When Johnny Came Marching Home (24 page)

I stared at him without speaking until the sneer began to fade. He glanced at the pistol on my hip and the bit of badge that showed under my tan canvas coat.

"You a police officer?" he asked. "Cause if ya are, I ain't breakin' no law talkin' ta that girl. I'm jus' sayin' maybe she'd like a man what's got all his parts."

I took a step toward him and he began backing away. "If you want to keep all those parts you're so proud of, you better start moving," I said.

"All right there, officer. We leavin', jus' settle yerself down."

He grinned at me as they began to move away; then they turned and headed across the street. I noticed that the men they'd been standing with weren't even watching them. They were content with their own games of harassment. I walked back to the buggy, untied Jezebel, and was climbing up to the seat when the man called out again.

"Hey, lil' girl! Ya come on back when yer policeman friend ain't aroun', an' I'll show ya what a man's got all his parts kin do."

I turned the buggy and headed back toward Main Street and the long hill that would take us past the university and to the road home. Rebecca reached out and gently touched my arm. "Don't pay those men any mind, Jubal. They're such sad souls, out begging in the street the way they are."

I gave her a weak smile. "What did you buy?" I asked.

"Oh, so much. Material for several dresses, buttons, bows, everything I need. But I spent much too much money," she added. "I just couldn't help myself. Everything was so beautiful."

Like you, I thought, as I turned Jezebel onto Main Street and started up the hill, still trying to keep the soldier's words out of my mind.

 

* * *

 

It was nearing one o'clock as we approached the Williston–Richmond line. Rebecca turned to me and said simply: "I am starving, Jubal. Please, let's find a place to stop."

I turned the buggy onto a narrow dirt track that I had taken before. My father and I had fished there and I knew the path went about fifty yards, crossed the railroad tracks, and entered a small stand of pines that stood next to the Winooski River.

"This is a lovely spot," Rebecca said as I pulled up next to the river so Jezebel could drink. When she had finished I hitched her to a tree, helped Rebecca down, and spread our blanket on a soft bed of pine needles. I removed my gun belt and jacket and placed them in the buggy.

"I have a jug of cider. If you set it in the river I think it would chill quickly," Rebecca said.

I did as she suggested as she began spreading the contents of her picnic basket out on the blanket. There was a large piece of cheddar, a loaf of bread, some apples, and a jar of rhubarb preserves. She put two plates out along with knives and forks and smiled at me. "It's a good, healthy meal," she said.

"Yes, it is." I looked at the wedge of cheddar and thought back to the time Abel had convinced his father to buy a new brand from a drummer passing through town. The drummer had given him the Roman candle, the firework we had set off on the Fourth of July, nearly burning down the town's bandstand.

"What are you smiling about?" Rebecca asked.

"Do you remember the time we almost burned down the town bandstand?"

"Of course. It was horrible."

"It all started with a wheel of cheddar cheese," I said, telling her how Abel had schemed with the drummer to get the firework.

She laughed softly, but there was also a tear in the corner of her eye. It began to run along her cheek and she reached up and brushed it away.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to make you sad."

She smiled. "You didn't. When I think of Abel I always think what a wonderful man he became and what a shame it is he never had children of his own. He would have been a wonderful father."

"Yes, he would have. I wish you could have seen him with little Alva."

"I would have liked that," she whispered. "It was so perfect, growing up the way we did. You and Abel and Johnny and Josiah. And me as the tagalong little sister." She reached out and cut us each a slice of cheese, then quartered an apple and cut two thick slices of bread. "God, how I wish that war had never come, and we were all alive and together the way we were." She stopped and stared at me. "If you had it to do again, would you still go off to fight?"

It was a question I'd asked myself many times. "No, I wouldn't. And I would have argued like the devil to keep Abel and Johnny from going too."

We ate our lunch, enjoying the warm sun that filtered through the pines and the gentle breeze that came in off the river. When we had finished, Rebecca repacked the picnic basket and I placed it in the buggy. As I turned to retrieve the blanket she came up to me and slipped her arms around my neck.

"Jubal Foster, I am tired of waiting for you. I love you, and I know you love me, and I want you to show me right here, right now." She stared into my eyes, then raised herself on her toes and brought her lips to mine. Then she turned and led me back to the blanket. She sat down and gently pulled me down beside her. "Make love to me, Jubal," she whispered. "I've waited my whole life and I don't want to wait any longer."

I lowered my eyes. "Maybe that fella in town was right," I said, my voice cracking. "Maybe it would be better for you to have a whole man."

She reached up and placed her hands on my cheeks. "Stop it, Jubal. I'm in love with you. I always have been, and it's you I want, not one particular part of you; just you."

 

* * *

 

We lay beside each other, my one arm holding her, both of hers wrapped around my waist. We dozed, satiated with each other, and I wondered what I had done to deserve what she was offering me. She stirred and reached up and kissed my cheek.

"You know you have to marry me now," she whispered. "If you don't my father will come after you with a gun."

I pulled her closer. "He won't have to do that," I whispered back.

 

* * *

 

Chancellorsville, Virginia, 1863

We had spent four months on reconnaissance patrols trying to keep track of Lee's army and determine where Union forces could best attack him again. General Joseph Hooker had been placed in charge of the Army of the Potomac, while General Burnside, following his failure at Fredericksburg, had been banished to the Western Theater where he would not command troops involved in either the defense of Washington or the all-important defeat of Lee's forces.

Fearing an attack on Richmond, Lee had divided his forces, a fact we reported back to General Hooker's subordinates in early February. Convinced our information was inaccurate, we were sent out again and again to reconfirm it. Finally, in late March a captain from the newly established Bureau of Military Intelligence accompanied us and was shocked to discover that Lee had truly scattered his forces throughout Virginia, including 15,000 men under General James Longstreet, who had been sent to Norfolk to guard against a Southern push against Richmond. When brought the news, Hooker realized that he had 133,000 well-rested and fully provisioned troops, while Lee's army now numbered under 61,000 poorly supplied men—men who were often hungry and badly clothed. The army's intelligence bureau, using spies recruited among the Southern populace, along with information gathered from prisoners, deserters, slaves, and fleeing Southern refugees, also learned that Longstreet had been relegated to scouring the countryside seeking provisions from farmers and planters, who themselves were nearly destitute.

Once all that information had been gathered, Hooker decided on a move against Chancellorsville in Spotsylvania County, a gateway that would lead directly to Richmond, the seat of the Confederacy.

As we waited for orders to move on Chancellorsville, we continued our forays south, keeping track of Lee's scattered forces, carefully avoiding any engagements with Rebel troops that might give away our plan to attack.

Coming in one night we were greeted by Jemma and Alva with warm cups of coffee. Josiah had been urging them to leave camp and travel with any of several small detachments headed for Washington. Once there they could wait out the war in safety.

"I see you're still here," Abel said, as he accepted a cup from Jemma. "Josiah's right, ya know. You'd be a lot safer in Washington, and ya could even get paid work in a good household there."

"I wants ta stay wit y'all," Jemma said.

"Josiah said he'd come git ya when the war's over," Abel said. "An' I know he's a man keeps his word."

Jemma looked at me and I nodded agreement. "It would be safer for Alva," I said.

"Alva don' wanna leave Massah Abel. She say he saved her an' she gonna stay wit him."

"See, Abel, it's all yer fault," Johnny said. "These girls'd be sittin' pretty in Washington it weren't fer this mysterious hold ya got on 'em." Johnny waggled his fingers to emphasize Abel's powers over them. His clowning made Abel and several other men laugh.

"We'll be leaving for a battle soon," I said, trying to bring the subject back to their need to leave the war zone. "And it won't be safe for you to follow.

"I goes wit Josiah when de moves da hosp'l."

"But Josiah wants you and Alva to go to Washington," I argued.

Jemma just smiled at me. It was a beautiful smile and it told me that any further argument would be a wasted effort.

 

* * *

 

Our forces moved out on April 27, crossing the Rappahannock River, then the Rapidan River near Germanna and Ely's Fords, bringing our various corps together outside Chancellorsville on April 30.

Heavy fighting began the following day, and as we prepared to begin our assault Abel nudged me and pointed above our heads, where an aerial balloon floated across enemy lines. We had heard of the new balloon corps that had been formed to report on the size and dispersal of Rebel forces. Once viewing those forces through long telescopes while remaining out of firing range, the balloonists would drop messages to waiting couriers, who would ride back to Hooker's command post and relay the information.

We had been told by our officers that Hooker was employing the tactic to provide more accurate information that would allow our troops to initiate flanking attacks, thereby avoiding the direct frontal assaults that had ended in bloodbaths at Antietam and Fredericksburg.

When Lee surprised everyone by dividing his forces, Hooker ordered our corps to push through in an area known as the Wilderness, a large, nearly impenetrable region of scrub pine and thickets so dense it rendered our superior artillery useless. We were to keep the Rebs from establishing a foothold there, so we moved forward to try to push back the smaller Confederate force.

"Damn," Abel shouted across an opening in the dense brush, "I think we're gonna win ourselves a battle here, boys!"

As we charged ahead under light resistance, an officer rode up and ordered us to stop our advance and move to the rear.

I grabbed his stirrup when his horse drew near. "Why the hell are we retreating?" I demanded. "We finally got these Rebs on the run."

The officer yanked his foot and ripped the stirrup from my hand. "You saw what happened to us at Fredericksburg when we engaged in a frontal assault," he snapped. "General Hooker is going to make Lee bring a frontal assault against us and give him a taste of his own tactics. Now do what you've been told, sergeant, and get your men moving."

 

* * *

 

We took up defensive positions around Chancellorsville, an insignificant hamlet that was little more than a large mansion and a few scattered houses at the junction of Orange Turnpike and Orange Plank Road.

Our corps, some 15,000 strong, spent the morning digging defensive positions in preparation for the Rebel attack that General Hooker was trying to promote. To our right, General Oliver Howard commanded 11,000 additional troops guarding against any flanking attack the Rebs might make. Far to our left, the balance of our army, nearly 75,000 men, were prepared to slaughter any major assault by Confederate forces that came out of the dense Wilderness. According to our reports, all we needed now was an all-out attack by Lee's army and victory would be assured.

I had learned over the years of fighting that war involved periods of intense terror, followed by the horror of what we had done, and what had been done to us, followed again by a seemingly endless period of boredom while we waited for the terror to return. Now we were nervously enjoying the boredom.

"Maybe Lee'll be too smart ta attack us," Johnny said. "If he's been kickin' our butts by layin' back an' waitin' fer us, why in hell's name would he change it now?"

"I hope he does attack," Abel responded. "I think I'd like it a lot better staying right cheer behind this trench wall an' takin' potshots at the Rebs as they come at us, instead a runnin' up some hill inta their teeth like we done at Marye's Heights over ta Fredericksburg. That was a livin' hell."

"Either way there's going to be Southern boys trying to kill us," I said. "So make sure your weapons are cleaned and loaded and that you've got enough cartridges for your rifles and sidearms."

"Yes, Mother," Johnny said, and grinned at me. "You sure do like bein' a sergeant, don't ya, Jubal?"

"Just do it," I replied, ignoring the jibe.

Actually, I did like having the rank. Not because I particularly cared about telling people what to do, but because it gave me some small degree of control over what was happening to me and the men I was fighting alongside. According to my superior officers, my only response was to be "yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir," every time they issued an order. But in the heat of an attack it did give me the ability to order my men to take cover when Rebel fire was at its most withering, or to order my squad to end an assault when the slaughter of enemy forces threatened to get out of control. I did not regard myself as a butcher, and I certainly did not accept the idea of becoming cannon fodder at the whim of some general. The rank gave me some ability to control both.

 

* * *

 

There were about five hundred yards between our forces and General Howard's troops, and I decided to go down the line with Abel and see what their exact position was. The men were on edge and I did not want them firing on our own troops if they moved toward us in the dark.