When Johnny Comes Marching Home

by Lillian M. Henry

  The rattle of wagon wheels and clip clop of the horses’ hooves drew his attention. Those of the family who were to accompany them were coming up the road. Quickly taking one last glance around David went to collect Betsey from the parlor who he realized was suddenly looking a little uncertain herself.

  “You wanting to change your mind, Granny?” He smiled and pretended not to see the teardrops glistening behind the hankie she was waving in front of her face.

  “Of course not!” She firmed her chin and purposely stood with her bonnet in hand. Looking in the hall mirror she donned it carefully, adjusting it just so and tied the ribbons with those dexterous fingers he’d marveled at since he was a boy. How many pie crusts and biscuits had those hands rolled out and all the other things like mending torn britches, and soothing fevered brows…he found himself choking up at the thought of leaving all that was familiar, so very dear to them both. She offered her hand to him and nodded. “Let’s go,” she whispered, “wondrous things await us.”

  His uncles, Thaddeus and John, with their wives and families were grouped on the front lawn anxious to be on their way.

  `David paused in the doorway suddenly aware of how small the group was to be. He wondered yet again where his brothers Asa and Thomas were this morning and felt a frisson of fear in his stomach as he wondered how they would feel to come home and find them gone.

  Granny’s hand was on his arm and he looked down at her to see the determination in her eyes. “All will be well,” she whispered. Let’s do this!”

  David inhaled deeply and handed her up into the wagon.

  Those not going cheered and waved enthusiastically when the little convoy finally started down the road. From what he could observe it wasn’t just the women who had tears in their eyes. Again he wondered it this wasn’t some sort of huge mistake. He really didn’t know whether he was anxious to meet the father he hardly remembered after all these years, but if Granny had her heart set he would do his best to get her there safely.

  To his great surprise, when they reached the main road Granny directed him to head for Wilkes Barre. “Wilkes Barre?” he exclaimed, “that’s a bit out of our way don’t you think?”

  “Just do it,” she smiled. “I’ve been thinking it over and decided it made no sense to haul these wagons with all this stuff over six hundred miles or so when we can sit comfortably on the train and load most of this baggage into the freight car that just rides along behind us. It will be much easier and a lot safer. You must agree with that,”

  “Well, yes, of course, I agree with that, but can we afford it?”

  She smiled again and patted her purse, “you just let me worry about that. Your grandfather did not leave me destitute my boy, and your Uncle Justus was more than willing to pay me a fair price for the farm.” She patted his hand. “You didn’t really think I expected you to drive a team all that long way with your poor arm, now did you?”

  David’s eyes glistened dangerously and pulling his handkerchief from his pocket he wiped his face. “You might have told me sooner,” he groused more pleased than he wanted to admit.

  Betsey laughed merrily, delighted with herself. “It was a surprise,” she chortled. “Everyone knew but you!”

  When their little convoy reached the depot it took some time getting their trunks on board and the wagons and horses loaded but finally the men had it all figured out. The women gratefully settled in their seats with the excited children and the little group was under way at last. David sank into the rough-textured cushions with a long sigh. Granny was happily chattering away with her unmarried daughter, Esther, as the others were arranging themselves for the journey. He eyed them all with tolerant bemusement realizing they had known they would be traveling by train and seemed to be well-prepared. He examined his calloused hands ruefully. If I’d known I wasn’t going to have to drive all that way I might have done a few things differently, but I’m not one to look a gift horse in the face. Loosening his collar and unbuttoning his vest he attempted to make himself more comfortable.

  “Michigan,” he muttered. “I’m not even sure I know where or how far Michigan is much less what to expect when we get there. The view through his sooty window did not encourage him. The rocky defile through which the train was traveling seemed impossibly narrow and appeared likely to go on forever. Closing his eyes the weary soldier attempted to block out the excited voices surrounding him. Thank God for Uncle Thaddeus, he thought. I never would have managed all that business with the freight manager getting the horses and wagons loaded not to mention the amount of baggage these women seemed to feel they must bring along. His mind boggled at the number of trunks and dressers they had insisted were absolute necessities.

  A long, lonesome-sounding whistle interrupted his thoughts. His stomach clenched as a shiver of anxiety rippled through his body. The shoulder wound throbbed. David felt someone slide into the seat beside him and he flinched. “Here,” the soft voice said, “it’s coffee and it’s hot. It will make you feel better.’ He peered at his hand as the weight of the warm cup roused him for the moment.

  Thaddeus’ wife, Sallie, smiled. “It is all a bit overwhelming, isn’t it? I must confess I’m a bit frightened. Things are happening so fast.”

  David sipped silently but nodded his head in agreement. “Thanks for the coffee,” he finally managed to say. “It feels sort of like the way it was in the Army, nothing to do but stand by and wait for orders and then have to hurry to keep up when something finally did happen. Try not to worry, Sallie. Whatever is going to happen will happen soon enough, so better rest while you can.”

  Somewhere a child squealed. Sallie sighed and rose quickly to attend to it. The whistle shrieked for every path that crossed the track as the train thundered through the fields and woodlands of the countryside. The thick pall of black smoke cloaking the cars sifted into the open windows causing the women to beg the men to close them. David felt himself growing drowsy as his breathing began to match the rhythm of the wheels. The view from the speckled windows seemed never to change as the miles clicked by like an endless stream. The throbbing in his shoulder slowly subsided into a dull ache and David shifted his weight, set the empty coffee cup aside and let the motion soak into his body.

  As night fell and the rattle and swaying of the cars lulled most everyone else into a restless slumber, David eased himself from his seat and went looking for a place to stretch his legs and rub his stiffened shoulder. The women had bedded down the smaller children wherever there was space and the older ones, along with the adults, sought out whatever comfort they could find. Food had been distributed through the cars by porters but it was rudimentary at best. “Camping out with our wagons might have been a better idea after all,” the ex-military man muttered to himself while eyeing the array of curled up or sprawling bodies in the dimly flickering light.

  Another long, searing cry of the whistle echoed from the surrounding hills. A sudden tug at his heart brought tears to his eyes and he held his breath wondering just where in all that darkness his younger brothers might be. He still flinched at sudden noises and couldn’t help but reach for the weapon he no longer carried when memories of the evil that lurked in shadowy forests and fields surfaced in his tormented brain. The thought of Asa, Thomas and all the others huddled in their meager blankets waiting for what the dawn might bring gnawed at his gut. “Damn,” he whispered, “I need a smoke or maybe a drink, but this is no place for that.”

  The train rounded a bend throwing him off balance for a moment. Catching himself he noticed someone was watching him from the passageway between the cars. The bulky figure stepped into the dim light, blocking David’s way back into the car.

  “Feelin’ poorly?” a voice rasped.

  David grunted a response but was in no mood for small talk. “Just needed a breath of air,” he murmured moving toward the opening.

  “You’ll pardon my askin’?” the man said
with an unpleasant accusatory tone. “You look to be a healthy sort, of military age I’d say. Seems to me with all this talk of conscription these days a strappin’ young fellow like you should be joinin’ up not headin’ in the opposite direction.”

  David stubbed out what was left of his cigarette and squared his shoulders. “Don’t see that’s any of your business one way or the other,” he answered curtly.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that, sonny. What’s your problem? Skeered?” He chuckled and spread his arms across the entry daring David to push him aside.

  Gritting his teeth the ex-cavalry man moved closer to his tormentor determined to ignore the taunts. Without warning the man shoved his fist into David’s shoulder with a snarl. “Coward!” He muttered. “Good men fighting’ and dyin” everyday and here you are all plump and pretty traveling with your passel of fine ladies, children and old men.”

  Dizzy from the pain, David lunged forward just as the man moved aside. Stumbling and sure he was about to fall from the swaying platform, he clutched at the older man’s coat and hung on. The two struggled for a long minute until David became aware of his grandmother’s voice berating his assailant.

  “Watch your mouth, you son of the devil! That man you’re insulting is a bona fide wounded hero of the battle of Perrysville!” She swung her arm swatting the insolent pest on the head with her heavy purse. The other women were right behind her and with a flurry of skirts and shawls created a fine melee. The conductor was now on the scene and order was restored by the time David’s uncles and cousins arrived.

  Betsy, clucking and making noises that, if he didn’t know better, sounded very much like curses, helped him to his seat and produced a flask from somewhere. “Here,” she said, “have a swallow, for medicinal purposes, of course.” She poured a dram and handed him the cup before returning to her seat to smooth down her ruffled feathers.

  David watched to see if she had a nip herself but couldn’t tell. He sighed and settled back attempting to ignore the half-hidden grins of the other men in the car. His own lips twitching, he wasn’t all that sure whether he wanted to laugh or cry. Women! God bless ‘em.

  Fishing his handkerchief from his back pocket he blew his nose.

  Chapter Four

  The Kunkle Farm

  Rush, Pennsylvania

  Spring of ’63

  Thank goodness there is this spring cleaning to do, Rebecca grumbled to herself. This place seems so empty with the Hickoks gone and my brothers still off fighting this awful war. She’d managed to haul the carpets out-doors and pin them to the clothes line that morning and now she swung the wire beater without much enthusiasm. Only small puffs of dust were emanating from the braided ovals and her arm ached already. She lifted her long hair from her neck and attempted to twist it back up into its usual knot.

  The trees were leafing out and the birds were chirping as they darted about snatching at the swarms of insects rising from the damp ground. She lifted the carpet beater again. “I hate this job!” she muttered aloud. “Why do we need rugs on the floors anyway? They just keep on getting dirty and then I have to whack away at them again. The boys used to do this and managed to make it look like fun. It’s just a dirty job, if you ask me, and my sisters are no help.”

  She paused, hearing the rattle of the shopkeeper’s wagon coming up the road. “Oh, please,” she prayed, “let there be some news today. It’s been months since any of them have written.”

  She waved as the rig trundled by without a word from the driver. Usually he would wave to let her know if there was mail for them. She frowned and went disconsolately back to plying the beater with very little result. She wasn’t sure any more where her brothers were and Thomas Hickok hadn’t sent even a line in ever so long. She smiled, thinking of Thomas and the fun they’d had together. The letters he’d sent at first were so earnest and most always full of information…too bad he can’t spell very well she chuckled while wiping away a tear. “At least he writes,” she muttered giving the dirty rug another whack or two. “That Asa promised he would keep in touch too but has never even put pen to paper so far as I can tell.” The thought that he might be writing to someone else crossed her mind and she whacked the innocent rug again and headed for the house.

  “What’s got you all in a snit?” her mother asked looking up from the washtub full of bed linens and pillow cases.

  “Oh, nothing that matters, I guess. The postman went by again with no word from any of the boys at all. You’d think one of them would take the time to send us something, wouldn’t you?”

  Sarah Spragle Kunkle smiled wearily and attempted to straighten her back. Rebecca quickly went to her side and helped her to the nearby rocker.

  “Rest yourself, Ma,” she begged. “I told you I would do that. All that lifting is too much for you these days.” Worried, she went to the stove hoping the kettle still held some hot tea. “Here, drink this now and have a biscuit,” she urged her mother, handing her the delicate piece of china that she knew was the older woman’s favorite cup. “I know we should be more patient, but we get so little news from anywhere out here that I do believe the world could come to an end and we’d never know it until sometime next month.”

  Smiling indulgently, Sarah sipped and peered at her distressed daughter over the rim while savoring the fragrant liquid. “Sit,” she said, motioning with her other hand. “Now that Catherine and Martha have taken work away from home, you’re trying to do too much. You’ve tired yourself out with all those heavy rugs. I told you to just leave them for later.”

  “Later will not be any easier, be just like it to rain while they’re all hanging out there. I’ll get it done; maybe not so well as George and Jacob used to but good enough. It’s just that I can’t help wondering what they all are up to. We haven’t heard a thing about George, you’d think the Army would tell us if he has been paroled and I haven’t had word from Wesley or the Hickok boys lately either. Ever since Miss Betsey and the others took off I feel as if we’re the only ones left in this part of the world. Absolutely nothing happens around here any more.”

  Pulling the pins from her hair she let it down and ran her fingers through the twisted locks with impatience. “All we ever hear about is this war!” She bit back the rest of her complaint realizing talk like this just upset her mother even more. I can’t imagine what it must be like for them she thought and rose to pump more water into the kettle. She added a little to the beans that were simmering on the back of the stove and looked around for a bit of the fat back they always added for flavor.

  Counting back Rebecca was startled to realize the last letter she’d received from Thomas Hickok had been quite some time ago. He’d said then that they were comfortable in their camp outside of the Capitol and that he’d seen Wesley who looked well, but he’d also mentioned their newest commander, General Hooker or somebody was getting ready to take the field and he hoped the whole business would be over soon. “Taking the field,” scared her. That was sure to mean more battles. A shiver ran down her back and she set her tea cup aside. Twisting her hair back into its knot she tied a kerchief around her head. “I’ll try to finish those rugs, Ma,” she said and added, “leave the rest of that wash until I can come back and help you. It’s getting too late to hang it outside anyway. Why don’t you just sit and peel some potatoes for supper. Mary Frances and Ella will be back from school in just a bit and Pa will be hungry when he comes in.” She forced a smile and motioned to the toddler playing on the floor. “Want to come with me, Sarah? I’m going to check the cold frames while I’m out back, we might have a few greens coming up by now.” The three-year-old jumped up clutching the rag doll she’d been pretending to feed but shook her head “No!” She announced in no uncertain terms. “I stay here wiv Mama.”

  Rebecca sighed, fetched her sweater and returned to the task she was determined to finish. A few more swats at the carpets satisfied her and she left them hanging unti
l her father or older sisters could help her take them down and roll them up. Frustrated by her inability to comprehend where her brothers were and what they might be doing, she wandered down to the as yet unplowed fields and allowed the tears to flow. As if it isn’t bad enough that I have to worry about our boys, she moaned. Poor Ma is worried sick and there’s nothing I can do to help. I still can’t quite understand why the Hickoks took off for who knows where when Tom and Asa are still off to war. Whatever will those two think when they come home to find them gone?

  She scuffed her toe at the clods of earth waiting for the plow and grimaced. “What am I thinking? Of course David would have let them know. But,” she murmured,” I still can’t imagine how they must feel… everyone going off like that and leaving them behind. Of course, they don’t have much choice do they? Maybe they will just go west too when the Army lets them leave. I never thought about that.

  Staring at the surrounding hillsides just beginning to show signs of renewed life, Rebecca sighed. Oh, she breathed and asked herself silently, what will I do if they decide to do that? We’ve grown up together. I can’t imagine never seeing them again. She dashed the threatening tears from her eyes and uncovered a dried up potato that had been overlooked last fall. Picking it up she turned it over and over in her hand than threw it with all her might into the rocks that lined the field. “I’m beginning to feel just like that potato,” she muttered, “all shriveled up and of no use to anyone.”

  News of the terrible bloody battle at Chickamauga had slowly seeped across the mountains into their little town of Rush. The men still at home gathered at the mill and spoke of nothing else for days. Rebecca thought only of Asa whose face as he rode away that morning so long ago now seemed to be hovering in the corners of her mind more and more often these days.