Shattered Nation

by Jeffrey Brooks

  “Very well, young man. I shall come with you, but only under protest.” The officer nodded quickly, then jerked his head toward the left of the stage. A chorus of boos and angry shouts echoed from the crowd.

  Having made his decision, Vallandigham instantly saw the matter taken completely out of his hands. The Tammany Hall men had continued to argue with the soldiers by the side of the stage as he had conversed with the captain. Vallandigham could not hear what was being said, but matters had obviously become quite heated. One Tammany Hall enforcer, not used to being ordered around, shouted something vulgar into the face of one of the soldiers before violently pushing against his chest. The soldier fell over backwards and one of his comrades stepped forward, knocking the Tammany Hall man to the ground by smashing him over the head with the butt of his musket.

  “No!” Vallandigham shouted, seeing what was about to happen.

  One of the Tammany Hall men, clearly used to the kind of violence that characterized the gang warfare of the Five Points district of the city, pulled out a revolver and calmly shot the soldier who had clubbed his comrade. One of the soldiers instantly raised his musket and shot the Tammany Hall man dead.

  At the sound of gunfire, the crowd promptly panicked. The screams of terrified women filled the air and people begin scattering in every direction. Among the teeming multitude were several dozen Tammany Hall enforcers, placed in the crowd originally to clap and cheer the speaker when they felt the crowd needed encouragement. Seeing the situation on the stage, they ran toward the sound of shooting rather than away from it, determined to come to the rescue of their fellows. Seeing what looked like part of the crowd surging toward them, several of the Union soldiers raised their rifles and fired.

  Vallandigham dashed forward, waving his arms and screaming for the firing to stop. The shots were now coming fast and furious. In answer to the blasts coming from Tammany revolvers in the crowd, the soldiers were reloading and firing again. The bullets whizzed back and forth at random, striking civilians who were desperately trying to escape the chaos. Terrified screams and confused calls filled the air.

  “Stop!” Vallandigham called as he reached the group of Union soldiers and grabbed the barrel of one of the muskets. “Stop shooting!”

  As Vallandigham instinctively tried to interpose himself between the Tammany Hall men in the crowd and the overeager Union soldiers on the stage, a bullet struck him in the forehead, tore through his brain, and killed him instantly.

  *****

  August 13, Evening

  It was the fourth time McFadden had come to the Turnbow home for dinner. His sense of awkwardness had faded with each visit and this evening he actually found himself feeling comfortable as he took his seat at the table. The slave cook Mattie had prepared roast beef and potatoes for the evening, which were very good. Even better, Robert Turnbow had opened what he described as an excellent bottle of wine. McFadden, whose alcoholic experiences were mostly confined to strong and simple whiskey, could not tell a good wine from a bad wine, but he took Mister Turnbow’s word for it.

  As far as McFadden knew, wine was not produced in North America, which meant that Mister Turnbow was serving a bottle saved from before the war or one which had been brought through the blockade at great expense. Either way, it made McFadden feel appreciated that his host would go to so much trouble on his account.

  McFadden had brought with him a letter signed by every member of the 7th Texas Infantry, expressing their gratitude for the interest the Turnbow family had shown in their well-being. The three large shipments of produce and meat that Annie had brought up to the regiment since the Battle of Peachtree Creek had been deeply appreciated. There had even been enough to share a portion with some of the other regiments in Granbury’s Texas Brigade, which had been expressing some jealousy at the good fortune of the 7th.

  Annie had brought the provisions herself on each occasion, escorted by the slave Jupiter. As the men of the regiment had happily unloaded the provisions, Annie and McFadden had strolled together through the brigade encampment, quietly talking and simply enjoying one another’s company. Although he had never openly declared the fact, even to himself, it had become obvious to everyone that McFadden was courting Annie.

  Teresa Turnbow’s attitude toward him had notably shifted. The first evening he had joined the Turnbows for dinner, Annie’s mother had treated him with a disdain that she had not bothered to conceal. Since then, however, he had been promoted to lieutenant and had become a hero of the Confederacy due to his capture of the traitor George Thomas. She had positively fawned over the officer’s sword he had worn to dinner and had treated him more like a beloved son to be embraced than a contemptible provincial to be ignored.

  McFadden saw through her at once and still felt little warmth toward her. People like Annie’s mother were like weather vanes, ready to change their attitudes in an instant if it suited their own purposes. But if Teresa’s remarkable about-face made it easier for him and Annie to grow closer, McFadden was not about to complain.

  “Have you finished the book about Thaddeus Kosciuszko yet?” Mister Turnbow asked, taking another sip of his wine.

  “Not yet,” McFadden answered. “My duties with the regiment leave me precious little time to read. I am slightly over halfway finished. But I am enjoying it very much.”

  “His life reads like a novel, doesn’t it?”

  McFadden nodded. “Yes, I would say so.”

  “Many figures from history often seem to be drawn from the pages of a fictional story. Kosciuszko certainly seems like one of those.”

  “His lifelong struggle in defense of liberty is deeply inspiring,” McFadden said. “I find in his story an example I believe we Southern men should set for ourselves.”

  “A sound idea.”

  “I have also been struck by the similarities between the Polish struggle against Russian domination and the Scottish struggle against English domination.”

  “Hmm,” Mister Turnbow said. “I confess I never considered that.”

  “Is it true that the Yankees will be bringing in negro soldiers to replace their losses at Peachtree Creek?” Teresa Turnbow asked.

  “There are rumors that say so,” McFadden said. “Anything is possible, I suppose.”

  “Barbarism!” she spat. “Sheer barbarism! Giving weapons to negroes! Do the Yankees have no shame at all?”

  McFadden tilted his head slightly in confusion. The 7th Texas had never yet encountered black Union soldiers, but he had heard men from other regiments speak of fighting against them around Charleston and at various points in Tennessee. The men relating these stories had always spoken of the black Union soldiers with nothing but contempt, but McFadden had often detected a trace of fear in their voices. Considering the heavy casualties the Confederates had sustained in these engagements, no one could deny that the negro soldiers could fight as well as the whites.

  To him, it did not much matter if the enemy in the ranks across from his regiment was white or black. What mattered was that they were trying to kill him. If he wanted to stay alive, therefore, he had to try to kill them first. If anything, he felt less enmity for the blacks in Union service than he did for the whites. After all, who could blame a slave for wanting to fight for his freedom? In their place, McFadden knew he would have done the same thing.

  The man who had tortured and killed his brother had not been a black man.

  He tensed, angry that the mental picture of Cheeky Joe had intruded upon his time with Annie and her parents. His mind had remained tormented over the question of whether the man he had seen on the boat in the Chattahoochee had been Cheeky Joe or not. Major Collett was still encouraging him to dismiss the idea and focus on his regimental duties, but this task was almost an impossibility.

  The only thing which could banish Cheeky Joe from McFadden’s mind, even if only temporarily, was Annie.

  “James?” Annie asked.

  “I’m sorry?” he said, startled out of his thoughts and ba
ck into the conversation.

  “Father asked you about your regiment’s deployment.”

  “Oh. I apologize. Our deployment?”

  Robert Turnbow nodded.

  “Our brigade has rotated back and forth with other units from Cleburne’s division, doing picket duty along the river. Generally, General Cleburne positions two of his brigades along the river at any one time, with his third brigade in reserve. Because of the heavy casualties the Texas Brigade sustained in the Battle of Peachtree Creek, we have been granted more time in reserve than the other two brigades, allowing us more time to rest and refit.”

  “When will you go up to the river again?”

  “The day after tomorrow.”

  “Is it dangerous?” Annie asked.

  “Not especially. The river itself prevents any tactical advance by either side, so we and the Yankees opposite us can usually come to an agreement that neither side will open fire. In fact, there is often trading between the two sides, with Southern tobacco being exchanged for Northern coffee.”

  “Really?” Annie asked. “Trading with the Yankees?”

  “I know it sounds absurd, but I can assure you it does happen from time to time.”

  McFadden himself did not approve of any sort of friendly intercourse with the enemy, but neither did he refrain from drinking the coffee the regiment sometimes acquired as a result of the illicit trade. If they did not have access to coffee from the Yankees, they had to drink the bizarre Southern concoction brewed from a combination of ground peanuts and roast corn.

  “I am willing to bet that Prince Ponder gets his supplies of coffee from the Yankees,” Mister Turnbow said. “Exactly how he does it, I could never guess. But he always seems able to supply it, albeit at a high price.”

  Teresa sighed. “Everything is expensive these days. How the poor manage to survive is a mystery to me.”

  “Yes, well, the war is hard on everyone.”

  “Annie tells me that she has greatly enjoyed her visits to your encampment,” Mister Turnbow said. “Isn’t that so, Annie?”

  She smiled slightly and nodded. “James and his men have been very gracious during my visits. When I have remained for dinner, they have regaled me with singing and dancing, as well as stories about life in the army.”

  Teresa’s face clouded slightly. “Robert, do you really think it is appropriate for Annie to be associating with enlisted men of the army?”

  “My dear, why speak so sourly about the brave defenders of the Confederacy?”

  “It is not their bravery I am concerned about. It simply seems socially unsuitable for a girl of Annie’s upbringing to be socializing with enlisted men.”

  “Nonsense. Besides, James is always at her side during her visits. Is that not so, James?”

  “It is so, sir.”

  “Well, that is enough for me,” he said with a smile. “James already saved Annie’s life, after all. Surely he is capable of escorting her around the encampment.”

  Annie smiled. “Not only does James keep me safe, but he is also very pleasant company.”

  “Thank you,” McFadden said, genuine and deep respect in his voice. Receiving even a simple compliment from Annie warmed McFadden’s heart.

  “Would it not be best to simply have Jupiter deliver the produce himself?” Teresa asked. “That way Lieutenant McFadden would not be burdened with the task of escorting Annie about.”

  “It is no burden at all,” McFadden said instantly. He momentarily considered that perhaps he had spoken too eagerly, but dismissed the thought and went on. “Annie’s presence is of great comfort to my men. It reminds them that the people think about them and are concerned for their welfare. I think also that Annie’s presence reminds them of the wives many of them left behind in Texas, whom they pray they will one day see again.”

  Neither Robert nor Teresa responded to the final words. McFadden felt a sudden rush of terror. His face flushed. How could he have been so foolish as to mention the institution of marriage while talking about Annie? He had not known the Turnbow family existed two months before and he had probably seen Annie herself no more than a dozen times.

  He told himself that he was worrying too much. There was no reason to think that either of Annie’s parents saw his words in an untoward way. Besides, he was no longer a mere sergeant but a respected officer. He had to believe that the time he had spent with the Turnbows had persuaded them that he was more than simply a roughhewn man from the Texas frontier.

  Looking across the table, he saw that Robert Turnbow had a curious grin on his face. He could not imagine its cause, but it still comforted McFadden, for Turnbow’s expression was not the look of an offended man.

  Mattie and Jupiter came into the room with dessert, which turned out to be a delicious pecan pie. Conversation shifted toward a discussion about the upcoming election in the North and whether Britain might recognize the Confederacy, subjects on which McFadden felt uncertain. Then, the talk shifted direction in a way McFadden had not expected.

  “What do you think you will do when the war is over, James?” Teresa asked.

  This caught McFadden by surprise and it took him a moment to answer. “I confess I have not given the matter much thought,” he said, feeling somewhat awkward. “The knowledge that I might well not survive the next battle casts a shadow over such thoughts. One does not wish to tempt fate.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “No, it’s all right. It is something I should think on more. I still own my family’s farm back in Texas, though I have no idea what condition it is now in. I suppose I would return there when the war is over and put it back into proper shape. Beyond that, I don’t know.”

  “Have you ever considered entering the ministry, like your father?” Mister Turnbow asked.

  “Not especially.”

  Robert glanced quickly at his wife, then back to McFadden. “You might remain here, you know. Here in Georgia, I mean. You’re an intelligent, well-read man. You may lack a university education, but that should be no obstacle to a man of your obvious talents.”

  “I would have no idea what I would do here in Georgia, sir.”

  “Well, I could always use a good man to help me run the iron foundry. I expect business to be good after the war, as there will be a great need to repair all the railroads that have been torn up by the Yankees. Your experience as a sergeant and now as an officer is surely teaching you how to manage men.”

  McFadden was initially not sure if he had heard Turnbow correctly. “Are you offering me a position at your foundry, sir?”

  “I suppose I am, James. Think on it, will you?”

  “I will, sir,” McFadden said immediately, not sounding nearly as taken aback as he actually was.

  “Very good.” Robert glanced up at the clock. “The sun will be going down soon. You need to get back to your encampment, don’t you, James?”

  “I do, sir, yes.”

  Robert rose from the table, prompting McFadden to so the same. Annie and her mother both stood and gave graceful curtsies, to which McFadden responded by awkwardly bowing his head. He had no idea if this was the proper response or not, but Annie apparently found it amusing as she playfully grinned at him.

  After exchanging farewells with Annie and her mother, McFadden was walked to the front door by Robert. Somewhat to his surprise, Mister Turnbow stepped outside with him. The sun was now setting, but the air was still quite hot.

  “James, I must ask you a question which I am sure you have been expecting.”

  McFadden’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “I am not sure I understand you, sir.”

  “Respectfully, what are your intentions toward my daughter?”

  He waited a moment before replying, suddenly feeling more fear that he had felt even when facing a line of leveled Yankee muskets. The father of a woman with whom one was falling in love was certainly not to be trifled with. If that man happened to be as formidable a figure as Robert Turnbow, the rule was doubly true.
/>
  McFadden finally answered. “I am very fond of your daughter, sir.”

  Turnbow arched his head slightly to the side. “How fond?”

  He struggled to find an appropriate answer. His mind raced, his heart pounded, but he simply could not conjure up the right words.

  It was Turnbow who broke the awkward silence. “Fond enough to ask my permission to court her?”

  He paused only a moment. “Yes, sir.”

  Turnbow smiled, patting McFadden gently on the shoulder. “I am glad of it and you have my permission. I like you very much, James. Whether my daughter likes you as much remains to be seen. But she is fond of you and I invite you to win her heart if you can. You are one of the few genuinely good men I have met since this damn war began.”

  “I thank you with all my heart, sir.”

  *****

  August 15, Afternoon

  He read through the telegram once again.

  General Sherman,

  The flow of events, both military and otherwise, make it exceedingly necessary for us to obtain a significant military victory in the vicinity of Atlanta. That being the case, I have decided to send three additional infantry divisions to reinforce you. Combined with the already dispatched Sixth Corps, this should increase the forces under your command by roughly twenty-five thousand men, being the same number of troops lost during the Battle of Peachtree Creek.

  If a renewed offensive against Atlanta is not advisable, would it not be possible to maintain your position north of the city with a portion of your force while dispatching one of your three constituent armies, perhaps the Army of the Tennessee, into central Alabama with a view to seizing control of the rebel cities of Selma and Montgomery?