The Face of Heaven

by Murray Pura

  Glory, glory, hallelujah!

  Glory, glory, hallelujah!

  Glory, glory, hallelujah!

  Since God is marching on.

  Morganne David stood in a navy-blue dress and bonnet in the cold February light and strummed her Martin guitar. Colonel Williams and a number of officers stood on either side of her. It astonished Nathaniel that she sang in such a clear strong voice, totally unlike her speaking voice, and that she didn’t lose the tune or miss any words or fail to rouse the 19th Indiana to bawling out the song at the top of their lungs. The troops hurled the words to the blue heavens with even more power than they did on the march with songs like “John Brown’s Body” and “Battle Cry of Freedom.” The band, at a nod from Morganne, came in on the last verse and chorus, and the din from the band and the men’s throats and lungs caused the officer’s horses to toss their heads and skitter sideways. The quiet following the singing was like the sudden quiet after a massive explosion or the end of a battle.

  It was now time for Nathaniel to speak. He felt as if he were going into a sharp fight with his platoon, only this time he was on his own and his men weren’t behind him. The Amish boys had promised to pray for him, of course, and so had several others in the company, but when he first walked up from the ranks and faced the regiment his mind and body felt cold and he didn’t know how to begin. Captain Hanson was nearby. As Nathaniel continued to hesitate Hanson hissed: “Tell them who you are.”

  “Good morning, men,” said Nathaniel finally. “It’s a fine Lord’s Day and I am Sergeant Nathaniel King.”

  “Louder!” came Hanson’s hiss a second time.

  Startled, Nathaniel shouted in his battle command voice: “I ENLISTED IN ELKHART COUNTY!”

  The troops, who had been standing at ease, jumped. Then they began to cheer and applaud, a huge roar rolling over the encampment that caused the other regiments of the Iron Brigade to look up from their own Sunday worship services or chores and wonder what had got into the Indiana boys this time.

  “I guess I was raised in Pennsylvania but adopted by Indiana in time to fight for our country!”

  More cheering and hurrahs.

  “I’ve been with you since Lewinsville and Brawner’s Farm and South Mountain! South Mountain is where they gave us and the Wisconsin boys, the Badgers, the name Iron Brigade!”

  The men roared again and many of the Wisconsin troops, listening in on all the commotion, roared with them.

  “At Fredericksburg the Michigan troops won their black hats by their courage and now the Wolverines are part of the brigade too!”

  A shout went up from the 24th Michigan camp.

  “Easy, lad,” whispered Hanson. “It’s a church service. Not the Battle of Antietam.”

  Dozens of soldiers from the Wisconsin and Michigan regiments were converging on the Indiana parade ground. Nathaniel scarcely noticed them. Suddenly the words he wanted now began to come to him quickly and easily.

  “I won’t keep you long, men. You can look forward to this evening, when General Meredith has promised a brigade bonfire where Miss Morganne David will lead us in singing our great old songs and General Hooker has offered us some roast ox.”

  More clapping and cheering.

  “But I have a message I would like to bring to you. Something I believe God has laid out clearly in his Word to inspire us. In the first book of the Bible—Genesis—we’re told that man is made in the image of God. All men. None are excluded. Then in Acts chapter 17 and verses 25 and 26 this same idea is carried forward, where it is written that God giveth to all life, and breath, and all things; and hath made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth. All the human race is one, regardless of the color of our skin, and that is the way God has made it and wants it.”

  Silence descended over the crowd of troops standing on the frozen field.

  Nathaniel heard it and understood it but plunged on. “Some of you are wondering about the Emancipation Proclamation. If you were a slave, would you want to carry on being a slave or be free? Some of you are wondering about slaves enlisting and fighting the ones who enslaved them. If an African soldier was fighting with his regiment and stopped a Rebel attack on your position and saved your life, would that be a good thing or a bad thing?”

  Interspersed among the quiet troops Nathaniel heard murmuring.

  “If I were a slave and had a chance to be free, to live in my own house and raise my own family without the threat of being whipped or chained or sold off like cattle, I would do it, wouldn’t you? If I had a chance to fight for my freedom, if I had an opportunity to bear arms to keep myself from being enslaved again, I would pick up my musket and fight for my life and my family. Wouldn’t you?”

  Again the murmurs, but now Nathaniel felt the silence had changed from one of resistance to one charged with force and emotion, ready to erupt.

  “I’m fighting for a free country—aren’t you? I’m fighting for freedom for everyone in our country—aren’t you? I’m not just bearing arms to keep Indiana and Wisconsin and Michigan at liberty. I’m bearing arms so that the whole country can be at liberty and everyone in South Carolina and Mississippi and Alabama can be at liberty. I’m fighting so that our nation can be one again and free again under God. Under God!”

  Now the men exploded. Black hats were thrown in the air and hands raised and the brigade roared like a burst of summer thunder. Voices shouted Amen and Preach it, son, and at the back of the excited troops Nathaniel saw General Meredith seated on his horse, the only two things not moving among the arms and hats and cries of the troops. Meredith’s eyes were on him dark and strong.

  As the soldiers quieted again—though their quiet was now one of restless energy, of leaves rustling and moving about in the air before a storm—Nathaniel decided to speak the final words that had come to him and finish the message. “All men, yes, and all people, men and women, are made in the image of God. All the men of all the nations of the earth are of one blood. And one man’s blood was shed for all people so that all could be saved and draw close to God.

  “Before the war began, some slave hunters came to our farm, men. They caught two fellows who had been slaves on their plantation, men who only wished to live free and die free. The hunters scourged one to the bone and lynched him. The other they took back to slavery. Even though both men were made in the image of God—and both men were of one blood with all the nations of the earth—and both men had been in Christ’s heart and mind when he died for the sins of the world on the Cross.

  “I don’t know about you but I’m here to fight for the African who is American as well as the German who is American and the Irishman who is American. Let us make the nation God has gifted us with hallowed ground for everyone, North and South, man and woman. Let us be done with chaining a man’s body and soul. Don’t we remember? Have we forgotten? ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.’”

  As the troops shouted and cried out yet again, Morganne gave a quick nod of her head to the bandleader and started in on the last verse of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic”:

  In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,

  With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me:

  As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,

  While God is marching on.

  Glory, glory, hallelujah!

  Glory, glory, hallelujah!

  Glory, glory, hallelujah!

  While God is marching on.

  Before the 19th Indiana and various soldiers from the rest of the brigade had finished hollering the chorus three times, Captain Hanson leaned toward Nathaniel’s ear. “I don’t know if I was just part of an abolitionist rally or a convention to save the Union or a Holy Ghost campfire meeting. But it certainly wasn’t an Episcopalian church service like Robert E. Lee i
s attending in another part of Virginia.” He shook Nathaniel’s hand. “Well done, Sergeant. God bless ye.”

  Colonel Williams came up and Hanson and Nathaniel snapped to attention and saluted. He returned the salute and extended his hand to Nathaniel.

  “As fine a sermon in a time of war as I’ve ever heard, Sergeant, with just the right amount of gusto for the men. I truly wish Father Abraham had been present today.”

  “Thank you, sir,” replied Nathaniel, taking the hand.

  “Now if you’ll step this way, General Meredith’s compliments and he would like a word with you.”

  Nathaniel hesitated. “General Meredith?”

  “He’s just over here, Sergeant.”

  Long Sol Meredith remained in his saddle on his battle horse. Nathaniel came to attention and saluted. Meredith returned the salute and eyed him carefully.

  “Elkhart County?” Meredith asked.

  “Yes, sir. By way of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.”

  “Are you of Amish stock, by any chance, Sergeant?”

  “Yes, General, I am.”

  Meredith smiled and laughed quietly. “What will America make of us? I’m a Quaker and you’re Amish. Neither of us is supposed to fight.”

  “That’s true, sir. But I couldn’t stand by and watch our country turned into a slave nation ruled from Richmond.”

  “No. Neither could I. Though the Rebels would argue they didn’t want to conquer the North. Just be left to themselves in the South.”

  “Clashes over the acquisition of new territory in the West would have been bound to occur regardless, sir.”

  “Yes. And one day the Confederacy might have felt it was necessary to move on Washington and be done with it. That would not be to my liking or yours, Sergeant. No slave nation.”

  “No, sir.”

  Meredith reached down and patted his horse’s neck. “I do not agree with all your sentiments regarding the African race, Sergeant, and I doubt most of the men here do either. But no one can argue with your spirit or your patriotism. Or your Christian faith. I understand you only have one lieutenant in your company?”

  Nathaniel nodded. “Lieutenant Nicolson, sir.”

  “Now you have two. Congratulations. I trust we will see you at the bonfire tonight, Lieutenant?”

  Nathaniel saluted as Long Sol Meredith moved his horse away. “I’ll be there, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  Nicolson came over smiling and slapped him on the back. “Another man for the officers’ mess.”

  “I was pretty comfortable in the noncommissioned officers’ mess.”

  “Grass was growing under your feet. Time to move on.”

  Hanson grunted. “Congratulations, Lieutenant. First time in the United States Army a soldier’s been promoted for giving a sermon.”

  “I do find it a bit bewildering, Captain.”

  “Now I have to make one of my corporals a sergeant. Ham or Nip. Any thoughts on that, Lieutenant King?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Well, give it some thought.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  General Hooker found a number of ailing oxen for his Iron Brigade that night and after Nathaniel had sat down with his platoon and enjoyed the roasted meat he stood off by himself to watch the flames stretch skyward, sparks making stars in the darkness.

  Several things were bothering him. The first was his sermon—what had gotten into him? His own father wouldn’t have recognized the young man preaching a message that sounded like it came from the mouth of a fiery patriot or a Radical Republican. Or the man with the tune the soldiers loved to march to, John Brown, the abolitionist who had led a raid on Harper’s Ferry to get the guns stored in a Federal arsenal.

  Truth be told, he didn’t sound Amish anymore. He didn’t look Amish anymore in his tall black hat and uniform. Next he would be growing a mustache like Captain Hanson and scandalizing his community in Lancaster even more. Amish men never grew mustaches because that is what soldiers did and they were against soldiers.

  But the biggest problem, the matter he prayed about the most, was Lyndel’s health. He had gotten past the point where he feared she might not live. He thanked God for her recovery. Yet she did not know him. What if the amnesia persisted and she never recognized him again? It might be that they had no future together—none—and he didn’t know what to do with that knowledge or even which words to use in his prayers about it.

  A hand was laid gently on his shoulder. It was Morganne David.

  “There seems to be a great deal on your mind, Lieutenant King.”

  “Hello, Miss David. I was just…thinking over the Sunday service. Your music was perfect. My message, I think, was somewhat—overdone.”

  “If it were peacetime, perhaps. But in a time of civil war? No, you said things that needed to be said and you said them in a way that the soldiers can hear. Didn’t I see a number of them coming up tonight and shaking your hand?”

  Nathaniel put his hands in his pockets. “Many of them said I had taken them forward a few more steps. That I had given them something to think about, to chew over thoroughly, as one corporal from Michigan put it. I wonder what Hiram would have thought?”

  She laughed. “Hiram? He would have gone against the grain of your sermon, of course. Let’s see—he would have pointed out that thousands of Africans are serving in the Confederate Army, that both slaves and freemen fought against you at Antietam, and that they want nothing to do with an end to slavery in the South or Mr. Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation.”

  Nathaniel turned to look at her in the waves of light from the huge fire. “You can’t be telling the truth.”

  “I am. Hiram showed me articles from Southern papers as well as recruitment information. Nathan Bedford Forrest has a good many Africans among his troops. One freeman wrote to a newspaper to say that just as his people had fought for Louisiana at the Battle of New Orleans in 1815 they would fight for their home state in whatever other battles came their way.”

  “It makes no sense. Why wouldn’t they want to be free?”

  “Some of the freemen have slaves themselves. And some of the slaves are on good plantations and are taken care of very well—they think they would be worse off and unemployed as freemen in the North. Many are under no illusions about Northern hospitality either. They feel they’re not wanted up here, not only because of their race but because they’ll take jobs from white laborers.”

  Nathaniel looked back at the yellow and red flames. “You’d think they’d want freedom regardless of the difficulties that came with it.”

  “But many people aren’t like that. And it’s not just slaves who think that way. Plenty of other people are afraid to make changes because what they know may not be good, but it’s good enough compared to how risky a new sort of life might be.” She patted him lightly on the back. “Nathaniel, I care for Hiram very much, but he is a discourager. He thinks that’s the only path afforded him if he wishes to be realistic about life. I, however, like to think of myself as both realistic and an encourager. You said the right things this morning and you pointed us in the right direction. You can be sure many more slaves will seek their freedom rather than stay entrapped on their cotton fields. We see droves of them passing through Washington every week. Hiram told me that this summer Africans will be fighting the Rebels and they will be doing so as Union troops within their own African regiments.”

  “Well, that’s something. It will improve the soldiers’ attitudes toward the African race.”

  “No doubt it will. But we’re still talking about many years before North or South accept them as equals.”

  “How many years?”

  “A hundred, Nathaniel. Likely more. Three or four generations. From grandparents to parents to children and then to the children’s children.”

  “I thought you were the encourager.”

  “I am the encourager. Hiram would say two hundred years. Or never.”

  “And I reckoned I had things on my mind before
.” Nathaniel rubbed the back of his neck. “Where is Hiram anyway? I haven’t seen him at Belle Plain for weeks.”

  “His paper sent him west. He’s campaigning with General Grant.”

  “Grant? I heard he’s a drunkard.”

  “That’s not Hiram’s opinion. He thinks Grant is the best fighting general we have, one of the few the South are actually leery of.”

  “Does he? So you said yourself he always goes against the grain of opinion. Often enough he’s right.”

  “Often enough indeed.”

  “Did you…see Lyndel before you left?”

  “I did. I had to pick up some items from my room. She asked after you.”

  Nathaniel stared at Morganne. “Asked after me? She doesn’t even know me anymore.”

  “Of course she knows you. She just knows you—and likes you, by the way—as another person.”

  “Oh, that’s all. So what am I supposed to do? Court her all over again as another person?”

  “No. As yourself. She doesn’t know who you are anyway so you might as well be yourself.” She smiled. “Except that now you are an officer and a gentleman.”

  Nathaniel’s eyes were black and troubled. The firelight, instead of illuminating his eyes, actually moved the shadows back and forth and obscured them. “Do you think she’ll ever recover her memory, Morganne?”

  Morganne’s face went in and out of the light. “The doctors don’t know. I pray for her every day but I don’t know.”

  “Miss David!”

  A cluster of women were calling to her. Nathaniel saw they were the wives of officers who had come down that afternoon. They would stay with their husbands in well-built log cabins until campaigning began again.

  “Miss David! The men are impatient for their campfire sing-along!”

  “I’m coming!” she called back.

  She looked at Nathaniel and squeezed his arm. “Cheer up. From what the nurses tell me, no one gets her so animated as you.”