The crew welcomed the sight of the sergeant coming toward them signaling the end of the long day. What kind of grub they could expect for supper was anybody’s guess but rumor had it a couple of hams had been liberated from a nearby smoke house so perhaps if a few spuds had also been found they just might fill their bellies with something other that canned beans tonight.
Supper was somewhat better than usual and the tired men huddled around their campfire wishing they were anywhere but here. To their surprise the snow had continued to fall, covering the surrounding hillsides like a soft white blanket. Asa felt a lump rise in his throat recalling his last snowfall at home when he and David along with their younger brother Tom had gone sledding with the Kunkle boys and Rebecca and her sisters. “Lord,” he whistled at the memory, “she sure did look pretty with her dark hair under that bright red cap and her cheeks all pink.”
“What’s that you said, Hickok?” One of men asked. Asa’s face flamed and he mumbled crossly, “no business of yours.”
There was no mail again that evening. The weary to the bone young man finally turned in feeling very much alone and more than a little lost.
Morning dawned cold and drizzly. The snow had melted as they had expected and the camp was indeed a sea of mud. A sense of unease hung in the air like the limp flag flapping against the pole. Something was afoot but no orders had come down yet. Even the horses were nervous and could be heard whinnying and snorting to each other in the paddock. The dousing of the cooking fires was creating a pall of gray smoke that crept under one’s collar. At last, the bugler sounded “assembly.” A sigh of relief rippled through the ranks, something was about to happen.
“The enemy has been sighted” was the message that quickly spread from one group to another. Asa’s neck prickled while a spasm like a cold chilled hand stabbed at his gut. Apparently the rebel army was on the move. Memories of the sights of the dead and dying he’d struggled to suppress since the previous battle surfaced. Officers were shouting orders while dashing about mobilizing their troops.
“Saddle up, Hickok,” several of his fellow cavalrymen shouted as they raced for the paddock where the horses were galloping about in their excitement. “Here we go again,” Asa muttered, managing to catch his mount as the old mare trotted up to him snorting her displeasure at having her breakfast disrupted. “Calm down, girl,” he soothed throwing the blanket over her back and hastily cinching the saddle into place. “We finally get to do what we’re here for.” Collecting the rest of his gear he made certain his canteen was full of water, tucked his knife and pistol into his belt and swung himself up ready for the orders he knew would be coming any minute now. They didn’t ride with their sabers unless told to. They weren’t of much use if the fight became hand-to-hand as it often did.
Asa could see and hear that the artillery had been maneuvered into place with a great clatter of noise and loud protests from the mules and draft horses responsible for the job. Already the deadly missiles were being hurled forward causing huge explosions all along the rapidly forming lines of battle. The screams of the horses mixed with the bone-chilling rebel yells of the advancing enemy echoed off the surrounding hills turning the valley into a deadly maelstrom.
The Generals fought it out for three days at a tremendous loss of life until finally the Confederates withdrew. The Union troops claimed the victory, but wondered what had really been won. Exhausted and heart-sore, Asa and his surviving mates tended their equally exhausted animals and settled down to lick their wounds and await what would happen next with hollow eyes.
Part Two
Separate Paths
1863-1865
Chapter One
With the 9th Pennsylvania Cavalry
Army of the Cumberland
January, 1863
During the heat of battle the year had turned. The calendars read January 1863 for those who had such things. To the weary troops it was just another day in the endless stream … Prisoners had been taken and exchanged on both sides. Wounded were treated as best as could be done and the appalling number of dead buried. Work to repair the railroad began again while the Generals on both sides plotted their next moves.
The winter weather made any significant action difficult but the Union forces were content to let Johnny Reb sort himself out after his decision to withdraw from active confrontation despite the advantage the Confederates had gained during the actual battles.
Asa and his unit continued to engage in minor skirmishes with the enemy from time to time, but could see no hope for any resolution to the conflict in the near future. News from other battlefields was scarce and only rumors regarding the fighting in Mississippi or Virginia kept them from despair.
Thoughts of home and family filled the few quiet moments he managed at the end of the long, dark days. The work he had to do was physically hard and he found himself maturing from a scrawny boy into a strong and capable man. Rebecca came often to his mind and he agonized over her correspondence with Thomas. He did know she wrote to him too, he consoled himself, but were her letters to Thomas like the ones she sent to him?
Huddled over the small fire or tossing in his rough blanket bedroll the cavalryman tried to imagine a life without hardship and pain. The nights were long and dark and he wondered if he would ever again lay himself down in a room with a soft, cozy bed. What would it be like to slide under the coverlet and feel her soft warm body next to his? Some mornings the bugle call or the tug on his foot to waken him couldn’t come soon enough.
Gradually the daylight hours lengthened. The mountain streams, flush with the melting snow, sent their cold clear waters bubbling down the rocky creek beds and spilled over into small waterfalls. The horses grew restless with the urge to run free in the high meadows. Asa and his fellow cavalrymen itched to saddle up and break out of the monotony of the daily routine. The two armies were still prodding and poking at one another with very little result. Something, anything, had to happen soon. A flurry of riders coming and going set tongues to wagging but still nothing seemed to change. Word was that Sherman had departed from the siege at Vicksburg and was on his way eastward. Their own General Rosecrans was said to be rethinking his strategy and from what the troops could see was shifting enlisted men and officers around a bit, but to what purpose the men couldn’t tell. The Confederate General Bragg was presumably doing the same if the occasional skirmishes were any indication. A general feeling of unease began to permeate the camp and tempers grew short.
Chapter Two
With the 141st Pennsylvania Infantry
Army of the Potomac
Somewhere Near Washington, D.C.
February, 1863
Thomas Hickok took pen in hand to write his letter letting his mind envision the intended recipient back home. It’s been said that “absence makes the heart grow fonder,” he mused with a smile while unfolding the sheet of paper he intended to use. I think that must be true, ‘cause I sure do think Miss Becky is the prettiest girl I’ve ever known.
“What’s that you’re mumbling about Hickok?” his best buddy laughed. “Talking to yourself again? You’d better watch that or they’ll have you locked up in the crazy house if they hear you.”
The young soldier grinned, his cheeks flushing bright pink. “You’d be crazy too if you could see her…with those dark eyes big enough to melt your heart and her silky hair all tied up with ribbons. Funny how all these years I’ve known her I never noticed before just how pretty she is.”
“Well, you’d better find some fancy words to tell her you finally did, if you really mean it. Good luck with that. I’m no good at all with the ladies and the sweet talk they all seem to want to hear.”
“Well, it’s not you doin’ the writin’ and she won’t want me to say anything so personal in a letter…it’s just that we’ve known each other since we was kids and I never paid much attention to how she looked. I just always liked her. You know my f
riend, Wes? Yeah, well, she’s his sister and she writes to him and me sometimes. I figured it was time I wrote back before we get called out again.” He painstakingly penned a few innocent words about snow and sleigh-riding and drew on enough courage to sign it “your affectionate friend.” He hoped that wasn’t too bold.
To his relief, Rebecca Kunkle had quickly answered back and he’d taken heart and wrote again mentioning that he recently had seen her brother Wesley and he looked well. He and his boyhood friend had volunteered separately but somehow both had been assigned to the Army of the Potomac that was protecting the Federal Capitol. So far they’d escaped injury in the multiple skirmishes and the several serious battles in and around what had been the state of Virginia and was now considered rebel territory. His thoughts went back to his arrival here two years earlier. Green as grass we were and full of spit and vinegar, he muttered under his breath. Us Pennsylvanians were among the first to answer the president’s call for troops. We all knew that our Governor was determined to see that his state would do its part to “preserve the Union.” It would be a grand adventure we were sure. It seemed like we’d barely set foot off the train before we were lined up and marched off to someplace in Virginia called Manassas. Some southern General named Beauregard was threatening Washington we were told and it was up to us to stop him. I don’t think Old Abe had even warmed up his Presidential seat before we were ordered into battle. Of course, we all agreed, that’s what we’d come for. Never in my life before or since have I seen such horror. Twice we were called out to defend the railway and keep the Johnnies on their side of the river. Seemed so strange to me how familiar everything looked…the rivers and streams and some mountains just like ours and then the farms and small villages, I could have been home in Rush for all I knew. “Home,” he whispered aloud and smiled, thinking of Rebecca. “I’ll bet she won’t even recognize me after all this time.” He rubbed his hand over the shadow of a beard he was trying to cultivate.
Eyeing the blank paper he pondered what to write about. Not much was happening where he was lately. As for what might be going on out in the western portions of the warring states, he heard almost nothing from his older brothers and knew as far as the rest of the family was concerned only that his grandmother and uncles were planning to move to Michigan when the weather permitted. He supposed that due to David’s wound he would likely go with them. What Asa was up to, he had no idea.
Not getting much news from anyone leaves me wondering what I’ll want to do when this mess is done and over with, he groused, putting his writing implements aside and hurrying to tidy up his quarters before the morning inspection. Giving the space one last look he straightened up, buttoned his collar and sighed. Hearing the tramp of heavy boots announcing the arrival of the inspection detail on its daily rounds he impatiently tugged at the tightly tucked blanket on his cot one more time and snapped himself to attention as the sergeant stepped into the tent.
No words passed between them and when the inspector left Thomas retrieved his scrap of paper hoping to finish his letter. He knew it would be read by a censor before posting so he took care not to mention anything about the rigid training and anxious waiting that their regiment had been subject to lately. He most definitely did not mention that they were being instructed in how to fight with the bayonet. He shuddered to himself every time they lined up to practice. Could I ever really bring myself to do such a thing? He wondered. He also did not mention anything about the reality of being in battle. There was no need for a young woman to even be told of such things.
Relaxing for the few minutes left before being summoned to the morning drill Thomas allowed the memories of the past two years to float through his mind. This Army of the Potomac he was part of had passed through the hands of several commanding generals during those long months. Just this past November their original commander, General McClellan, who President Lincoln felt had not been aggressive enough, was replaced by General Burnside who’d ended up leading the troops into a messy battle near Fredericksburg this past December. The troops had named it “The Great Mud March.” Apparently President Lincoln had not been happy with the results of that effort either. On January the twenty-sixth General Burnside found himself relieved of his duty and headed elsewhere. When the word had passed through the ranks that President Lincoln was replacing General Burnside with someone known as “Fightin’ Joe Hooker” the troops were edgy not knowing what to expect next. Too many bloody battles were being fought and not enough ground gained. Hopes were up that Fightin’ Joe might have better luck. This entire war was going on too long with no end in sight.
The bugle sounded “assembly” alerting Thomas and his squad to turn out for the usual drill. Hurrying out from their tents into the cold damp air, they responded with little enthusiasm. “It’s all we do these days,” someone grumbled. “I sure do hope this “Fightin’ Joe” guy appreciates how good we are at marchin’. Thomas shouldered his rifle and bit back the remark he’d been about to make. Maybe they should be thankful all they had to do these days was look like soldiers, he thought. Some of those reports from the battlefields were enough to put the fear of God into a man. Good thing it don’t show, he muttered, hoping that was true.
Despite those two Bull Run battles and several others equally as fierce but with no apparent gain, The Army of the Potomac had spent most of its time recently regrouping and defending the Capitol. Thomas frowned, remembering that George, the older of Rebecca’s brothers, had been captured, paroled and captured again at both of those Bull Run affairs. Better than dead, I guess, but from what I hear about those southern prisons, maybe not. One thing for certain is that he’ll never be the same fellow he was. She doesn’t say much about him in her letters but I suppose she would rather not talk about it. Plucky little thing she is. He grinned and patted the breast pocket where he’d tucked the letter…pretty, too, but, he laughed, I guess I already said that.
Chapter Three
The Hickok Farm
Rush, Pennsylvania
Winter’s End, 1863
David threw open the door to the front yard and sniffed the still chilly air. The wagon was piled high with crates and boxes of things his grandmother could not bear to leave behind. Smiling to himself he recalled his arrival home last fall. She’d met him at the door as if he’d never left and once he was seated at the table with dinner in front of him she’d begun explaining her plans to move west. “I’ve decided we should hunt up your father. It’s about time he remembered he has a mother who needs to know what mischief he has managed to get himself into. Some of the others are ready to accompany us and Justus is more than willing to take over the farm here.
“I know, I know,” she’d paused, “you are concerned about Asa and Thomas. Well, I’m not getting any younger and who knows when this awful business about preserving the Union will be over. When they come home they can decide for themselves whether they want to stay on here or follow us west. You know well as I do that both of them will be grown men by then. I think they can make up their minds without our help, don’t you?”
From her familiar determined tone of voice David knew there would be no use arguing. “Whatever you think is best, Granny,” he’d answered resigning himself to help her do whatever she had in mind.
“Of course,” she’d surprised him by adding, “this is not a very good time to set out for anywhere and you do need to recover from your wound and all those terrible experiences. Spring will be soon enough, I should think and we will be able to prepare properly. I’ve had this in mind ever since hearing about that Homestead Act. It’s just perfect for us, you and I, together,” she grinned, her eyes twinkling, “I know we can do it! It will be a grand adventure and I’m delighted that God has spared you to come with me.”
Now the winter had passed peaceably enough and as the first hint of red in the upper branches of the maples appeared she’d announced one morning at breakfast that “the time for leaving has arrived,
” He’d come in from the barn and noticed her usual placid demeanor had changed. She seemed edgy and he smiled. The perennial pain in his shoulder seemed sharper that morning, but flexing it while kneading the stiff muscle with his fingers, David tried to dispel the moment of uncertainty. Did his intrepid grandmother really understand the magnitude of their undertaking? Traveling through Pennsylvania’s “Endless Mountains” as folks were beginning to label them would be a difficult journey for young and fit pioneers. Could he, with a bad arm and an elderly woman, truly manage to successfully traverse all those rutted and probably, more often than not, muddy miles?
“Well,” he told himself, “we are not going alone and she is obviously not to be dissuaded so we might just as well climb aboard and get started.”
Over the past few days he’d begun to realize she had been preparing for this day all winter long. All she wished to bring was packed and ready to be loaded and from what he could tell she’d made her peace with leaving this place she’d called home for many years.
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