The 9th was making its way through Tennessee toward Chickamauga, Georgia hoping to rid that state of rebels for good after the bloody and what most of the men thought had been a pointless battle at Stones River last year. Their General Rosecrans had distinguished himself however when he dug in and held the line against Bragg’s Confederate forces despite the heavy losses on both sides. It seemed to Asa, although he didn’t ever say so, that all those dead and wounded men were nothing more than grist for the mill in the generals’ scheme of things. Angry for the moment at the cost in lives of this attempt by the South to form its own separate country, he dug his heels into the horse’s side causing it to protest and break into a canter. His friends laughed again but backed off when getting a look at the set of his jaw. Months of hard labor repairing and maintaining the railroads interrupted by constant skirmishing and lack of any real progress from their point of view was taking its toll on everyone. Keeping their supply lines open was important he knew but that was not exactly what any of them had thought they had signed up to do.
The men, trying to stay alert in the warm sun, sat slouched in their saddles, tired, hungry and thirsty. They’d heard their ranks had been reinforced by other units including some of Sherman’s “bummers,” but so far had not made contact with them. No one had any idea what this place they were headed for was like…some river called the Chickamauga that ran between Tennessee and Georgia.
“The Cherokee call it the ‘River of Death.’ They say its red color comes from the blood that’s been spilt in it over the years. Bad omen if you ask me.” Asa smiled wryly overhearing the comment but not sure who had made it. More likely it’s from the red earth I see everywhere, he thought… strange how even the dirt here is different from ours at home.
A rider from the point rode up proclaiming a halt for food and water was to be made. “The General wants to go into position for battle this evening. Word has it the Rebs are up ahead but we’re not sure where. Best to eat your rations cold, smoke from fires would be sure to announce our arrival.”
The battle was joined the following morning at a place named Snodgrass Hill. Another slaughter of human life ensued and Asa was again sickened by the toll. As his outfit regrouped that evening they learned that Rosecrans had deployed his troops well and felt quite sure the day was theirs when a scout had ridden up with a report of movement on his flank. From what the weary troops were hearing ole’ Rosie had quickly pulled a unit from the center of his line to meet the new threat not realizing it was a feint on the part of the enemy. This mistake had laid the middle of his line open to penetration. The rebel General Bragg had made good use of his opponent’s error and saved the day for his Confederates.
Asa and his outfit sat silently smoking around their campfires as the long day drew to a close, shocked to learn that after the battle their trusted and respected commander had become extremely agitated and apparently suffered a mental breakdown as his army was retreating to Chattanooga. Again the toll of dead, wounded and missing was beyond their worst nightmares and the army hunkered down in despair.
By next morning word was sweeping through the ranks that the President had hastily dispatched Ulysses S. Grant to take control of the situation. All the troops knew about Grant was that he liked his whiskey but upon his arrival they were relived to learn that the man had managed to rally them and intended to pursue the scattered rebel forces. The ensuing battle of Chattanooga was a Union success.
The 9th, still under the command of Major Thomas Jefferson Jordan gathered itself and continued to make its way across Tennessee almost constantly engaging in action against the enemy. The autumn months passed in a blur. Their victories helped encourage the dispirited troops who managed to arrive reasonably intact at Mossy Creek and Talbot Station shortly before Christmas where they found themselves engaged in battle once again.
Asa’s sense of responsibility to his fellows and the satisfaction they, as a group, had gained from their successes began to give him pause in his few quiet moments. Not only his, but the entire group’s enlistment was coming to an end. He and they would soon have to make a decision.
Part Three
1864-1865
Resolutions
Chapter One
With the 9th Pennsylvania Cavalry
Army of the Cumberland
Mossy Creek, Tennessee,
January, 1864
One does not quit in the middle of the fight, Asa vowed and having been promoted to Corporal six months ago he and those of his unit who were considered eligible and so inclined, reenlisted for the duration. He had made up his mind to see this through to the end. Having a few minutes free later that afternoon he sat down to do something he’d been thinking about for some time now.
“Dear Miss Kunkle,” Asa licked the end of the stub of pencil he held in his hand and thought for a moment. That sounded too formal he decided. After all we’ve known each other since we were children. She’ll wonder what’s happened to me. Heaving a sigh he hunched over the small slip of paper he had liberated from the last shop he and his mates had torched earlier. Crossing it out, he started again…
“Dear Friend,” that didn’t sound right either…she might think he’d forgotten her name.
“Dear Miss Becky, please forgive me for being so clumsy but you are so much in my thoughts right now that I don’t know how to address you properly. It seems like a lifetime since I have seen you. I’m not sure you would recognize me any more. I hardly recognize myself. We passed through this town this afternoon and I saw myself in the mirror in the barbershop. Skeered me half to death! My hair is long and ragged-looking and my beard is bushier than old Mr. What’s-his-name up the road from you. You know who I mean? We kids were sort of afraid of him. The boys here are getting’ reel tired of all this marching and sleepin’ on the cold muddy ground. I do have to say the food has been better since we’ve moved down out of the mountains and into good farm land. Movin’ so many of us like we do is quite somethin’ to see. Lucky me, I still have my horse, since I’m cavalry and ridin’ is a lot better than walkin’, I’ll tell you that. We have been doin’ a bit of fightin’ these days and I sure do hope it is helpin’ to bring this to an end. Not too much more to say. One day is pretty much like the other. I sure do miss you and home of course, but it will feel strange to be there with Granny and the others gone.
It’s been awhile since we’ve had any big battles, I suppose we should be thankful for that. Seems like all we have to do is just keep plodding along. Every now and then Johnny Reb takes a run at us and we give them as good as they give us. Nobody here can see any sign this business is anywhere near done with. The people we see as we pass through their towns are understandably not very friendly unless we have something they want from us. Sorry, I don’t imagine you want to hear about that. I just felt like I wanted to sit down and talk to you like we used to every once in a while. I’m not very good at talking, especially to girls but you already know that. You were the only one I ever felt understood what I was trying to say. Do give my best to your Ma and Pa. I don’t hear from Tom very much so I have no idea how he and your brothers are. We did get some news about that nasty business at Gettysburg but I have no way of knowing if my brother Thomas and your Wesley came through it okay. Has George been paroled yet? Sure hope so. Those southern prisons are nothin’ but hell holes, I’m told. Pardon my swearing. I’m okay. My time was coming to an end soon but I’m thinking like my Grandpa always said, no way should you walk away from a job that isn’t finished so this is to let you know that I have reenlisted in what they call the Veteran’s Volunteer Corps and that I am now Corporal Hickok. How about that? Those of us that signed up have been given a thirty day furlough so we can go home and try to get new recruits to help us finish up this nasty business. Like I said about my Grandpa, I’ve promised to stay until this is over. Can’t be soon enough for me, I admit, but I think he would approve.
It sure will feel good
to be comin’ up the road and see you standin’ there…I sure do hope you will be standin’ there, Miss Becky. It won’t seem right to me if you’re not. I better close and hurry to catch the courier before he leaves. He don’t wait for any one. So I’ll say goodbye for now. Your friend always, Asa Hickok
Chapter Two
With the 141st Pennsylvania Infantry
Army of the Potomac
Somewhere Near Washington, D.C.
January, 1864
Still heavy-hearted from the loss of his friend, Thomas Hickok took his pen in hand to write his letter letting his mind envision the intended recipient back home. After receiving the news that Wesley had died he’d done his best to express his sorrow and concern for her and her family but none of the words had felt like enough. She’d been kind enough to answer him and begged him to continue letting her know how he was faring. Tonight he sat thinking about the two of them growing up as neighbors and friends. It’s been said that ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’, he smiled 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.”
“You’d be crazy too if you could see her…with those 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 just how pretty she was.”
“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 I don’t mean so …it’s just that we’ve known each other since we was kids and I never paid much attention to what she looked like. You knew my friend Wes? The one I told you died from that wound he took at Gettysburg? Yeah, well, she’s his sister and she writes to me when she gets a chance. I figured it was time I wrote back to her.
Last winter he’d painstakingly penned a few innocent words about snow and winter sleighing and drew on enough courage to sign “your affectionate friend.” He’d hoped that wasn’t too bold. To his relief and delight Rebecca had answered back and he took heart and wrote again mentioning that he had seen her brother Wesley a few times and he looked well. He and his boyhood friend had been assigned to the same outfit but didn’t see each other all that often. Duty with the forces protecting the Federal Capitol kept them both busy. Until July past they’d escaped injury in the skirmishes and battles in and around what had been the state of Virginia but now Wesley was dead. Her brother George had earlier been captured at Bull Run and she’d not mentioned whether or not he’d been paroled yet. Her other brother, Jacob, was with a New Jersey outfit and he’d lost track of his whereabouts but knew it was also somewhere in the Potomac area.
This winter was waning and the restless soldiers were beginning to believe they were never going to break out of this stalemate. Times like sleigh-riding and snowball fights were almost forgotten memories from a childhood that seemed like another life entirely. Thomas’s letters to Rebecca and his family did not reveal the boredom and anxious waiting his Infantry Regiment was subject to. He’d heard very little from his brother Asa and knew only that his older brother David with his grandmother and some of the uncles were all busy settling into their new homes in Michigan. He couldn’t help but wonder what the father he really didn’t remember at all must have felt when they all showed up.
With his thoughts on Miss Kunkle Thomas leaned back on his bunk and tried to imagine life back in Rush. When he finally got there would he want to stay or leave? Would she come with him if he found enough courage to propose? “You’re daft man,” he mumbled. “What would you be wanting with a wife at that point? A man has to have means before he gets married.” He grinned sheepishly when his buddy chuckled and asked “What’s that about a wife, Hickok? You thinking about getting’ married? What sensible woman would have you? You’re hardly old enough to shave yet.”
Thomas bridled, pretending to be offended. “I may not have a beard like that raggedy thing you have, but even if I do say so myself, the ladies all seem to like me well enough. Maybe it’s my smooth cheeks and long dark eyelashes?”
“Yeah, right. They might get you a kiss or two, but a woman looking for a husband is going to pay more attention to his strong arms and back and possibly his pocketbook.”
“Well, buddy, all I can say, is the girls I know seem to go for that boyish charm they claim I have…not to my face, of course, but I do hear what they’re whispering behind those giggles.” Thomas reached for the harmonica he kept under the folded clothes he used for a pillow and fingered a few notes before striking up a version of one of the latest music hall tunes he’d heard the company band playing the other night.
Several of his other bunkies roused themselves, reaching for their assorted instruments and soon their quarters vibrated with the sound of banjoes and fiddles. In the distance other voices with soft southern accents joined in. For a few fleeting moments Johnny Reb and Billy Yank allowed their innate brotherhood to overcome the differences caused by their clash of cultures.
Chapter Three
On Furlough
Rush, Pennsylvania
Still January, 1864
A typical January thaw greeted Asa as he stepped down from the train. Wearing his well-worn uniform he worried that the local folks might not be too happy to see him. Hefting his haversack, he stared around the platform at the rotting piles of dirty snow. Puddles that looked deep enough to soak into his boots were everywhere. From what he could see his only method of traveling any further was on foot unless he could find someone with a cart going his way.
Joining the other men he found loitering around the station Asa enquired about getting a ride north and was fortunate to hear someone calling his name. He spotted his home-town store-keeper’s wagon and noticed the man was shouting and waving his arms about. The weary soldier hurried toward him. “Son of a gun, am I glad to see you!” The two men cried out at the same time and laughed, slapping each other on the back with delighted grins.
“Well, Hickok, I sure never expected to see you here. Uncle Sam give you some time off for good behavior?”
“Something like that,” Asa answered. “Sure would ’preciate a lift, if you’ve got room.”
“Got two more sacks to load and I’m off. Lend a hand and we’ll get started.”
Covering the mail bags with a tarp and tying it down, the two climbed aboard and began the trip to Rush. Asa explained he’d been given the time off to try to recruit more men for his outfit which was a “few men short these days,” The shopkeeper eyed him skeptically and grunted. “Well, lots of luck with that my boy. Folks are gettin’ mighty tired of this war and don’t take kindly to those trying to persuade them to join up. I wouldn’t wear that uniform around here too much if I were you.” Asa grimaced upon hearing his fears confirmed.
“You do know, don’t you?” the man went on without noticing the effect of his words, “some of your family has moved on, Your brother and a couple of your uncles pulled out of here last year for Michigan. From what I hear they’re doin’ all right. Your Uncle Justus is running the farm these days, but things just don’t seem the same any more. All the young men like you are gone, if they’re of any account at all and just about everyone is feelin’ the pinch of shortages. Hard to get so much as a bag of penny nails.”
Asa rode in silence worried now that maybe he shouldn’t have come. The man’s voice broke into his reverie with a loud guffaw, “There’s one goin’ to be might glad to see you I’ll say… that young lady watches for me like a hawk.
Asa allowed himself a small smile u
nderstanding that he had to be referring to Rebecca. “How are the Kunkle’s?” he asked. “I’ve heard nothing from anyone for a long while now. Of course, our outfit is on the move most of the time so it’s a rare day for us when there is mail.”
“Well, young fella’, you better ask her yourself. The family had some bad news a while back. I’m surprised she hasn’t let you know. There she is, just like I said, watchin’ and wavin’. How do, Miss,” he grinned as the truck rattled to a stop. “I’ve brought you a package too big for your box, I’m afraid.” Rebecca startled then gasped when she peered through the dirty windshield and realized who was sitting there. Asa untangled himself from the piles of mailbags at his feet and leapt out wanting to take her in his arms and never let go. Restraining himself with effort he grasped her hands and swung her around like he used to when they were children. She stumbled and wrapped her arms around his neck to keep from falling.
“Oh! Oh!” She screamed when he stopped. “Oh, praises be to the Lord!” With tears running down her cheeks she hugged him tightly until he reached up for her arms and gently lowered them. Her parents arrived on the run and the grinning shopkeeper tooted the horn and drove on fumbling for his handkerchief. Asa released her reluctantly and turned to greet her folks with his cheeks flaming.
Nothing would do but for the four of them to go up to the house and have coffee before they would let him go. “Does Justus know you’re coming?” Rebecca’s father asked. “He’s kept it a secret if he does.”
“Well, sir, I don’t rightly know since I have no idea whether the mail I send ever gets through to you back here. I’ve reenlisted and been granted a thirty-day leave, some of which is already gone as you can imagine. It’s taken me a while to get here with the trains so irregular and all.” He drank the hot coffee gratefully and accepted several of the warm cakes that were coming from the oven. He suddenly realized how very tired he was and began to think he would wake up from this wonderful dream any minute now. Rebecca was hovering wanting to feel his arms around her again but tried to busy herself with fetching more butter and jam or whatever she could think of that he might want. Finally Asa reluctantly pushed himself away from the table and murmured that he really should be getting on. Taking his host by the hand he shook it firmly and begged permission to return that evening. John Kunkle’s eyes twitched as he grinned at his wife before assuring Asa that he was welcome to call any time.
When Johnny Comes Marching Home Page 8
