, on his right. Beside her, across from the Rocklins, were their three sons—Pat, Colin, and Clinton—along with Deborah.
Melanie Rocklin was wearing a crimson dress of silk, and her hair was as blond as it had been when she had married. She had been the beauty of Richmond society in those days and still was a most attractive woman. Looking at her, Gideon wondered how he had ever managed to get her as his wife. It was Colin Steele, wondering much the same thing, who precipitated the difficulties of the evening.
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