American Struggle

by Veda Boyd Jones

  At recess, as usual, the fifth- and sixth-grade boys played soldiers. They voted for officers and then drilled and marched as though it were the real thing. On several occasions they had invited Andrew in. “You’d make a great officer,” Daria had heard one boy tell him. But Andrew ignored their pleas and continued to carry his ball and glove to school each day. Daria faithfully played catch with him, but she wished the boys would ask her to play. As much as the war scared her, it also made her feel excited. It was just one more thing confusing her. Everything was changing. She worried that before too long, everything she enjoyed most was going to be ruined.

  As they were tossing the ball back and forth, Roy surprised them by asking to join in. “I like playing soldier a lot,” he said, “but I’d like to learn more about this game of baseball.”

  Andrew smiled and removed his leather glove. “I’ll even let you wear the glove.”

  They made a three-cornered catch game, and by the time recess was over, Roy was beginning to get the feel of both the ball and the glove. Daria smiled. Maybe everything wasn’t totally ruined, after all.

  Papa was happy with Daria’s marks at the end of school. He wasn’t so happy about the grades that Andrew received. Daria knew Andrew felt terrible that he’d disappointed Papa.

  “At least you know I didn’t cheat,” Andrew said lamely.

  “I’m certain you’d never cheat,” Papa said, “but I’m also certain you’re not putting forth the effort that’s needed.”

  Daria wished she could explain to Papa that Andrew did try to listen and pay attention. But nothing at school interested him. Nothing except baseball. She knew that the only thing Andrew wanted to do when he grew up was form a team in Cincinnati like the teams he’d read about back East—the Knickerbockers and the New York Nine. How much book learning would a person need for organizing a baseball team?

  “I want you to promise me that when you begin sixth grade, you’ll make a greater effort at excelling in your studies. A man can do little these days without a good education.”

  Andrew and Daria both knew how many years Papa had studied to become a good doctor. Daria saw Andrew looking at the medical books that lined the walls of Papa’s office. “I’ll try harder next year,” he said. “I promise.”

  “Very well, then.” Papa put his eyeglasses back on. “You may go now, both of you. I believe Bordeaux needs you, Andrew. See if your mother needs you, Daria.”

  Daria scowled, but this time she did what her father said.

  Jenny and Edward’s wedding took place in the family parlor on a Saturday afternoon in the middle of June. Daria had a new dress, but the starched ruffles made her itch. The worst part was that she’d have to get up the very next morning and put on a fancy dress again for church.

  Mama and Jenny had spent long hours finishing Jenny’s dress on time. Even Daria was asked to help put on the last few touches. Then there were food preparations for the formal sit-down dinner that evening.

  Edward had been granted a short leave, and Uncle Jon offered to let the couple stay at his cabin just outside town until Edward had to report back again. Then Jenny would come back home. Daria knew that if there were no war, the two would be fixing up their own home.

  While Daria was helping with last-minute details with the dresses, Andrew had been put to work that morning moving furniture in the parlor so that everyone could be seated. Fresh-cut flowers were everywhere, and their sweet aromas floated on the air. Shuble, their new gardener, seemed to have a magic touch in the flower garden.

  By one o’clock, the knocker began sounding at the front entrance. Soon the house was full of happy, chattering folk—friends, neighbors, and relatives. Aunt Eleanor and Uncle Jon were there along with Daria’s three younger cousins. Christian had gotten the day off from the Little Miami Railroad. Three officers from Edward’s regiment were in attendance, looking spiffy in their uniforms.

  A dear friend of Mama’s, Mary Ellen McClellan, whose husband was leader over all the Ohio volunteers, was there. Mama’s younger cousin, Martha Burton, had taken leave of her hospital work with the Sisters of Charity and had agreed to stand up with Jenny.

  Mama had sewn Daria’s dress as well. Made of forest green silk, it swept the floor just like Mama’s and Jenny’s did. Daria had heard Mama and Jenny saying it was time Daria began wearing long dresses. “After all,” Jenny had reminded Mama, “she is almost twelve.” Daria liked the way the green made the red highlights in her hair shine and glow. But she hated how stiff and proper … how downright ladylike the dress made her feel.

  Papa quieted the crowd and asked everyone to be seated. Pastor

  Parcells stood by the piano while Mama played a nice hymn. Edward stood by the pastor and waited. Presently, Jenny came down the open stairway. The crowd murmured their approval at her cream-colored dress covered in lace. Daria had to admit she’d never seen Jenny look more beautiful. She walked forward with Martha at her side. They stopped beside Edward.

  Daria shifted slightly from side to side. She tried to stand so that her ruffles didn’t scratch so much, but she felt nervous as a cat. How she wished she were out in the stable with Bordeaux. But the ceremony was over almost before it began. Daria glanced away as Edward Stephens held Jenny and kissed her in front of everyone, after which Pastor Parcells announced to the crowd, “I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Edward Stephens.” Everyone cheered.

  The wedding was over, but Mama said Daria still couldn’t change out of her new dress. What’s more, she was ordered not to spill anything on the green silk.

  The parlor furniture had been moved out of the way and the rug rolled up, allowing the guests to dance through the afternoon until supper was served at the long table in the dining room. Daria didn’t dance. She sat stiffly at the edge of the room, scratching her legs where her petticoats rubbed against them.

  Everything was changing all at once. Jenny getting married … the war … and her new, grown-up lady’s dress. It was just too much for a body to stand all at once.

  CHAPTER 4

  Edward Leaves

  The day Edward was scheduled to leave Camp Dennison—June 24—the skies were gray and dreary and the weather cold and damp. The camp was situated seventeen miles from Cincinnati on a level of ground midway between the gentle rise of hills on the north and the Ohio River on the south. Nearby, the Little Miami River snaked down through the hills to meet the Ohio. Hugging the shoreline was the Little Miami Railroad line.

  The camp had been laid out by McClellan and Rosecrans before either became generals. Edward had explained to Daria and Andrew that the location was strategically perfect, with plenty of water and access to the rail line.

  Looking at the rows of dismal wooden barracks and the sea of mud that was supposed to be a parade ground, Daria wondered how it could be a perfect anything.

  Since the wedding, Edward had been able to see Jenny only a few times. Then, night before last, word came to Jenny by messenger that Edward’s regiment was scheduled to board the train and leave for Virginia early on the twenty-fourth.

  The Fisk home had been filled with gloom ever since the news arrived. Even Daria and Andrew were quieter than usual. Though Jenny tried to be strong, her eyes were red much of the time. She was quiet and somber.

  Papa assured her no matter who needed his services that morning, he would make sure she was at the camp when the troop train departed. He was true to his word.

  Papa drove the buggy as near to the camp and the tracks as he could. Others from town had ventured out in the rain to see the boys off, but it was a small group. Troop movements in the busy port city of Cincinnati had become an everyday occurrence in the three months since the war began.

  Andrew and Papa wore their rubber rain slickers and stood outside the buggy watching as the uniformed troops lined up in the rain to board the train. Mama, Jenny, and Daria stayed beneath the protective covering of the buggy.

  “Don’t they look smart in their new blue uniforms?” Mama asked.


  “They do look fine,” Papa replied. “Edward was worried that the uniforms wouldn’t arrive before they had to leave.”

  “Did he mind giving up his uniform of the Guthrie Grays?” Daria asked Jenny.

  “The new ones are much more practical for the field.” Daria heard Jenny’s voice break just a bit on the words.

  Christian had been assigned to work on the train. In May, word came that all railroad workers were exempt from serving in the army, since the railroad was so vital to the war effort. At first, the family was relieved that Christian wouldn’t have to fight. Then they’d learned about Rebels sabotaging the tracks to wreck and derail any and all Union trains.

  Daria was convinced no place was safe anymore. A few days earlier a rumor had spread through the city that Rebels planned to blow up the Cincinnati waterworks and set fire to the city. People panicked. The rumors proved untrue, but fortification plans in the city were sped up considerably.

  Daria’s thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a figure standing up on the tender car, waving wildly.

  “It’s Christian!” Andrew whooped. He stepped away from the buggy, threw back his slicker, and waved both arms. Papa waved, too, and Mama waved her handkerchief. Everything inside Daria wanted to bolt down that hill toward the railroad and demand that Christian come back to them. To stay home and stay safe.

  Papa reached beneath his slicker and pulled out a pair of field glasses. Handing them to Jenny in the buggy, he said, “Perhaps you can pick out Edward in the crowd with these.”

  “Oh, Papa,” she breathed. “Thank you.” She stood up in the buggy to scan the long lines of soldiers. Daria stood as well and held her parasol over her sister’s head. “There he is!” Jenny exclaimed. “I see him! The third car. Look at the line beside the third passenger car.”

  Daria looked and there, clearly, she could tell it was Edward. The young officer was looking their way and waving. All of them began to wave and shout. Others in the crowd by that time were doing likewise. As a fresh torrent of rain cut loose, the last men were loaded and the whistle sounded. With clouds of black smoke belching from the smokestack and steam hissing, the wheels of the train began to turn, and it lurched forward. Little by little, the train picked up momentum, its shrill whistle echoing off the hills behind them.

  The family waited in the rain until the last car disappeared around a curve far down the track. Daria heard Jenny sniff, and she knew her sister was trying to choke back tears. Papa reached inside the carriage and patted Jenny gently on the shoulder. “Come on, son,” he said over his shoulder to Andrew. “Let’s get these ladies out of this terrible weather.”

  By July, Cincinnati had given more than five thousand of its young men to the war. The streets reflected it. Each time Daria and Andrew went into town to learn the war news, it seemed another shop had closed because a man had gone off to war. Other businesses folded due to the blockade against shipping to the Rebel states. Companies that formerly sold thousands of dollars worth of goods in the South suddenly had no customers. Many of Papa’s patients were unable to pay their bills.

  And then there were the families left behind by the soldiers. The city council set up a fund to assist those women and children who now had no income.

  In spite of the prevailing sadness, the city pulled out all the stops for a gala celebration of Independence Day. Daria was thankful for it. She and Andrew were up and dressed before dawn. Mama had given them permission to go to Mount Auburn for the early fireworks display. Of course, they stopped by Roy’s house first.

  Roy, too, was up early, excited about the full day of events just ahead. When he answered the door, he said, “Wait just a minute. I have something to show you.”

  He ran back inside and came out carrying a small wooden crate with a rope attached to it.

  “What is it?” Daria asked.

  From behind his back he presented two carved sticks. Putting the rope over his head and propping the crate against his stomach, he said, “A drum! This here’s my drum.”

  “Well, I’ll be.” Andrew reached out a hand to touch the contraption.

  Daria thought it looked to be great fun. “Let’s hear you play.”

  “I’ve been doing a powerful lot of practicing,” Roy told them as he moved down the steps and off the porch. “Watch this.” He began to march about the yard, tapping out a steady rhythm.

  Andrew and Daria clapped their hands. “You’re every bit as good as any drummer I’ve ever heard,” Daria exclaimed.

  He then showed how he could play reveille, taps, and the call to attack. “I know how to play retreat, but I don’t care to play it as much.”

  Daria thought Roy was clever to create his own drum. “May I try?” Andrew asked.

  “Sure.” Roy pulled the rope over his head and handed it over, then showed Andrew the proper way to hold the drumsticks. Try as he might, Andrew just couldn’t quite get the hang of the rhythm.

  Daria wanted to try, but just then she glanced up at the sky and saw that dawn was breaking. “We’d better hurry, or we’re going to miss all the fun,” she told them.

  “Are we taking this with us?” Andrew asked as he handed back the drum.

  Roy shook his head and put the drum and sticks on the porch. “Not now. But when we come back from watching the fireworks on the hill, I want to take it with us to the parade.”

  “A fine idea,” Andrew agreed. “Come on. Last one to Mount Auburn Street’s a rotten egg!”

  The fireworks against the early morning sky made a breathtaking sight. But hearing them burst and seeing the blazing lights as they exploded made Daria think of Edward going off to fight where real shells were bursting, real guns were firing, and real men were dying.

  Later, all the military companies of the city turned out in full regalia for the parade through the downtown streets. There were the Independent National Guards, the Mount Auburn Rifles, the Gymnasium Light Guards, the Pearl Street Rifles, and the Teachers’

  Rifle Company. At the head of the column marched the Cincinnati police force in full uniform. Andrew, Daria, and Roy ran beside the parade through the crowds lining the streets. Roy’s drum echoed the rhythms of the marching bands.

  The parade ended at the public landing. Bands played, speeches were given, and a large Union flag was hoisted up the brand-new, hundred-foot flagpole. When the cannons were set off, cannons from Newport Barracks and from the town of Covington across the river echoed a retort. Sounds reverberated up and down the river valley.

  As Daria listened, she studied two steamboats at the boat works that were being converted into gunboats. Five-inch oak bulwarks walled them in, transforming the lovely open vessels into floating forts. Everywhere Daria looked, she saw reminders of the war.

  When Major Robert Anderson stepped up to the podium to speak, the crowd went wild. The major had been the commander at Fort Sumter before it fell to Rebel hands. He told of the days of holding out against the Rebel forces and how their small group of Unionists had fought hard, though isolated in the fort.

  As cheers went up from the crowd, Daria marveled at the courage and daring of this leader and his men. The major described the howitzers, mortars, and cannons brought in to destroy the fort. More than three thousand projectiles had been shot at them in less than two days.

  The major’s brother, Larz, lived at Third and Pike Streets in Cincinnati, and the major had come to the city to rest before being sent once again into battle. He was given a hero’s welcome. As he closed his speech, the handsome, clear-eyed major offered up a prayer for the war to end quickly.

  When the speeches were over, the crowd moved outside town to Taylor’s Grove for a picnic. In years past, the festivities had been held at the fairgrounds north of town. But that area was now Camp Harrison, where rows of tents housed the recruits. The entire grandstand had been enclosed to create officers’ quarters. Taylor’s Grove was the next best place for a town celebration.

  Later in the day, as people rested beneath
the shade trees from their ample picnic lunches, bands played lively music. Footraces were set up according to age. Andrew proudly won three different heats in his age division, beating out Roy in two of them.

  Roy was impressed by Andrew’s speed. “I’d like to see you make a home run and fly around the bases in a real baseball game,” he said.

  The comment suddenly made Daria wistful in spite of all the fun. “You’ll see my brother do just that, Roy Gartner. You just stay around after this old war’s over, and you’ll sure enough see it!”

  CHAPTER 5

  Bull Run

  The news each day was filled with problems in and around the landing. Officials appointed by the city to guard the docks were on the lookout for illegal goods. It was against the law to send food, arms, or horses to the South, and the city jail was full of persons who tried to do so. Rumors of smugglers and spies spread through the city like wildfire. The entire city was on edge.

  A few days after the Fourth of July, Papa again sent Andrew into town for the news, but since it was daylight, he didn’t seem to mind this time if Daria went along, too. They learned that the steamer Westmoreland had just docked. The ship was full of bullet holes. For a moment Daria was frozen, staring at the dispatch posted in the window.

  It seemed impossible that an ordinary passenger steamboat would be fired upon. Since the landing was only a few blocks from the Gazette office, Daria and Andrew decided to go see for themselves.

  Prior to the war, as many as twenty boats would be docked at one time; but on this day, the landing was almost empty. Daria and Andrew made their way through the crowd of curious onlookers already gathered there. As they pushed to the front, they saw the captain pointing out the holes—large holes—to anyone who would listen.

  “They weren’t just shooting with rifles, either,” he exclaimed. “See them holes? They had some mighty big guns lobbing shells at us.” He shook his head sadly. “Seems as though the days of quiet river runs to New Orleans is about over.”