Shades of Gray: A Novel of the Civil War in Virginia

by Jessica James

  “He knows of his father’s accomplishments.”

  “But not yours?”

  “She speaks not of her past,” Daniel volunteered. “Never.”

  “There is nothing to speak of.”

  Pierce, Boz, and Gus looked at her in amazement. “The Colonel was proud of your deeds, your efforts on behalf of the Command,” Pierce said. “Surely your son has the right to know that.”

  “My husband died for what he believed a pure and holy duty,” Andrea said. “Anything I did for the Confederacy was for purely selfish reasons. I do not like to compare the two.”

  “You are mistaken if you believe that.” Pierce shook his head. “Your sacrifices are all the more significant that they were made on behalf of his Cause—not yours.”

  “I’d like to hear, Mother.”

  “It was a long time ago,” she insisted. “Things were different then.”

  “Indeed they were,” Pierce said, turning to Daniel. “She has told you nothing?”

  “Nothing at all, sir.”

  “Oh my, fellows, this is going to take awhile,” Pierce said.

  “Daniel, they will fill your head with outrageous stories,” Andrea said. “Let’s take a walk.”

  “But I’d like to hear, Mother.” Daniel sat firm with arms crossed, informing her he was not going to budge—and informing everyone else that not all of his traits had been inherited from his father’s side. “Sometimes I’m not sure I believe all of the stories you tell me about Father.”

  “You can believe them,” Pierce said. “All the better that you hear them from the mouths of those who fought beside him.”

  “If you men are going to tell war stories, go over under the trees,” Charlene interrupted, shooing them away. “I have work to do.”

  * * *

  The men, many of them with their sons, remained huddled in a circle in a grove of trees, talking noisily and laughing loudly. Some of their voices carried, and Andrea smiled at how affectionately they spoke of Alex as they fondly recalled scenes of the past.

  “They were firing on us hot and heavy,” she heard one say, “and we were both dismounted watching the action, when he turns to me and says in his low voice, ‘Harris it’s getting a little warm up here. Move over to the other side of your horse in case a bullet comes this way.”

  “I thought he was joking and told him, ‘but Kulnel, that’s the direction the bullets is coming from.’ And he says with a completely straight face, ‘I’m well aware of that, Harris, but good horses are a lot more scarce in Virginia right now than good men.’”

  Hoots of laughter swelled among the group causing other men to drift toward the gathering.

  “Hey, Hanson, you remember that fight with the 5th New York, don’t you?” Pierce said. “I think it was you that went and told the Colonel to move to the back.”

  “Yea, that was me,” Hanson said, his face turning red. “I told him to move to the back, ’cause they were shooting at him. And he looked at me with those deadly gray eyes and said, ‘Thank you for bringing that to my attention, sir, but they’ve been doing that for about three years now.’”

  The group howled and laughed, each picturing Colonel Hunter sitting aloofly on Dixie while bullets whizzed by his head, calmly giving orders and meting out advice.

  “Gus, you remember that time you rode in and told the Colonel there was an entire brigade coming our way?” Gus nodded and laughed. “And the Colonel said, ‘Good.’” At that point all of the men who were gathered around joined in, repeating the words that Hunter had spoken that day. “The more that are looking for us, the less that are fighting!”

  The men laughed, but they now knew how right he had been. Who could tell how many lives he had saved? Literally tens of thousands of Union soldiers had been kept guarding supply lines, railroads and outposts, that if not for Hunter, would have been in active service in the front.

  “What I can’t believe is how the Kulnel always kept where we were going a secret,” Hanson said. “And how we all followed him when we didn’t know where the hell we were even going.”

  “Yea, well, I almost got him to tell me once,” a man named Riley said, his chest puffed out with pride.

  Everyone looked over at him with questioning eyes. “It was winter sixty-four, I think, freezing cold, sleeting, boot-sucking muddy—”

  “Ah, the Kulnel’s favorite weather,” someone said, and everyone laughed.

  “Anyhow, I rode up and said, ‘So Kulnel whar we headin’?’ Well, he pulls his haws to a complete stop, leans over, puts his hand on my shouldah and says in his deep voice, ‘Riley, can you keep a secret?’ And of course I says, ‘Yes suh!’ And he says, ‘So can I. Don’t ever ask me that again!’”

  The group roared with laughter, making the old woods ring.

  * * *

  Andrea was in high spirits when Pierce took her arm to escort her to the program later, while Charlene stayed behind to care for the younger children. She found herself seated beside Carter in the front row, with Daniel beside her and Ellie and Pierce settling in to his left.

  When all had gathered, Carter walked up onto the stage to offer an official greeting to his friends and their families.

  “Comrades, welcome!” he began, smiling broadly as he gazed out over the crowd. “It is such a privilege to stand before you all once again as we gather to renew old acquaintances and pay tribute to those whose lives were sacrificed in the great struggle.” His smile suddenly faded, and his voice grew deep with emotion. “Today, as most of you know, is a day of special significance in its sad and sacred memories. Though time in its rapid flight has borne us on until we are fifteen years from that fateful hour, it is yet hard to gather together and not think of the vacancy left in our ranks when our comrade and commander yielded up his great, knightly soul for his country’s honor.”

  Andrea gazed up at Carter, beginning to figure out his motives for making her attend.

  “I need remind no one here of his magnetic influence as a leader of men. Whether leading a charge or standing as a mark for their shot and shell, one could not help but admire his gallant and virtuous conduct on and off the field of battle. He showed the enemy what a soldier should be. And he showed us all what a man should be.”

  When Carter paused, the awed hush of a common sorrow was deafening. Andrea reached for her son’s hand to steady the shaking of her own.

  “And now, his name, his fame, his lauded accomplishments shall remain as an honored legacy to all those who had the great honor of knowing him—and to those gathered here, who had the greater privilege of serving under him. Although we need no monument to let his memory live forever, we felt it our duty to share with future generations the embodiment of all that is noble and pure and honorable in a man. It is therefore with great pleasure that I unveil to you this day, a tribute in imperishable stone that will stand for all time as an enduring testament to the devotion, the valor and virtue of a legend.”

  With Carter’s final words a curtain fell, and the audience gasped in unison, and then roared with thunderous applause. Andrea sat mesmerized, staring in wondrous admiration at the sight of a daunting life-sized statue of her husband rising in mythical splendor from the soil of the green meadow. Her gaze roamed the manly figure seated firmly and gracefully on a rearing stone steed. It was just as she wished to remember him—reins taunt, Colt drawn, staring out over the horizon in the very direction of the battlefields where he had fought.

  Andrea never blinked as she took in every detail of the statue that reflected in meticulous detail her husband’s strength and grace. The coat he wore floated behind him as if from the fury of a great storm. His strong, powerful hand held firmly the reins, while his spurs were turned distinctly into his horse of stone. Her eyes drifted up to his face, chillingly and accurately portrayed. His jaw was set determinedly and his unforgettable eyes appeared to be literally blazing—as if gazing fearlessly into the eyes of Death. It was him: rugged, stalwart, impregnable as a mountain. She c
ould not help but tremble in its presence, so true was the likeness to that which was once flesh and bone.

  When the applause died down, Carter cleared his throat again. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have the additional honor and surprise today to be blessed with the attendance of Colonel Hunter’s widow, whose presence here proves with certainty that Southern and Northern hearts are indeed forever linked in a common destiny.”

  A solemn hush pervaded the sunny field, followed by a round of sparse and intermittent applause, as well as a few hushed whispers of utter dismay that a Yankee would be singled out among the crowd on this somber and glorious day.

  “And I am hoping she would be kind enough to say a few words.”

  Andrea looked up at him in horror and shook her head, but Carter stepped down and took her hand, giving her no choice but to follow. Stumbling blindly to the podium, she feared to gaze again at the image of the godlike spirit behind her, yet dreaded even more to gaze out at the blank, staring, scrutinizing faces of the crowd.

  When Carter left her side, Andrea stared down at the podium and then at the sky and then at her toes. “Good afternoon,” she finally said. “This is quite … quite a surprise … and overwhelming.”

  She cleared her throat. “I scarcely know what to say, but I am deeply humbled by your resolve to pay tribute to the virtue and patriotism of my husband… my late husband.” Andrea’s eyes rose and fell on Carter who just smiled and nodded encouragement, and then on Pierce who simply winked. She took another deep breath, lifted her head, and began.

  “As you can well imagine, I am more than a little apprehensive about standing before you today, for as most of you are aware, my heart, spirit and loyalty resided with the Union.”

  Andrea spoke the words with sentiment and passion, her head held high, her resolute and rebellious eyes scanning the crowd, not wavering from anyone who dared to meet them.

  “On the other hand,” she continued, “perhaps no one can have greater admiration for the brave soldiers of the Confederacy than those who opposed them and learned firsthand of their chivalrous conduct.” She paused for a moment and took a deep breath to calm her nerves, yet her stature denoted nothing but grace and poise and elegance. “I’m sure Colonel Hunter would be very proud of this tribute,” she said, turning around and glancing briefly at the monument, “and I know you must all feel, as I do, his presence with us here today.” At that moment a slight breeze stirred Andrea’s hair, and her cheeks turned rosy with emotion. With straight back and shoulders square, she gazed into the distance as if receiving divine strength from that which no one could see.

  “It has been a pleasure for me to mingle today with the remnants of this proud and gallant Command,” she began, her voice shaking ever so slightly, “to stand beside those who preferred death to dishonor, and showed the world how they valued the rights and liberties of their land. And though your Cause was not my own,” her eyes fell briefly on Pierce, “I can stand here today with unsurpassed admiration in the memory of your deeds.”

  A hush spread over the field as the audience held onto her every word, and all that could be heard was the gentle flapping of the Southern Cross as it fluttered in the breeze over Andrea’s head. “I believe the Colonel would be overwhelmed, and perhaps not a little dismayed, to be singled out with this honor, especially when gathered here today are the brave members of his Command, without whom he could never have achieved his revered reputation.”

  She looked out over the crowd again, picking out faces of men she knew, and remembering with brilliant clarity scenes of days long past. Before her were men whom she had once feared and despised—and whom she had grown to admire and respect. Many had more gray hairs, longer beards, and slower movements than when she had last seen them, but from their eyes she drew assurance and felt renewed strength and courage.

  “Despite my allegiance, I do not hesitate to laud your heroic devotion to your state and principles, as today we cast our eyes back to your noble and daring achievements. For I know that you fought and defended your homes, not in the spirit of anger or of hate, but in fulfillment of duty and a conviction for honor.” She paused. “As did I.”

  She lifted her eyes and stared out into the audience again, biting her cheek, and clasping her hands together to keep them from shaking. Her gaze fell on her son, and then on the young girl beside him, and she gained even more resolve. “When I look out over this field, I see the faces of the men who witnessed the Colonel’s knightly valor, not from afar—as many who adored him did—but beside him. You were there at all times with him, without complaint and without hope of reward, undaunted and fearless in your deeds of unprecedented and noble daring, obeying his every command in the heat and hell of battle, even when asked to follow him, countless times, into the very jaws of death. It was therefore through your devotion, your loyalty and your willingness to sacrifice all and brave all that he was able to accomplish the successes and the victories for which he is so well known and remembered.”

  The audience remained silent, though it now seemed more out of deference to her words than a deliberate act to not acknowledge who was speaking them. She spoke with such dignity and bearing and solemnity, that they were held captive.

  “Today, as you cast your eyes on the sacred emblem of the Confederacy, on the flag around which you rallied and beneath which brave comrades breathed their last, you can stand tall in the knowledge that your valor, your gallantry, your dauntless spirits have won for the South a glory that the wealth of the world could not purchase in all the tide of time.”

  Here Andrea paused, though had she wanted to she could not have continued. The hills suddenly trembled with a long, loud, rolling yell of unearthly proportions. The aging warriors were apparently unable to suppress their patriotic devotion any longer. Each, it appeared, was attempting to out-yell the other, or else they were desirous for their shouts to reach those in the heavens who had died too early to witness her devotional words.

  She waited for the Rebel yell to subside, and then, scanning the rolling hills in the distance, began again. “To you, the legions that served him, allow me to commend you once more on your brilliant feats and victories, which I can assure you, excited the admiration, aroused the envy, and stirred the patriotic blood of all who had the opportunity to witness them. Even your enemies.”

  The many bedewed eyes in the audience reflected the deep feelings being spawned by her words. Never in all the reunions past had a speaker been more intimately involved with the Command, nor more appropriately captured its spirit or the depth of its sacrifice or devotion. Many of the men sat in deference with uncovered heads in respectful silence as they listened with rapt attention.

  “Believe me when I tell you—” Andrea leaned forward and made eye contact with as many of the battle- and time-scarred veterans as she could. “Believe me when I tell you, the Colonel felt it his splendid privilege to serve beside you. To the end he thought of you, for you were as dear to his heart as the liberty and soil he defended. Please accept my deepest appreciation for your affectionate regard and devotion to him, and please know that he left this earth profoundly pleased, truly proud and sincerely grateful to have had the good fortune, and indeed the supreme honor, to call you his men.”

  Never did the old hills reverberate with heartier cheers, as it seemed an electric current surged through the crowd. Not a dry eye remained on the field, save perhaps a few dozen Virginian women who felt it their sacred duty to despise anything remotely Yankee, and believed it a horrible desecration of the gallant Colonel’s sacred memory to be honored by one—especially one who had trapped him into marriage when he was on his deathbed.

  Sure the war was over, but Colonel Hunter deserved better. It would be unnatural in the name of the Confederacy to honor one of its destroyers. It might be the Christian thing to do to forgive wrong, but it was not the Christian thing to honor wrong.

  * * *

  Pierce saw Andrea standing alone beneath the towering monument, staring at the
polished marble as dappled shadows from the lowering sun flickered across the inscription.

  “It appears you approve.”

  Andrea did not turn around, as if she knew he was there or expected that he would be. “I do not need a monument to be reminded of the worth of my husband, Mr. Pierce.” She turned around then, as if sorry she had spoken so abruptly. “I mean, I would rather have the man than a piece of stone honoring his courage.”

  “But now future generations can know of the honorable services he rendered,” Pierce said in a soft, deep voice, “and know that Virginia has given her best and noblest blood.”

  Andrea nodded. “A pity the country demanded the noblest for her altars. Would that I could have taken that bullet and left him to Virginia.”

  Pierce put his hands on her arms and looked into her eyes. “Do you not think every man here does not wish that? That every man there that day regrets not following him on his errand of mercy?” His voice cracked. “A thousand lives could not be worth as much!”

  Andrea nodded with a wistful smile planted on her face, and then turned away. “I’ve been wishing to take a walk by the stream before we depart. Would you care to accompany me, Mr. Pierce?”

  “You are welcome to call me Will,” he said, frowning at her attempt to change the subject. “And I would be most honored to escort you.”

  They walked down the hill toward the sound of running water, neither speaking. Andrea turned around once to gaze at the memorial as the light of early sunset cast it in a red fiery blaze of glory. Pierce stopped and looked at her as she beheld the spectacle, and saw despair and grief in her eyes rather than a reflection of the magnificent statue. He felt like he was watching the pain of the passage of time in her expression. He could almost see what she was thinking: what were memories and a slab of stone compared to the mortal man?

  Andrea turned then and sighed as she stared out over the great fields of battle. She looked over at Pierce as if just remembering he was there, and then proceeded down the hill. She had taken only a few steps when she stumbled slightly. Pierce reached out for her arm to steady her.