Bring the Boys Home (3 page)

“I’ll bet we do!” Lucy jumped up. “Let me get on a coat, and we’ll go see what we can find.”

They actually filled a sack with an assortment of food. Jeff flung the bag over the horse’s back and mounted behind it. Then he reached down and shook Lucy’s hand. “You’re making some Confederate soldiers mighty happy, Lucy.” He smiled at her. “I thank you for all of them.”

“Come back, Jeff, and don’t get hurt,” she said.

“I wish I were going with you, Jeff.”

“You stay here, Cecil. You take care of Lucy now.”

Cecil looked at Lucy, and it seemed something passed between them. But then the lieutenant looked back at Jeff. “I sure wish I could do more than push papers around.”

As Jeff slowly moved down the driveway on the skinny horse, he thought,
Those two are going to fall in love. I’m not much on romance, but I know it when I see it
.

“Jeff! You come in this house!”

Jeff had been standing on the step when Leah opened the door. He let her grab him by the arm and drag him inside.

“Esther,” she called, “come and see your big brother!”

Three-year-old Esther came trotting in. She squealed with delight and ran for Jeff. He caught her up, tossed her high, and said, “How’s my baby sister?”

“Jeff—Jeff! Come on, I’ll show you my dolls!”

“All right. Let’s see your dolls.”

He sat on the floor as Esther named off her dolls, giving their family histories.

“She talks like a parrot, doesn’t she?” Jeff said to Leah.

She sat on the floor with Jeff and his small sister. “Yes, she does. She’s very bright.”

At that moment Eileen came in. “Jeff! I didn’t know you were here!”

Jeff scrambled to his feet, walked over to his stepmother, and gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Now, that’s from your husband. He’ll do better when he gets here.”

“How is he, Jeff?”

“He’s fine!” This was not exactly true, for nobody in the front lines at Petersburg was fine, but Jeff wanted to encourage her.

“Well, I’m going to fix you the best supper you ever had, and you can take some back to Nelson.”

Jeff was glad that his father had found a companion. Though he had been opposed to their marriage at first, he really liked Eileen.

“I’ll go chop wood for my supper,” he said.

“Take me too,” Esther said.

Finally, after much pleading, Leah bundled her up, and the three went outside. Jeff split the wood, enjoying that job as he always did, and they went in only when Eileen called that supper was ready.

It was indeed a good supper, better than he had had in some time. Eileen had managed to find a little beef and some vegetables, and Jeff wolfed down the food hungrily.

After the meal, he and Leah sat in the parlor playing with Esther. They had a moment alone when Eileen put Esther to bed.

“I just came from over at the Driscoll place,” Jeff said.

Instantly a flush came to Leah’s cheeks. “I still feel guilty about the way I treated Cecil—just trying to make you jealous. And I still have trouble forgiving myself for it.”

Seeing her face, Jeff said quickly, “I know you feel bad about it—but I don’t think you have to.” He grinned broadly.

“I don’t know why you’d say
that
.”

“Because I think you would’ve made Cecil miserable if you had married him.” His grin widened. “You’re enough to drive a man crazy!”

“Well, I like that!”

“I honestly don’t think you need to worry though. It looks to me like Cecil has his eye on Lucy.”

After a moment, Leah nodded. “I hope so. They’d be perfect for each other. They’ve grown up together, and they know all about each other.”

“I’m not sure
that’s
a good idea,” Jeff said, concealing a grin this time. “He’ll know all her faults, and she’ll know all of his.”

“That’s right,” Leah said, and she punched him sharply. “And, therefore, there won’t be any bad surprises.”

“I just hope Cecil doesn’t have to fight. This war’s going to be over soon. He could get himself killed meantime.”

“So could you!”

“Oh, I know, but I’m used to fighting. I’ve learned how to handle it, but Cecil’s kind of fragile.”

The next morning when Jeff left, Leah held up Esther for him to kiss.

The child grabbed his hair and held on tightly. “Don’t go, Jeff!” she wailed.

“Got to go, sweetheart,” Jeff whispered. Unexpectedly, he leaned past her and kissed Leah on the cheek. “Now, that’s all the kisses you get for a while,” he admonished her. He laughed at her indignation, then said, “Take care of everything here, Leah.”

As the women and the little girl watched Jeff ride out on the scrawny horse, Leah said, “I wish he didn’t have to go.”

“I wish none of them had to go,” Eileen said quietly.

T
he Civil War had gone on for almost five years. Hundreds of thousands lay in graves all over the South, and others, crippled by the war, had gone back to their homes. If the war had been a play, the Battle of Petersburg marked what might be called the last act. The Confederates, starving and freezing in the filthy trenches, held grimly on. However, death, disease, and desertion continued.

General Lee informed the authorities in Richmond that the end was near. When he returned to camp, he told his son, “I have been up to see the Congress, and they do not seem to be able to do anything except eat peanuts and chew tobacco while my army is starving.”

One Southern soldier wrote in that freezing January of 1865, “There are a good many of us who believe this shooting match has been carried on long enough. A government that has run out of rations can’t expect to do much more fighting…. Our rations are all the way from a pint to a quart of cornmeal a day, and occasionally a piece of bacon large enough to grease your plate.”

General Grant continued to push against the Confederates. Lee’s line was now stretched more than thirty-seven miles, and he had only 35,000 men able to fight. Lee’s only alternative was to evacuate Petersburg and Richmond and join Gen. Joseph Johnston in the Carolinas.

General Lee commanded Gen. John B. Gordon to attack, and Gordon decided to throw his strength against Fort Stedman, which lay near Grant’s major supply line. Almost half of the Confederate forces were to be thrown into this attack, and at 4:00
A.M
. on March 25, General Gordon gave the order to advance. It was to be the last concerted effort of the Confederates against the Union army.

Jeff looked up with surprise when Tom said, “Well, look who’s here, Jeff.”

Jeff got to his feet at once, for none other than Cecil Taylor was the subject of Tom’s remark. The two stood and saluted Cecil, who, grinning broadly, returned their salutes.

“At ease, men,” Cecil said. He was wearing a spotless gray uniform, which contrasted violently with the dirty, ragged dress of the two before him. “I’m glad to see you, Corporal,” Cecil said. He winked, still grinning broadly. “I told you that I’d get down to where the real fighting is. I just pestered them until they finally would’ve done anything to get rid of me.”

Jeff glanced at Tom and figured that they both had the same thought.
He just doesn’t know what he’s getting into—but he’ll find out!

Jeff said, “Was everything all right back home, sir?”

“You mean Leah and your family? Yes,” Cecil said. “I made a point to go by and check on them. As a matter of fact, I brought letters for all of you.” He rummaged in the letter pouch he wore suspended by a strap and came up with three pieces of folded paper. “No envelopes, and it looks like they had to use wallpaper, but at least they’re letters.”

“They sure are!” Jeff said, grabbing them greedily. “I’ll take this one to Pa right away!”

“I’ll just go along with you. I’ve been assigned to his command,” Cecil said. “You can introduce me formally.”

As the boys started toward headquarters, Jeff automatically hunched down. When a shell came screaming over, he reached up and, without apology, jerked Cecil down to a crouch. The two leaned against the dirt fortification as the exploding shell rained a shower of mud and debris down on their heads.

Cecil looked shocked. He brushed at the dirt that had fallen on his shoulders and tried to smile. “Well, that one missed us.”

“Yes, sir, it did. Come along,” Jeff said, “and keep your head down, sir.”

Jeff led Cecil to his father’s command post, where Colonel Majors’s eyes opened wide when Jeff announced his companion’s new assignment. “Well, we need all the help we can get. We lost the lieutenant of C Company yesterday. You can fill in for him, Lieutenant.”

“You think we’ll get to see some action?” Cecil asked eagerly.

Jeff grinned slightly, but the colonel kept a straight face. “I think there’s a very good possibility of that. The main thing, Lieutenant, is to survive.”

“Yes, sir, but do you think there’ll be a charge against the Yankees?”

Colonel Nelson looked over to where the Union troops were firmly entrenched. The men over there had fresh uniforms, good food, plenty of guns and cannon, and there were plenty of them. “I hope not,” he said. “We’ll do well just to hang on here.”

Jeff noted the disappointment on young Taylor’s face.

His father said in kindly fashion, “I just want to see all my men get home alive, so take care of yourself.”

Jeff went back to his post, where he found Tom waiting for him. “Did you give the letter to Pa?”

“I forgot all about it!” Jeff said, snapping his fingers with annoyance. “Well, I’ll take it back after while. What do you think about Cecil?”

“I think you’d better stick close to him,” Tom said. He was tired and dirty and needed a shave. Weariness had rimmed his eyes with dark circles, as it had most of the men. He slumped down on the ammunition box at his feet. “He’s just too eager. He could get himself killed—and he could get some of the other men killed. You watch him close, Jeff.”

The young lieutenant with the fresh uniform stuck out like a sore thumb. He was eager for a fight, and the men simply stared at him when he tried to give them a pep talk.

Charlie Bowers and Curley Henson called Jeff off to one side. The burly Henson wore a sad look. “Jeff, that new lieutenant—he’s a friend of yours, ain’t he?”

“Well, yes, he is. He’s a nice fella too.”

“He may be a nice fella,” Henson growled, “but he’s not going to get me killed! Not if I can help it!”

Young Charlie shook his head in disbelief. “He was tryin’ to get the colonel to let us charge the Yankees! Can you believe that? Why, we wouldn’t get ten feet before they blew us all to pieces!”

Jeff sighed. “You’ll just have to remember it’s all new to Cecil. He’ll learn quick enough.”

“If he doesn’t get killed first,” Henson groused.

The following afternoon, when Colonel Majors called his officers together for an announcement, Jeff managed to keep within hearing distance. He heard his father say, “Gentlemen, there’s going to be an offensive.”

“You mean we’re going to strike the enemy?” Cecil cried. “Wonderful!”

The other officers, discouraged and weary, stared at the newest officer in the Stonewall Brigade. One of them, standing near Jeff, muttered under his breath, “What are we going to attack them with? Broomsticks?”

If the colonel heard this remark, he ignored it. “General Gordon will lead the attack. We’re going to advance, clean the pickets out, and when the obstructions are cleared, we’re going to sweep into the fort.”

Jeff hurried back to where Tom leaned against the remains of a tree that had mostly been blasted to splinters by Union fire. “Tom, we’re going to attack! We’re going to attack Fort Stedman!”

Tom straightened up and looked about him. “Then we’d better get the men ready. Make sure they’ve got enough ammunition. We’re about out of powder too.”

Jeff stared out over the trenches. “What good will it do to attack, Tom? Even if we took the fort, they’d just take it back. There’s so many of them …”

Tom didn’t try to answer. He limped away, and Jeff rejoined the squad, where he encountered little enthusiasm.

“I don’t see how attacking’s going to do any good,” Henson complained when he heard the plan.

Sgt. Henry Mapes, who had survived the war miraculously all the way from Bull Run, grunted.
“It’s not your business to make them decisions, Henson. Just be sure you got plenty of powder.”

Jed Hawkins, a small, lean man with black hair, had also been in the army since the beginning. Looking about him, he said, “Every time we attack, or the Yankees attack us, I always think that some of you boys might not be here afterward.”

“What about you, Jed?” Jeff asked. “Ever think that
you
might not make it?”

But Jed only laughed. “I got a charmed life. No Yankee slug’s ever been made that can get me.”

The Southern attack began well enough. The Federal pickets were silenced, the obstructions cleared—but then things began to go wrong. The three other forts that the men were supposed to capture could not be found, and the Confederates’ search for them gave the Federals time to recover.

Jeff and his squad found themselves meeting the first wave of the Yankee counterattack. A musket ball cut a twig off a tree by his head, making a peculiar whining sound.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Lieutenant Holey cried. “Retreat! Back to the trenches!”

Jeff was willing enough to go. But as he turned to obey, he saw down the line that Cecil was not retreating. He was going straight forward, despite the commands of his officers to retreat.

“You fool!” Jeff shouted. He expected that he would have no influence on a lieutenant, but he had to try. And then, as he watched, Cecil staggered backward and clutched at his arm.

“Cecil!” Jeff cried, forgetting to use the lieutenant’s title. He ran across the field, dimly aware
that the bluecoats were advancing. Kneeling, he said, “Are you all right, Cecil?”

Cecil’s eyes were glazed with pain. “Jeff—I been shot!”

“Get up, you two!” somebody shouted. “We got to get out of here! Here, let us give you a hand.”

Jeff looked up to see other members of his squad. Together, they practically carried Cecil off the field. Some stayed behind to fire final defiant shots at the blue-clad soldiers moving toward them.