American Struggle

by Veda Boyd Jones

  As July bled over into a hot, dry August, Kentucky continued to waver on the issues. There were rumors that if Kentucky went with the Confederate states, Rebel troops that were massing at Camp Boone in Tennessee would quickly march northward and take Cincinnati.

  Daria read Kentucky governor Beriah Magoffin’s statement in the newspaper: “We will furnish no troops for the wicked purpose of subduing our sister Southern states.”

  Kentucky’s refusal to send any troops to either cause infuriated most people in Cincinnati, Daria included. She couldn’t understand why it was taking the people of Kentucky so long to make up their minds.

  A tidbit of good news arrived in late August. Two forts at Hatteras Inlet in North Carolina had been taken and secured by the Union navy. The good news, though, came after more bad news: Union commander Nathaniel Lyon had been killed in a small battle at Wilson’s Creek in Missouri. Other than that, not much was happening—anywhere. After the humiliation at Bull Run, General McClellan decided his troops needed more training.

  The end of August brought letters from both Roy and Edward. With a letter in her hands in Edward’s own handwriting, Jenny seemed to change overnight. She was her old self once again.

  Daria, however, did not feel better after reading Roy’s letter. In it, Roy apologized for having left without telling Daria and Andrew. He had taken the ferry to Covington and joined up. Then he was shipped to Virginia to catch up with the Ohio regiment.

  The other soljers treat me with respect. We don’t do much ‘cept march and drill. And then we drill and march some more. But the soljers are training with old muskets, which they call “Old Brown Bess.” They was made afore you and me was ever borned, in 1828. Ain’t no wonder they run from the Rebs. They shore do need new rifles. Word is we’ll get some afore the next battle.

  The soljers say I’m a fine drummer. Bout the best they ever heard play. Hope you ain’t sore at me for running off like I did. But I aim to show them Rebs a thing or two, God willing. I sure could use a letter. Mail is hankered after almost more than food. But then the food ain’t nothing special. Not like my mama’s cooking is.

  I’ve wrote to Mama and Papa to let them know where I was. I tole Papa he was wrong about God being for wimmen and children. Men gettin redy for battle pray a lot.

  Yore fren, Roy

  Daria and Andrew were in the stable as Daria read the letter out loud. Daria had pulled it out from the other mail picked up in town, and Mama and Papa didn’t even know that it had come. Folding the letter back into the envelope, she sat on the tack box for a time not moving, trying not to think what might happen to Roy when he went into the heat of battle. She sure hoped God knew what He was doing.

  Daria was excited that September was just around the corner. School would start soon, and she loved school. But their birthdays were also coming up on the nineteenth. Daria almost wished she could skip the year and move on to age thirteen—or else stay eleven forever. The age of twelve was nothing. She felt stuck between girlhood and womanhood, like a wagon stuck axle-deep in a mire of mud, unable to move either forward or backward.

  Their sixth-grade teacher was Mrs. Voorhees, whose husband had gone off to war. Many of the men teachers were gone, and that meant several married women had come in to take their places. Mrs.

  Voorhees seemed kind enough, but right away the rowdy students learned they could take advantage of her. Daria loved being back in the classroom, but she hated all the noise and disruption there. And she knew Andrew felt like a caged animal.

  About a week into the new school year, Daria and Andrew arrived home from school one afternoon to find three horses hitched near the carriage house. One was unmistakably Uncle Jon’s favorite mount. The other two were fitted with military saddle and gear.

  The children admired Uncle Jon’s horse and then went toward the house. As they were crossing the yard, the door to Papa’s office opened, and the men came out.

  Daria recognized one of the officers as General Rosecrans, or “Rosey,” as he was affectionately called by his men. The other officer was a stranger. Uncle Jon waved a hello.

  “Afternoon, Daria, Andrew. Wish we could stay and visit, but we’re in a hurry to catch a train.”

  Daria nodded and stared as the men mounted and rode off. What would a general be doing at their house?

  Papa was standing in the doorway of his office. Daria felt her mouth go cotton-dry as she went to her father’s side. She didn’t like the strange look in Papa’s eyes.

  “What is it?” Andrew asked. “What did they want?”

  Something deep in Daria’s gut told her what was coming before Papa ever spoke the chilling words.

  “They need doctors desperately, childen. The general came to offer me an officer’s rank and to ask that I join the Union forces.” Papa stopped a moment and put his hand on Daria’s shoulder. “I said yes.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Papa Goes to War

  Everything inside Daria wanted to scream out in protest. Not her papa. Let everyone in the whole world go to the war, but not her papa. How would they live without Papa’s strong presence there to hold them together?

  “Come on, children,” Papa said softly. “Let’s go tell your mama.” Papa asked Mama to join them in the parlor, and then he closed the doors. Jenny was still in town at the sewing circle. Daria moved closer to her mother as Papa repeated his terrible news. Mama pulled her close beside her on the davenport. As much as Daria wanted to cry, she knew she had to be strong like her mama. Now was not the time for tears.

  Mama looked up at Papa. “I know you must go,” she said. “I’ve known you would go. It was just a matter of time.”

  Daria could hear the strain in her voice, but she was amazed that Mama sounded as calm as she did.

  “They’ve offered me rank as a captain,” Papa told them. “Imagine me, an ordinary doctor, becoming a captain.”

  Summoning a slight smile, Daria said, “You’ll be the smartest-looking officer in the whole Union army.”

  Papa smiled. “Thank you, Daria. I appreciate those words.”

  Daria couldn’t help but wonder what they would do. Even officers—who made more wages than enlisted men—had very small salaries. How would they live without Papa’s income? She tried to shut out visions of standing in line at the soup kitchens with other needy families.

  “When will you be leaving?” Mama asked.

  “A week from today.”

  Daria heard Mama’s breath catch. “So soon?” “Before our birthdays,” Daria added weakly. She glanced at Andrew.

  Papa nodded solemnly. “General Rosecrans told me that since Kentucky has finally joined the Union, troops will be building up in that area. I’ll be needed there.”

  Kentucky. Somehow that didn’t sound so far away to Daria. Not as far away as Virginia, or Washington, DC, or Bull Run, where so many soldiers had died.

  “I was going to head over to the sewing circle,” Daria said. “Should I tell Jenny? Or should I wait and let you and Mama tell her?”

  “You may tell her,” Papa said. “You may go now if you wish, Daria. I know the ladies are waiting for you to join them.”

  Daria rose to go, then ran to Papa’s chair, leaned down, and hugged him as tightly as she could. He gently stroked his youngest daughter’s hair.

  The night before Papa was to take the ferry to Newport Barracks, he gathered his family about him so they could pray and talk together. Papa had hoped Christian would be in the city, but he was back East with another trainload of troops and supplies. They seldom knew Christian’s whereabouts anymore. Would it be that way with Papa, as well?

  Papa instructed Daria to take good care of Bordeaux. “You can ride him,” he said. “In fact, I want you to keep him fit. Let Andrew take care of the tack and help with combing and brushing. Bordeaux is important to him, too. Be sure to help your mama, too. She’ll depend on you.”

  Mama nodded, smiling, and Daria also nodded, not trusting her voice.

  “
Andrew, I expect you to stand by your mama and help her as much as possible. You’ll be the man of the family now.”

  Mama looked at Andrew and smiled again.

  “Work hard to bring your grades up,” Papa went on. “You may be tempted to slough off just because I’m not here, but don’t yield to that temptation.”

  Daria knew Andrew was struggling with his classes more this year than ever before. “Yes, sir.” His voice was barely a whisper.

  “What about your patients?” Jenny asked.

  “The older doctors will have to take over the load,” Papa told her. “Most of them are as capable as the younger ones.”

  Daria didn’t believe that for a moment. Papa’s patients loved him dearly and trusted him completely.

  As Papa spoke words of love and encouragement to each of them, Daria could almost feel Papa’s love pouring over her like ointment.

  Picking up the family Bible, Papa turned to the Twenty-third Psalm and read it aloud. When he came to the verse, “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,” Mama began to weep softly, for the first time since Papa’s news.

  Finishing the psalm, Papa looked up from his reading and removed his eyeglasses. “This world is fleeting and temporary,” he told them. “Our real home is in heaven. Never forget that. I may be called to help preserve the Union, but my higher call is from God.” He looked at each of them. “That is your call, as well. We cannot afford to allow hate to rule our hearts.”

  When he said the last part, he looked right at Daria and Andrew. Does Papa know how much we hate those Rebels who started this crazy war and disrupted our entire life? Daria wondered.

  Papa prayed then, asking for God to watch over him and guide him and also for God to protect his family in his absence. Then he prayed that none of them would allow hate to rule their hearts.

  When he looked up again, his eyes were filled with tears. “We’ll have no need for a lot of words at the landing in the morning. The important things will have been said here tonight.”

  “I love you, Papa,” Daria said as she again ran to Papa’s side. Jenny joined her.

  After a moment, Papa stood, looked at Andrew, and opened his arms. Andrew stepped across the room and clung to Papa. Daria wished they never had to let him go.

  The next morning, sodden gray clouds hung over the city. Jenny commented that God was weeping with them in their sorrow. Daria agreed. She’d never felt such searing pain as she felt now.

  Papa did look smart in his uniform. But no amount of uniform would make Daria’s papa look like a fighting man. Papa was too gentle to fight. He would be there to relieve suffering—that which he was best at doing.

  They’d been able to get word to Christian, and he joined them at the last minute, having come from the Little Miami station. Papa embraced his elder son, just as he had his other children the night before.

  Captain Kevin Fisk managed to give a brave smile to his family as he stepped aboard the ferry steamer. They stood in silence as the whistle blew and the gangplank was pulled up. Foam bubbled up around the paddle wheel as the steamer slowly moved out across the great Ohio River to the Kentucky side.

  Daria and Andrew took turns looking through the field glasses until the ferry landed near the large compound of brick buildings known as the Newport Barracks, which had stood there since territorial days. Papa would be there only an hour or two before catching a train south, deep into Kentucky.

  Papa must have sensed they were still watching, for when he stepped off on the other side, he turned and waved one more time. Officers met him at the landing and escorted him up the hill toward the headquarters building.

  Then the Fisk family said good-bye to Christian, as well, since he had to hurry back to the station. Andrew helped his mother and sisters into the buggy and turned Bordeaux toward home.

  Later, after Andrew had removed the harnesses from Bordeaux and Daria was brushing the animal’s sleek side, the two children put their arms about the horse’s neck, rested their heads against the horse’s warmth, and let their tears flow unchecked. Bordeaux barely twitched a muscle. Somehow, Daria was sure the horse understood exactly what they were feeling. Bordeaux’s patient love comforted her, and for just a moment, she felt as though God was there with them in the stable. Dear God, she prayed silently, please bring Papa home safe. And Edward and Roy, too.

  Mama and Mirza put together a nice evening dinner for Daria’s and Andrew’s birthday. They didn’t really want a party, but Mama insisted that they celebrate their birthday as though nothing had changed. Daria couldn’t help but feel that it seemed all wrong to celebrate without Papa there.

  Mama invited Mary Ellen McClellan and Lucy Hayes, wives of Union generals. Of course, the Burtons were part of the celebration. Mama felt the younger cousins—Donald, Elaine, and Jon Jr.—could liven things up and that the generals’ wives needed the company. She was right on both counts.

  The twins received several nice gifts, which they both appreciated, but then Uncle Jon said he had a special surprise for Daria and Andrew.

  “For us?” asked Daria.

  Dark-haired Elaine, who was barely seven, was bouncing all over the place. “We have a surprise for you, Cousin Daria and Cousin Andrew,” she said. “But you have to come outside.” She was tugging at Daria’s hand.

  Daria looked at Mama, but Mama just smiled. Did she know?

  When everyone had gathered outside, Uncle Jon lifted a beautifully tooled saddle and bridle from his carriage.

  “Your papa purchased this from me before he left,” Uncle Jon said. “He wanted me to present it to the two of you on your birthday.”

  Daria could scarcely believe it. They had an old saddle that had been around as long as she could remember. It was nothing close to the quality of the tack that Uncle Jon owned.

  “Just like Papa,” Daria heard Andrew say, his voice breaking.

  Daria ran her hand over the smooth leather. He was right. It was just like Papa. Knowing that Papa had planned this for them before he left made the ache of missing him even more painful.

  As autumn turned cooler, days began to drag. Daria was feeling worried. Andrew spent more and more time alone. He spent most of his spare time riding Bordeaux. He often rode clear out of town to get away to where it was quiet and peaceful. Daria was hurt that her twin didn’t seem to want to be with her the way they always had before. It was just one more awful change in her life.

  She worried even more when Andrew stopped asking her to join him on trips into town to get the latest news. Rather than walk to the Gazette, now he rode into town to get the news. But there was no news. The war had turned into a nonwar. No one was doing anything.

  Daria tried to keep busy with school, her sewing circle, and the soldiers’ aid society. Mary Ellen McClellan often came to the house in tears, weeping over the wicked things that were written about her husband in the newspapers. Some were calling General McClellan a traitor because he wouldn’t order his troops to fight.

  At school, Daria did well, but Andrew’s marks fell. Daria knew that all he wanted to do was be with Bordeaux and sit in the saddle that Papa had given them. Andrew couldn’t seem to shake the weight of sadness that both twins continually felt. Daria knew he felt guilty about his promise to Papa to work hard on his studies, when he just couldn’t seem to concentrate on his schoolwork.

  “Andrew, I can help you with your homework if you want,” Daria offered one afternoon while they were taking care of Bordeaux.

  Andrew just shook his head.

  One October afternoon when Daria and Andrew arrived home from school, Mama came to meet them. Her face was grim.

  “Is it Papa?” Daria asked, her heart in her throat.

  Mama shook her head as she led the way down the hall. “I want to talk to you about your low marks in school, Andrew.”

  Andrew’s shoulders slumped. “Oh, that.” Daria thought he sounded relieved.

  “You make it sound as though grades an
d studies are not important,” Mama said. Daria knew she didn’t understand how scared both twins had felt when they saw their mother’s tight face.

  How could Daria make their mama understand? Andrew was doing the best he could. She looked sideways at her brother, but he was staring down at his dirty fingernails, and she knew he could think of nothing to say in his own defense.

  “What is it, Andrew?” their mother persisted. “Why are your marks falling lower?”

  Andrew shrugged.

  “Nothing at school really matters,” Daria said, trying to explain her twin’s feelings. “I mean, what use is it to learn about literature and elocution and mathematics when the entire country is at war?” She looked at Mama, wishing she had the power to erase the disappointment from her face. If only she could understand that both twins felt as though school was a waste of time these days.

  Then Andrew lifted his head and spoke in a choked voice. “Do you realize that most all the older boys have either gone off to fight or are working at the foundry?”

  “And what does the war have to do with you and your grades?”

  “Soon I’ll be the only boy in school above fifth grade.”

  “And if you are, what of it? When you are where God wants you to be, that’s all that matters.”

  “How do I know if that’s where God wants me?” he asked.

  Daria wondered how Mama could be so sure about what God wanted. Maybe God would want Andrew to be helping the war effort. The very thought made her feel cold all over.

  “First of all,” Mama said, “God wants you to obey your parents. Your papa and I feel strongly that you must get your education, be there a war or not.”

  Of course, Andrew and Daria both knew that. But somehow, as they got older, Daria was finding it harder and harder to be as obedient as she once had.