Freedom (Gone For Soldiers)

by Jeffry S. Hepple

  “Well then, if you feel that strongly about it, maybe you should intervene.”

  “Fine. What should I say to him?”

  “I can’t tell you that.” At the sound of many horses outside, Robert parted the curtains and looked out the window. “It’s Meade. He’s got his whole staff with him. Half of them are carrying torches. It looks like a lynching party.”

  “Can you stall him for me until Porter gets here?”

  Robert gave him a spiteful look. “I would, if I’d had my coffee.”

  Grant sighed. “I promise to order the morning cooks to report for duty at four instead of five.”

  “Good. If Meade comes to see you after you’ve signed that order I’ll stall him for you.” He opened the door to the hallway. “General Meade is here to see you, General Grant,” he said loudly.

  Grant glared at him and walked out toward the parlor where he’d established his office. “Good morning, General Meade.”

  “The Army of the Potomac will seize the city today,” Meade said, with no preamble. He was alone in the room and had left the door standing wide open behind him.

  Grant looked over Meade’s shoulder at the mounted men bearing torches. “That’s good news, General.”

  “I’m sick and tired of the constant criticism in the newspapers,” Meade said angrily. “Two-Corps and Eighteen-Corps will lead with a strike to Beauregard’s left. I will be in command of Two-Corps. I just wanted to tell you personally before I launched the attack.”

  “Well – good luck,” Grant said.

  Meade saluted, then did a parade about-face and marched out the door to join his staff.

  Robert closed the door. “I told you he’d gone mad.”

  “Didn’t you just tell me that Beauregard withdrew?”

  “Yes. According to Sheridan, Beauregard pulled back to his secondary fortifications after sundown last night.”

  “When did Sheridan tell you that?”

  “Less than an hour ago.”

  “Meade just said that he’s going to attack Beauregard. I wonder if he knows that Beauregard moved.”

  “It’s possible that he doesn’t. Sheridan was still waiting to see Meade when I left to come back here.”

  “If Meade expects Beauregard to be where he was at sundown he’ll be marching a very long way under fire from those batteries on the heights and from Beauregard’s troops in the secondary positions.”

  “Should I try to catch him and warn him?”

  “I’d like to be sure that the information’s right about Beauregard, first. How sure was Sheridan?”

  “He stated it as fact. I didn’t have any reason to question him.”

  “Then let’s go take a quick look for ourselves.”

  “Now? Without coffee?”

  “We have to go to Meade’s headquarters to see Sheridan. We’ll get you some coffee there.”

  ~

  By the time that Grant and Robert found Sheridan, Meade had already launched his attack. His troops moved across the empty first line of defense and stalled when they encountered Beauregard in the secondary fortifications. There, in the open, finding themselves enfiladed with canister and heavy small arms from redoubts on both flanks, they fell back in disorder.

  At noon, Meade tried again, this time leading with Orlando B. Willcox’s division of IX Corps. By then, however, Lee had reinforced Beauregard and had assumed command himself.

  At 6:30, after another very costly failed assault, Grant took Meade aside. “It’s time to dig in, General.”

  “No, sir,” Meade argued. “We’ve come too close to give up now.”

  “We’ve suffered over ten thousand casualties and gained nothing,” Grant replied.

  “Tomorrow,” Meade began. “we shall...”

  “This isn’t a debate, General Meade,” Grant interrupted. “The troops are to be put under cover and allowed some rest as soon as reasonably possible. Burnside will hold the right at Petersburg, Warren’s next on his left, then the Second, Birney, the Sixth and Wright, off to the left and south. The Army of the James will hold Bermuda Hundred and the ground north of the River. Petersburg is now under siege.”

  June 21, 1864

  Baltimore, Maryland

  Quincy Van Buskirk hurried across the crowded railroad platform and captured his Aunt Jane in a hug. “Oh how nice it is to see you.”

  Jane kissed him on the cheek. “It’s been so long. Look at you. You’re a grown man.”

  Quincy kept his left arm around her and offered his right hand to Tom. “I’m surprised to see you here, Uncle Thomas. Should we be worried about the Pinkertons coming for you?”

  Tom took Quincy’s hand in both of his. “I’m no longer in the Confederate army and Robert got all the federal charges against me dropped.”

  “Good,” Quincy replied. “Let’s round up your baggage. I have a coach waiting to take us to Washington.”

  “How’s your mother doing?” Tom asked.

  “She looks horrible,” Quincy said. “But she seems unaffected mentally by the ordeal. That’s what I was worried about the most.”

  “She’s just avoiding thinking about it,” Jane said.

  Quincy shrugged. “She told me everything that happened to her in some detail. Maybe she’s fooling me, but she really seems fine – mentally, that is.”

  “I know something about prisons and Castle Thunder’s one of the worst,” Tom said. “Not even Anna’s tough enough to survive that place without some mental scars.”

  “Marina was tough enough,” Jane chuckled. “Anna’s always been like her.”

  “Baggage?” Quincy asked. “It’s a long trip to Washington from here. We should make a start.”

  ~

  Anna was sitting up in bed. Her face was skeletal and she was nearly bald. “I hate seeing myself in other people’s eyes,” she said as Jane and Tom came in, followed by Quincy.

  Jane was the first to recover and she rushed forward to gently embrace Anna. “We came as fast as we could.”

  “And I’m grateful,” Anna said. She looked over Jane’s shoulder at her brother. “The scar on your cheek adds character, Tom.”

  He chuckled. “I’m not so sure about your hairstyle, Little Sister.”

  “I had lice and other crawling things living in there,” Anna said. “The hairstyle was necessary to evict them.”

  Jane moved aside to let Tom kiss Anna on the cheek. “Why are there so many police in the lobby? Did something happen?”

  “Oh,” Anna said. “Mrs. Lincoln was just here to see me. The police will clear out now that she’s gone.”

  “I should have told you that Mrs. Lincoln visits Mother twice a day,” Quincy said.

  “I hear she’s got a few bats in her belfry,” Tom said.

  “No more than a lot of us,” Anna replied. “She’s very complicated. I’ve only recently begun to understand her.” She looked out into the living room. “Where’s your baggage?”

  “I booked them into a vacant suite across the hall, Mother,” Quincy said.

  “No,” Anna complained. “When you go back to Georgia I’ll be all alone.”

  “I’ll be here for another week,” Quincy said. “Uncle Tom and Aunt Jane can move into Aunt Nancy’s room then.”

  Jane looked quickly at Anna.

  “Don’t worry, Jane,” Anna said. “It’ll always be Nancy’s room.” She patted Jane’s hand. “Why don’t you and Tom go get settled into your rooms?” She looked at Quincy. “Will you see that everything’s satisfactory and then come back?”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  Quincy escorted his aunt and uncle across the hall, checked to be sure that their luggage had been delivered and went back in to Anna’s bedroom. “Are you all right, Mother?”

  “Fine. Tired, as usual.”

  “You seemed a little cool to Jane and Tom.”

  “Did I?” Anna raised her eyebrows. “It wasn’t intentional. Keep in mind that I’ve seen Tom quite recently and Jane and I were never rea
lly close.”

  “My memories of Texas, when we all lived together, are of you and Aunt Jane being quite close.”

  Anna smiled. “Then we must have been very good actresses.”

  Quincy shifted his feet uncomfortably. “I suppose I could find some tactful way of sending them home.”

  “Oh, no. I’m glad to have them here.” She closed her eyes. “There’s something I have to tell you, Quincy. But before I do I want you to swear to me that you won’t act on it until after the war’s over and the family’s settled.”

  Quincy moved closer. “I don’t like the sound of that. You’re going to be fine, Mother. You just need some time to heal and regain your strength.”

  “Maybe. But in case you’re wrong, you need to hear this now.”

  “All right, Mother. What is it?” He bent over her bed.

  “A boy named Jesse James in Quantrill’s gang killed Chrissy. He also killed at least one unarmed man that day in Lawrence. I promised the dead man’s wife that someday, I’d get revenge. I may not live to do that.”

  Quincy stood up. “You needn’t have bothered telling me, Mother. I’ve memorized the names of all Quantrill’s Raiders, and I intend to kill every one of them, after the war.”

  June 25, 1864

  City Point, Virginia

  Grant knocked on the door of Robert Van Buskirk’s sleeping quarters. “It’s me. Can I come in?”

  A moment later, the lock rattled and Robert answered, “Come in, Sam.”

  Grant walked in and closed the door. “You’re late.”

  “Yes. I apologize.”

  “You’re never late,” Grant said. “What’s wrong?”

  Robert handed him a wire, then sat down in his desk chair. “Anna’s dead. She went to sleep and just didn’t wake up.”

  Grant read the telegram. “Oh damn. I’m sorry.”

  “Me too. I should have gone up to Washington. It’s only a short trip. A day or two away from here wouldn’t have mattered at all.”

  Grant sat down on the bed. “What do you want to do now?”

  Robert shook his head. “There’s not much point in going to her funeral.”

  “I’m sure that Quincy, Tom and Jane would like you to be there. As you said, it’s a very short trip and there’s nothing new happening here except that Burnside has some harebrained scheme to tunnel under Lee’s works and blow it up.”

  “What?”

  Grant nodded and chuckled. “Do you know Colonel Henry Pleasants?”

  “I know from the roster that he’s in command of the 48th Pennsylvania Infantry, nothing else.”

  “He’s a mining engineer,” Grant said.

  “So the tunnel’s his idea.”

  “Yes. He’s proposing to dig all the way under the outer defenses to Elliott’s Salient and then blow the whole fort up.”

  “Have you approved it?”

  Grant shrugged. “I talked it over with Meade and we decided that it couldn’t hurt anything and it’d keep the men’s minds occupied. There’s nothing more debilitating to morale than idleness.”

  Robert nodded his head. “I suppose.”

  “So?”

  “So what?”

  “Are you going to go to Anna’s funeral?”

  “Do you think I should?”

  “Yes,” Grant said. “I’ll miss your conversation, but I can suffer the boredom.”

  “If you get too bored while I’m gone you could always launch a frontal attack against Lee’s works like you did at Cold Harbor.”

  “You’re not funny.”

  Robert got up and began gathering his clothing. “Wire me if either you or Cump should need me and I’ll come running.”

  “Cump’s doing fine.” Grant patted his pockets, took out several folded messages and selected one. “We continue to press forward on the principle of an advance against fortified positions,” he read from the wrinkled message form. “The whole country is one vast fort, and Johnston must have at least fifty miles of connected trenches, with abatis and finished batteries. We gain ground daily, fighting all the time.

  “On the 21st, General Stanley gained a position near the south end of Kennesaw, from which the enemy attempted in vain to drive him; and the same day General T. J. Wood’s division took a hill, which the enemy assaulted three times at night without success, leaving more than a hundred dead on the ground.

  “Yesterday the extreme right (Hooker and Schofield) advanced on the Powder Springs road to within three miles of Marietta. The enemy made a strong effort to drive them away, but failed signally, leaving more than two hundred dead on the field. Our lines are now in close contact, and the fighting is incessant, with a good deal of artillery fire. As fast as we gain one position the enemy has another all ready, but I think he will soon have to let go Kennesaw, which is the key to the whole country. The weather is now better, and the roads are drying up fast. Our losses are light, and, notwithstanding the repeated breaks of the road to our rear, supplies are ample.”

  Robert smiled. “That makes me feel better.”

  “Good.” Grant folded the message and put it back in his pocket with the others.

  “I just thought of something. Quincy may want to have Anna buried in the family graveyard.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “Not in itself, but it would mean that I’d have to go all the way up to New Jersey.”

  “That’s less than a day trip on the steamer, now.”

  “Two days round trip.”

  Grant put his hand on Robert’s shoulder. “Go and take all the time you need.”

  June 26, 1864

  Washington, D.C.

  Robert, Tom and Quincy Van Buskirk were seated in the Gentlemen’s Club at the Willard. “You’re the head of the family, Tom,” Robert said. “You decide.”

  “Anna was Quincy’s mother,” Tom replied. “He should decide.”

  Quincy spread his hands in supplication. “It’s a family decision.”

  “Well.” Tom unconsciously traced the scar on his cheek with the index finger of his left hand. “We can’t very well deny the President of the United States so maybe we should compromise. We’ll hold a memorial service here and then the three of us and Jane will take Anna to Van Buskirk Point and bury her in the family graveyard.”

  “What’s going to happen to the graveyard with the Home Place abandoned and Abe’s place turned into a commercial dock?” Quincy asked.

  “We’ll pay a groundskeeper to take care of it,” Robert said.

  Tom nodded. “Anna put a fair amount of Great-Grandmother’s money into a managed trust. It keeps earning more than we spend. There should be enough to take care of the graveyard for the next hundred years.”

  “She didn’t tell me that,” Robert said.

  “Did you know she had a headstone carved for Jack?” Tom asked.

  “No,” Robert replied. “Did you know that, Quincy?”

  “Yes.” Quincy nodded. “You don’t really need to come to New Jersey with us, Uncle Robert.”

  “There’s no reason not to,” Robert said. “Grant’s just sitting in his trenches looking at Lee who’s sitting in his trenches looking at Grant.”

  Quincy shook his head. “I wasn’t talking about General Grant. General Sherman’s going to need you.”

  “Sherman – why?” Robert asked.

  “He’s decided to launch a frontal attack against Kennesaw Mountain.”

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “How do you know?”

  “General Halleck told me this morning,” Quincy replied.

  Robert looked at Tom. “What do you say?”

  Tom shrugged. “You can’t get there in time so you might as well come to New Jersey with us.”

  “You can’t get there in time to stop General Sherman tomorrow,” Quincy agreed, “but you can stop him from getting chewed up in Johnston’s meat-grinder. I think you should go back to Georgia by the fastest means possible.”

  “Grant
says that Jefferson Davis might replace Johnston with Hood,” Robert said. “In a way that would be better for us. Hood won’t sit behind his barricades; he’ll come out and fight.”

  “You should go,” Quincy said.

  Robert looked at his brother again. “Tom?”

  “Anna was Quincy’s mother. If he says you should go, you should go. But I’d like you to stay just for Jane and for me.”

  Map by Hal Jespersen, www.cwmaps.com

  July 8, 1864

  Pace’s Ferry, Georgia

  Sherman and Robert Van Buskirk were riding across the Chattahoochee River on a pontoon boat. “We lost three thousand of our own to maybe a thousand of Johnston’s people,” Sherman was saying, “but my blood was up and I was pushing Thomas to try again. He resisted, but my argument to him was that three thousand casualties were small compared to the battles in the East. Thomas just looked at me like I was mad and all of a sudden, I heard my own words. It was like somebody else had said them. It was then I realized that I was beginning to regard the death and mangling of a couple thousand men as a small affair, a kind of morning dash.”

  “You made the right decision, Cump. Modern weapons have made frontal attacks against fortified positions too costly.” Robert shaded his eyes to look at the far riverbank. “This is the last major barrier between you and Atlanta.”

  “Is it? Johnston’s reportedly retreated to Peachtree Creek. I don’t know what the terrain’s like there.”

  “It’s just a mill creek. You can wade across it in most places.”

  “How do you know that?” Sherman asked in surprise.

  Robert pointed back at the landing. “I asked that old man who’s fishing in the river if he’d ever fished in Peachtree Creek. He said that he had, and he went on to describe it in detail.”

  Sherman chuckled. “You’re always thinking, Professor. Always thinking.”

  “And so is Jeff Davis, Cump. He’s not going to be happy that Johnston retreated again. Within the next few days Hood’s going to be given Johnston’s command.”

  “Good,” Sherman said. “Then we can be on the defensive and let the enemy batter himself to death against our lines. We’ll send Schofield and McPherson around to the east at Atlanta and Thomas across the creek. Do you think Quincy will be back by then?”