High Hearts (39 page)

Schecter narrowed his eyes. The man was clearly a peasant, an illiterate, ill-bred peasant. “Tell me, sir. How can your army be in retreat? If it had been up to me, I would have stayed in Williamsburg as long as there was hair on my head!”

Banjo swept off his cap and bowed to the pretentious foreigner. “Colonel, we did.”

Banjo’s bald head, fringed by brown hair, shone in the light. Lutie and Kate laughed until they cried. The baron tried to put a good face on it by laughing, too, but he didn’t much take to being outsmarted by a rube.

The next day when Banjo rejoined his regiment, he happily told Geneva everything. He praised Lutie and said, “She’s a handsome woman, a handsome woman, indeed.”

Incredulous, Geneva replied, “My mother? She’s as old as the hills.”

Standing on the Chimborazo Heights, Lutie surveyed the lands to the east. Below her flickered a carpet of light, the fires of the Confederate and Union armies. As far as she could see, pinpricks of fire, blazes of life, gave evidence to the mass of humanity preparing to tear out one another’s throats. She thought of those campfires as lit by Lucifer’s matches.

Ascension Day, a feast she enjoyed, brought her little solace. Nor did the day’s lesson, 2 Kings 2, which told of Elisha watching with satisfaction as two she-bears destroyed and devoured forty-two children who had made fun of his bald head. Peering into the night’s valley, knowing what must befall it, brought dread. However, Rise, Hazel, Miranda, and Jennifer were her troops. She wasn’t going to lose heart in front of them.

Kate Vickers, standing next to Di-Peachy, stared at the scene below with a shiver of anticipation.

“My husband says that geography is destiny.”

“My husband,” Lutie replied, “says it all comes down to firepower and food.”

Rise, an incurable romantic, murmured, “The hearts of our men count for more than anything.”

“Yes, as long as they continue beating,” Lutie dryly replied. Rise was a good woman but she’d taken to trailing glorious clouds of chiffon recently as well as quoting liberally from the tale of Arthur and Lancelot.

“It’s an unforgettable sight.” Miranda spoke for them all. “When I’m a very old woman, I shall tell my grandchildren and my great-grandchildren what this looked like, how it felt, the tantalizing light wind and the violently scarlet sunset which preceded this unquiet night.”

“My new friend, Lieutenant Banjo Cracker, thinks the Yankees hope to come through like birds of passage, enriching themselves in the process.”

“I’m sure Lieutenant Cracker said no such thing,” Jennifer sniffed.

“His exact words were, ‘They’re so greedy, they’d skin a maggot.’ I just softened it a bit for you,” Lutie replied.

“What’s that?” Hazel heard a bugle.

“Tattoo. It means it’s time to go to bed, and I suppose we ought to retire ourselves.” Kate returned to the two open carriages. Lutie hopped in next to Kate. Di-Peachy and Hazel sat behind them. Lutie rolled the reins between her fingers, two sets on the left hand and two sets on the right. She felt the lead horse nibble on the bit, asking, What do I do now? Are you ready? She glanced over her shoulder. The four ladies in the other carriage sat across from one another, driven by Kate’s liveried servant. Lutie nodded to him, and they started down the hill.

“Do you think a great battle will commence tomorrow?” Hazel called forward.

Kate turned her head. “Who knows? It’s worse not knowing than knowing. If I were out there tonight, I’d pray for it to start tomorrow just to get it over with.”

“I think that’s why there’s been such a frenzy of gaiety in the city. Everyone laughs a little harder, dances a little faster. Every moment is so precious,” Hazel added.

“I’ve been guilty of it,” Kate solemnly replied.

“Guilty? I thank God for it.” Lutie asked the inside left horse to mind her pace. “When our boys have a moment behind the lines, they should be entertained. Let them forget for a night. If it makes us look silly, so be it.”

“Croakers spoil the stew for everyone.” Kate referred to those citizens who found everyone and everything a portent of doom. Fortunately, there weren’t too many croakers left; most of them snatched their passports and fled. “Where has your husband been these last few days?”

“Henley rides between the lines and his office. The commissary is trying to provide for roughly thirty-five thousand men as well as horses. I think the strain will kill Henley before the war.” Lutie frowned.

Hazel piped up. “I miss his presence. I want this battle over with, so I can visit with your husband, Lutie.”

“Good. You visit with him! He needs a break from me.” Lutie smiled, and her curls bobbed in rhythm with the carriage’s motion.

“Just thinking about feeding an army makes me think about Yankees.” Kate’s profile was brought into relief as they passed by a lit shop window. “Do they suffer a pang of conscience when they eat sugar, molasses, or rice? Have they given up smoking? They curse slave labor, yet they’re quite happy to enjoy the fruits of it.”

“I never thought of it that way,” Hazel replied.

“Sometimes the strangest thoughts flit through my mind, quite unconnected. Other times I see pictures, or I remember places that I’ve visited. I often wonder if I’m sane or not.” Kate bounced as the carriage wheel hit a poorly laid cobblestone.

“Everybody does the same,” Lutie reassured her.

The Vickerses’ imposing house came into view on the corner of Eighth and Franklin. Another bump tossed Kate onto Lutie’s shoulder.

Lutie whispered in her ear, “Do we have a chance? Really, what do you think? McClellan has one hundred thousand men, and we have so few.”

As Lutie reined in, Hazel and Di-Peachy leaned forward to hear every word.

Kate replied steadily, “Mars says the only battle you lose is the one you fail to fight.”

Yesterday both armies had withstood not fire but flood. A raging thunderstorm had poured throughout the night. The dawn of the day saw leaden clouds skimming the skies and threatening more rain. The Chickahominy raged. The men
joked that conditions favored ducks, but Johnston, the Confederate commander, asked for an attack.

Mars knew from attending staff meetings that yesterday was to be the day of attack. Nothing would prevent the Confederates today, if for no other reason than pent-up anxiety. Since the ground was impossible for any kind of cavalry maneuver, Mars requested permission to attend Major General Longstreet together with Brigadier General Stuart.

At 8
A.M.
, Longstreet received the order to move. He commanded the center of the Confederate line, right on the Williamsburg Road. He tarried until 2
P.M
. waiting for General Huger’s division to move up and support him in what would be a deadly frontal attack. Huger didn’t appear, so Longstreet went in without him. As usual, he sent out a regiment of infantry skirmishers, followed by regular infantry. Mars, itching for action, beseeched Longstreet to let him ride forward to correctly ascertain the enemy’s fortifications.

This request granted, he moved toward the cannonade. Slipping and sliding, he cursed the ground. He could see infantrymen wading midthigh in the filthy water and mud. The closer he drew to the firing, the more he felt like an inviting target, a solitary mounted man amidst the muck and mire. He got within sight of an abatis, trees felled with their branches sticking out to impede progress.

Mars asked a struggling captain, “Do you know what’s ahead?”

“Our scout went out last night in the torrent. He said that one-third of a mile behind the abatis are rifle pits.”

“From the sound of the artillery, I’d say they’ve brought up a battery in front of that,” offered Mars.

“There’s also supposed to be a five-sided redoubt, and that could be evil in these conditions.”

“Do you believe they are behind that in force, Captain?”

“I do, and I think they have rings of redoubts on this road. It’ll be one obstacle after another.”

The gunfire grew fiercer. Suddenly Mars was pitched onto the ground, his horse shot from under him. The animal screamed and kicked its legs, blood gushing from four separate bullet holes.

Mars shot the suffering animal through the skull, wincing as he did so, then quickly untangled his tack and moved to
the rear, as the artillery fire was becoming more accurate from both Confederate and Union batteries.

He watched the infantry move inexorably forward, as if pulled by powerful invisible strings. Men would holler and then fall onto the flooded ground, many to drown.

A major rode up to him. “Colonel, do you need a horse?”

“I’ve got to get back, to Longstreet.” As Mars spoke, a ball came close. Both men icily refused to notice when it blew earth and water in a geyser not two feet from their heads.

“Come forward, Zimmer!” the major ordered. “Give this man your horse. He needs it more than you do.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mars leapt into Zimmer’s saddle, throwing his own tack on the animal’s withers. He handed the man all the money he had in his pocket. Zimmer hesitated. “Go on, man,” said Mars. “Otherwise you’ll wind up in Company Q, and that’s a fate worse than death.”

As if to mock Mars’s own words, a cannonball whistled and exploded into Zimmer. The poor youth was killed instantly, but the fact that his body had absorbed the force kept Mars and the infantry major alive.

“Good Christ!” Mars shouted, the animal rearing under him.

“Get going, Colonel. The next one might be for you.” The major touched his forefinger to his hat and rode into the withering fire.

Mars returned to Longstreet without further incident, but he paced uncontrollably. A light drizzle, which lasted until just before sunset, irritated him.

By nightfall, the Confederates had driven the Federals from their entrenchment positions two miles down the Williamsburg Road. General D.H. Hill ran out of ammunition and could proceed no further.

When the Federals retreated, they left behind six cannons which they did not spike. These guns were turned upon them with murderous result. However, the Federals had their moment when General Joseph C. Johnston, severely wounded, was carried off the field.

President Jefferson Davis appointed General Robert E. Lee to take over the fallen Johnston’s position as Commander of the Army of Northern Virginia.

Lutie’s bel canto carried over the blast of cannon, seven miles from the city. “Behold at that time I will undo all that afflict thee: and I will save her that halteth, and gather her that was driven out; and I will get them fame and praise in every land where they have been put to shame.

“At that time I will bring you again, even in the time that I gather you: for I will make you a name and a praise among all people of the earth, when I turn back your captivity before your eyes, saith the Lord.”

“Amen.” The ladies from Albemarle County gathered on the sweeping back porch of the Vickerses’ house. Baron Schecter and Maud Windsor were there also.

“I never knew cannon could fire for such an extended period of time.” Hazel Whitmore squeezed a lace handkerchief in her hands.

“They can go for days, red-hot,” Kate replied. “But the firing is desultory. Listen to it.”

“I thought we won yesterday,” Rise said.

“Apparently we have to win today.” Miranda Lawrence wondered how men endured the shelling.

“And tomorrow and the day after that.” Lutie closed her Bible.

“I thought it would be over by now.” Jennifer rose.

“The battle or the war?” Kate asked her.

“Both, I suppose.”

“It’s getting dark. Surely they’ll stop.” Miranda walked the length of the well-built porch.

“I saw night cannonades when we lived in Europe,” Kate informed the others. “The balls have a luminous flight. If it’s
a heavy dose of shot, the entire sky lights up—oddly terrifying and beautiful.”

“How does anyone stand it?” Hazel’s nerves were frayed.

“Our boys are made of grit and sand,” Lutie said.

There was a commotion at the front door. Henley, covered from head to toe with filth, walked onto the porch. “Good evening, ladies.”

“Henley!” Lutie embraced him and became muddy herself.

“Can you ladies be ready to receive wounded late this evening?”

“Of course we can.” Kate spoke for all of them.

“The hospitals can’t take them all, and we were able to evacuate precious few yesterday.” Henley looked tired.

“What are you saying?” Lutie’s voice was steady.

“I’m saying we’ve lost one-third of our army; God knows how many they’ve lost.”

“My God!” Hazel couldn’t quite believe it.

“So far, we’ve counted sixty-one officers dead and two hundred and nine officers wounded. Richmond will be remembered as the slaughterhouse of heroes.”

“Henley, won’t you sit down and take refreshments? You need some sustenance.” Kate soothed him.

Just then Sin-Sin sailed into the room. She saw Henley and shrieked. He turned to her, smiling. “It’s all right, Sin-Sin. I’m dirty, but I’ve got daylight in me.”

“Have you seen my husband?” Maud Windsor’s eyes registered fear.

“Yes. He’s with Surgeon-in-Chief Cullen. They’ll probably get into the city tomorrow morning unless the Yankees put up another fight.”

“Did we win?” Lutie was still reeling from Henley’s assessment of dead and wounded.

“Yes, but at a dear price. I’ve been asked by General Cullen to beseech shop owners along Broad Street to receive wounded in whatever space they have available. Northrupp figured we should keep a large measure of supplies here should the Federals begin a siege. This will make it easier to care for the wounded once we get them here.”

“How bad is it? Out there, I mean.” Hazel’s chin trembled.

“Be glad you are here, Mrs. Whitmore. Even here, you’ll see enough horror.” His fierce eyes fell on the resplendent
Schecter. “I thought, Baron, that your government sent you here to observe our military operations, not our ladies.”

Incensed, Schecter said in clipped tones, “His Imperial Majesty did not instruct me to go on the field of battle.”

“Perhaps he did not, sir, but I should think that honor would have compelled you forward.”