The Yankee Widow

Author's Note:

Unlike my previous efforts, this one is quite long - 22,000+ words. It took me forever to write it (I can just hear the critics saying, "you didn't take long enough.") but I'm letting it go. Once again, it's a historical romance - not erotic at all. Hope you like it.

Note: people spoke differently in 1866 - conversation was much more mannered and formal than today. I've tried to capture a bit of that here. Also, the injuries inflicted upon our fictional character were indeed suffered by Union Brigadier Manning Forge Ferguson at Kennesaw Mountain during the Battle of Atlanta. Finally, the name "Sally" is a nickname or hypocorism (just learned that word) for "Sarah".

OHG

Chapter One

Palm Sunday - April 9, 1865 - Near New Hope Church, Appomattox County, Virginia

I could hear the crackling and booming to our rear as General Gordon's division attacked the Federals three miles to the west. On our front, the Union II Corps was advancing on us, trying to push us back upon Appomattox Station. Our only hope was to hold them back until Gordon broke through to Lynchburg. If he failed, we would be encircled.

We could clearly see their line approaching. With a calmness I did not feel, I alerted my men and called them to action. "Check your rifles. Get your cartridge boxes ready." I paused for a moment, as I scanned the blue line with my field glasses. "Fix bayonets." I called out. Immediately, the relative quiet was broken by the clattering of 70 blades being affixed to barrels. Along the line, the other companies were making the same preparations. Several of my men were fidgeting with the makeshift breastworks in front of them - adjusting brush, moving rocks, piling dirt. A couple of others gnawed off twists of tobacco - to my mind, poor compensation for our lack of coffee. In my almost three years with the 4

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Alabama, I had become accustomed to the myriad and peculiar rituals observed before a skirmish, but I still found them amusing.

The clatter of hooves announced the arrival of instructions from Lt Colonel Scruggs, our regimental commander. An orderly stepped up, handing me a scrap of paper, which I didn't need to read, but did anyway. "Hold position until ordered otherwise." I nodded to the private: "no reply, my regards to the Colonel." I turned and looked back at the oncoming blue line with my glasses, which were really unnecessary, since the Yanks were now only 500 yards or so out. "Hold on, Men...they're about to open the ball...keep your heads down...it's fixing to rain iron." Sure enough, the Union batteries opened up and we started drawing fire from 10 or 12 guns. The Federal line held up while the guns lobbed shot and shell over their heads. The barrage caused us few casualties but did produce a lot of smoke and noise and made some mighty divots in our improvised fortifications. Finally, after fifteen minutes or so, it stopped, and we could hear a cheer come up from the Union line. I heard Ike Hilliard, one of my Limestone County boys, muttering "wish they'd stop lollygagging and get on with it." I gave our position a cursory inspection and strolled down the line, talking to my company: "Hold steady, Boys...let 'em get closer...mark your targets."

We only had half a battery - 3 guns - covering our position. At 250 yards, they started firing canister at the approaching enemy. We began to see gaps in the blue line, but they kept on coming. I pulled my revolver from its holster, checked the caps, switched it to my left hand, then drew my sword with my right. Our guns fired another volley, and then another. When the Yanks got within 150 yards, I ordered my men to open fire. Powder smoke filled the air as our entire line began firing. The boys in blue were now running at us. My boys were quickly reloading for their next volley. About 20 seconds later, they were firing again. Through the smoke, I could see that the Yank line, though thinner, was still coming. It crashed into us. On my right, rifles and bayonets clanked and clashed together. Just ahead of me, a boy squared up and before I heard the shot, I saw the muzzle flash and felt the ball go under my arm and through my coat. I raised my Colt and shot him in the chest. Turning to my right, I saw Ike grappling with two Yanks - one bluecoat was trying to wrest Ike's rifle away from him, while the other was trying to stick him from behind with a bayonet. I shot that one first, then turned and shot the other. Ike, of course, was offended. "What'd you do that fur? I had the sichation under control." I ignored him and went about the business of continuing the fight. Yelling encouragement to my North Alabamians, I emptied my pistol in the general direction of Federals still trying to break our line. The assault, however, was faltering and the Union boys began falling back. I directed the company to cease fire and began to assess our situation. We had taken just a few casualties in this first skirmish: three killed, five wounded.

I was checking on the wounded, when Sergeant Petty approached: "Captain, there's a wounded Yankee officer over here who wants to talk to you. You better hurry Sir. I don't think he's long for this world." I followed Petty down the line to find a tall, bearded man stretched out with his back against an oak tree. His blue coat bore the silver oak leaves of a lieutenant colonel. The coat was open at the front and his white shirt was soaked with blood from a sucking chest wound. I stood at attention and snapped a salute.

"Captain Thomas Browning, I Company, 4

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Alabama Infantry, at your service, Sir."

He struggled to speak - having difficulty breathing - obviously his lung was pierced, and blood foamed from his mouth. I bent down next to him on one knee and leaned closer to hear his words.

"Lieutenant Colonel Charles Calahan, 4

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Ohio Infantry. I'd - I'd like to commend you and your men on the gallant defense of your position here today. I am aware that we have only now met, but..." And here he was racked by a coughing fit that sprayed blood across his legs. The coughing finally, mercifully subsided, and he continued with great difficulty:

"I know this is a great imposition, Captain, but I am at your mercy. I fear I am killed, and I would ask a favor of you. When, ah, when this terrible war is finished would you please convey my sentiments and my personal effects to my dear wife and daughter in Marion, Ohio?"

As he spoke, he raised his left arm to me, and I saw that he held in his hand a small tintype of a young woman and a little girl.

"Colonel Calahan, thank you for your kind words. In turn, I'd like to commend you and your men for your valiant assault. It takes great courage to run into canister fire. It's apparent that you lead from the front. As for your request, I would be honored to carry your message to your family. But first, Sir, let us carry you to our regimental surgeon. He can stanch the bleeding and - "

Shaking his head and raising his hand, he stopped me, "No, Captain - it's too late for that. Even now I am hovering between two worlds...Oh, Dear God, "he jerked and cried out in a paroxysm of agony. "In my coat, you will find my wallet, in my waistcoat - my watch and chain. I am sure my compatriots will see to the return of my horse and saddle. In the wallet, there are twenty dollars in greenbacks to defray travel expenses you may incur fulfilling my request. You will also find a last letter to my wife written in anticipation of this event. I'm sure many of your officers have done the same." He paused, tried to breathe deeply, but coughed violently once again.

"What message would you send your wife, Sir?" I said after directing Sergeant Petty to find pencil and paper.

After a minute or two, he looked at me - his eyes glassy and wet, and spoke haltingly, having to stop every few words to catch his breath, "Captain, tell my wife... "- I looked at Sgt Petty and mimicked writing in my palm - "tell my wife that I died a soldier and a Christian, with my face to the enemy and my faith in God. My only regret is leaving her and our precious girl, but...I leave with the promise of our reunion with our Lord in paradise."

"Colonel, you have my word of honor that I will convey your message truthfully and faithfully. Is there anything else that I can do?"

Quietly and agonizingly, he muttered, "No, Captain, I'm beyond the cares of this world. May this cruel war soon be over. Thank you and godspeed." His eyes glazed over; his lips moved once more, and I thought I heard him whisper "Sally..."

With that, he slowly expelled his last breath, and his head slumped to his chest. Sgt Petty and I removed our hats, as did Ike Hilliard and the other boys standing around us in the shade of the tree. "A brave man and a gallant soldier," I said. "God, I hate this war, Captain," Sgt Petty replied. He handed me his scrap of paper, which I folded and placed in my coat pocket.

I dried the tears forming in my eyes and called out, "Everyone back to your positions - check your weapons and cartridge boxes. The Yanks won't quit - this Grant likes to fight - they'll be back."

I turned to Sgt Petty, "Lucius, send word to graves detail that we have a dead Union officer here. Make it clear that there will be no souvenirs of this man's body."

Saying this, I again knelt by the colonel. I slipped the priceless tintype from his fingers, and, reaching inside his coat, I removed a leather pocketbook. I opened this and saw the aforementioned greenbacks and letter. I also found the colonel's folded commissioning paper. Closing the pocketbook, I examined his waistcoat pocket and removed a gold-plated watch, fob and chain. Placing these items in my various coat pockets, I rose, removed the colonel's greatcoat, and placed his body flat on the ground. I closed his eyelids, placed his arms across his chest, and covered him with his coat.

Chapter Two

April 9-13, 1865 - Appomattox Court House, Virginia

Since waking, I had shot three men, taken a bullet through my coat, and heard the dying words of a brave soldier. Yet, it was still only 8:30 in the morning. With no coffee and no breakfast, I silently cursed my empty but sour stomach and turned to ensure my company was prepared for the next assault. Sometime later - about 10 or 10:30, I heard approaching hoofbeats - this time from the bay mare of LTC Scruggs himself, who dismounted and returned my quick salute. He took my arm and led me a few steps out of earshot.

"I bring momentous news, Captain. I have just left an officers' meeting with General Longstreet - General Gordon's attempt to clear the Lynchburg Road has failed and we are compassed about." He paused as if to emphasize the gravity of his next words: "Tom, General Lee has ridden to meet Grant to discuss terms of surrender. We are now under a truce. So, no attack is imminent but keep your company alert. Do not stand down yet. This situation is volatile. But Old Pete says if Grant's terms are not onerous, General Lee intends to surrender the Army of Northern Virginia. And we all know that if General Lee surrenders, all our other armies will follow suit. So be careful, Tom - it would be a damn shame to make it this far and get killed in the last hour of this war."

"Sir, your news is both devastating and encouraging. I don't know whether to cry or jump with joy. I'll advise my company of developments, but we will remain alert, as you command."

With that, LTC Scruggs mounted and rode off to visit his other company commanders, while I ordered Sgt Petty to gather I Company quickly. When our ragtag group was assembled, I began to give them the lay of the land.

"Men, I feel it my duty to inform you of serious events affecting our current situation - Colonel Scruggs has brought word that General Gordon's effort this morning to seize the Lynchburg Road has failed. We are now surrounded by far superior numbers of Union troops. General Lee has gone to discuss surrender terms with General Grant. We are under a truce. However, as circumstances are liable to change, we will not stand down. You will return to your post and remain vigilant. And a personal word of caution to you, my faithful friends - do not do anything foolish or foolhardy! There is a good chance that this war will soon be over - 'twould be a shame to falter now. Sgt Petty dismiss the company."

The men quietly returned to their positions. When a soldier is not bellyaching, it is because he is too tired or too hungry, or both. I feared that we had reached the limit of our endurance, and I guiltily prayed for the success of General Lee's entreaty.

My prayer was answered: late in the afternoon, word came that the two generals had met in a home at Appomattox Court House and had come to terms on our surrender. We did not yet know the details of those terms, so we were somewhat subdued in our reaction to the news. In my wondering, I think I was like most of my men - would we be paroled, or treated as prisoners of war? Shot or hanged as traitors? These issues crossed my mind, but my greatest consideration was for the current welfare of my company. They were frail, near starvation. Union cavalry had burnt our supply trains at Appomattox Station and with us encircled, foraging was impossible. I couldn't feed them.

We received no further word that day. I put out several pickets on rotating watch, then bedded down to an uneasy sleep.

Bright and early next morning, LTC Scruggs and his orderly again paid me a visit:

"Captain, the Lord is merciful today, and his instrument is General Grant. His terms of surrender are more generous than anything we could have hoped for. Every officer and soldier will be paroled until properly exchanged. Officers will sign pledges for their companies, but each man will be issued a parole pass and may go unmolested. Officers may keep sidearms and swords. And officers on horseback may keep their personal mounts. Most importantly, all will be fed! General Grant has magnanimously agreed to supply us with food and provender. Those supply trains will begin arriving sometime this morning on Court House Road. Tom, tell I Company to stand down - the war is over for them."

"Yessir. This doesn't seem real, Sir. After almost four years...General Lee really surrendered?"

"Yes, he and his staff officers have already signed their paroles."

"What are we to do Colonel? Go back to Alabama? Will we officially be mustered out? With Richmond gone and Lee defeated, is there even a Confederacy anymore?"

"I don't know at this point. Let us take this one step at a time. First, look out for that supply train, help unload those wagons, and get your men fed. I am told that we will surrender our colors and arms day after tomorrow, on Wednesday. Until then, concentrate your efforts on maintaining discipline and keeping order. I don't think you'll have too many deserters today - they are too hungry. Once you tell them provisions are coming, they'll stay to get fed. And perhaps they'll be less inclined to fight with the Yanks. Watch out for the hotheads! You know who those are...keep them away from the bluecoats, if you can."

With that, Colonel Scruggs mounted and rode off to pass the word to the other companies. Once again, Sergeant Petty assembled the North Alabamians, and I gave them the earth-shattering news. Their faces grew somber at word of General Lee's surrender; not a few shed tears. But they were cheered somewhat to find they would be paroled and not imprisoned, and were indeed ecstatic to learn that they would be fed. Near midday, the wagons arrived, as promised, and Sgt Petty directed a team from our company in unloading and distributing the provisions, which even included sides of beef and bacon. Our cooks scurried to get their fires going and meals prepared. Soon, the air would be filled with the glorious odor of frying meat.

Mid-afternoon, LTC Scruggs arrived to present General Lee's last order to us - his farewell address in which he thanked us for our loyalty to him and the cause. Upon hearing this, some of these hardened veterans cried like babies, others quietly sobbed, but there was not a dry eye in the company.

For the first time in weeks, we went to sleep with full bellies. And, for the first time in years, with the notion that we might see our homes again.

Next day, we received additional supply wagons from the Federals, and we filled our pockets and sacks with as many provisions as we could carry. After the formal surrender tomorrow, we would be on our own. Colonel Scruggs' aide arrived to explain our role in the surrender ceremony. I passed his instructions on to the men and added the admonition to make themselves as presentable as possible. Ike Hilliard said something about a silk purse and a sow's ear, but I paid him no mind. We cleaned and polished ourselves and our equipment and for the second night in a row, went to bed without a gnawing stomach.

LTC Scruggs and his staff arrived early next morning. They brought the Union parole letter for I Company, which I duly signed. We formed up, along with the other companies of the 4

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Alabama, on the grounds of the New Hope Church. There we waited by the Court House Road for the rest of Perry's Brigade to arrive. It seemed like hours before we finally fell into line and marched toward Appomattox Court House. We were grouped with the rest of Fields' Division and followed Pickett's Division down the road on the almost three-mile march to the crossroads. These brave men went along quietly, some gripped with heavy emotion - tears streaming down their cheeks.

As we approached the crossroads, we could see Union troops lining both sides of the road. There was no celebration of their victory - no cheering, no catcalls or whistling. We heard later that General Grant, in a gesture of reconciliation and respect had forbidden such displays. We marched on to the appointed place where the men stacked their rifles, and the color bearers surrendered the unit colors. After doing this, we passed through a gauntlet of tables where each man received a printed parole form. We then formed up once again and marched back to our camp at New Hope. By the time we arrived, it was mid-afternoon, and I wanted to speak to my men one last time before they began to drift away. I asked Sergeant Petty to form the company.

"Men, as we marched to lay down our arms today, it struck me that today marks exactly four years since the South took up arms at Fort Sumter. Captain Jones formed this regiment less than one month after that event. Some of you have been with us since that day. Today, we are no longer comrades in arms; we are just comrades....and will always remain so. I thank you for your steadfast devotion to duty through all the horrors and privations you have endured. To lead you in this fight has been the greatest honor of my life."

With tears flowing and voice cracking, I ended my goodbye: "You are now free to go as you like, but I would advise you to exercise great caution. We dare not travel in large groups lest we be considered marauders or guerillas by both sides; and we should not travel alone for obvious reasons of safety. I suggest we travel in groups of no more than five and we set out tomorrow two or three groups at a time at intervals. If possible, we should not all travel the same route. Sergeant Petty and I will study the maps tonight and devise a few different paths home."

Ike Hilliard's brother Phil, as always worried about his stomach, raised a question: "What are we going to eat?"

"We will start out with as much of these gifted provisions as we can carry. After we've exhausted that, we will have to forage or rely on the generosity of people we meet. At least, we will be traveling through sympathetic country."

Sgt Petty and I did indeed survey our maps and identified at least seven different routes to Huntsville, Alabama. I listed these on paper as a series of waypoints to follow and made a copy of each route. With 70 men in I Company, we would have 14 groups of five men, with two groups taking the same route at a one-hour interval. Satisfied with our plan, we retired for the night.