The Last Confederate (26 page)

“For hundreds of years,” Boone said, “thousands of lambs
died. They were offered as a sacrifice for sin, representative of the perfect Lamb to come. The lambs in themselves could not forgive sin, for the Bible says, ‘It is impossible that the blood of bulls and goats could take away sin.’ Those innocent lambs were a
picture
of what was to come, and one day it all came true.” He opened his Bible and lifted his voice like a trumpet: “The next day John seeth Jesus coming unto him, and saith, ‘Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world.’.”

The words pierced Thad like a sword, and he was aware that many of his fellow soldiers were also touched. He felt Pet’s hand grasp his arm, holding it tightly. As the preacher went on, telling of how the blood of Jesus did what the blood of animals could not, Thad felt as he had at the camp meeting in earlier days when Boone had preached on “Ye must be born again.”

The sermon finally ended, and many soldiers were on their knees, some of them weeping and crying to God. He saw Les Satterfield, Dooley’s rawboned cousin, weeping. At the same moment he noticed that Chaplain Boone had spotted Les. The chaplain came down and put his arm around the boy and began to pray. Thad watched as Les finally lifted his tear-stained face and nodded.

“He’s been saved, Thad!” Pet whispered, and waited for him to speak, but he sat there silently. Then she whispered, “Wouldn’t you like to be saved, too?”

Thad was shaking physically, his legs weak and his hands trembling, but that was nothing to compare with what was going on in his heart. He had always thought of God as someone far off, but he was now totally aware that God was in the meeting—a sudden consciousness that in Thad’s own heart there was a Presence. He could not put it into words, but as he sat there, he suddenly felt terribly unclean. Something in him knew that he needed forgiveness.

But he could not yield.

Despite the desire to give in, to throw himself on his knees
and beg for mercy, he could not force himself to do it. Instead, he tore his arm from Pet’s grasp, wheeled, and shoved his way through the crowd, his face set and his eyes burning.

Chaplain Boone had been watching the two, and now he came to stand beside the girl. “Don’t give up hope,” he encouraged quietly. “That young fellow is running from God—but your prayers will bring him to the cross.”

Pet’s face was wet with tears, and she could not speak; but in the days to follow, she would recall the preacher’s words again and again. Slowly she went back to her family, her heart heavy and filled with dread, for she knew that Thad had rejected the thing he needed most in all the world. All she could do that night and for weeks thereafter was to pray, “Oh, God, keep him safe—until he finds you!”

****

On June 26 Lee’s troops struck the V Corps at Mechanic-sville—the first battle in what became known as The Seven Days’ Battles. The Third Virginia was in the forefront of that battle, and in the following days, Thad and the others in Company A grew so weary they could not distinguish one battle from another. Gaines’ Mill, Savage’s Station, Glendale—they followed one after another, but at some point McClellan’s nerve failed and he began to call for a retreat. The final battle was an elevation called Malvern Hill, and it was in this final struggle that General Robert E. Lee made one of his rare tactical errors—and Thad Novak paid part of the price for it.

It all began when McClellan and his Union Army stopped their retreat long enough to fight the Confederate force, and he could not have picked a better spot. His defensive position was ideal. He had the military advantage of height. Swampy ground below forced Lee’s men to concentrate in a single area for attack. There were siege cannon behind McClellan and river gunboats on the James to back him up. And he had an army that had been beaten back but not defeated.

Captain Wickham found his company flat on their backs, gasping for breath. They had been rushed from another part of the battlefield at a dead run. Wickham paused before he spoke, for he thought this last move was a mistake. He could see what the generals could not see from their position in the rear—a charge up the hill would be suicide for the men. He had argued fiercely with Colonel Barton, but Barton was in the grip of such a mindless fear that he could only follow orders blindly.

It was four o’clock, Wickham saw by a glance at his watch, and the attack was set for five. He forced himself to smile, and walked quickly toward the exhausted troops, saying, “Get your breath, men. We’re going to shove Little Mac all the way back to Washington!”

Beau had been standing to one side, studying the terrain with a jaundiced eye. He came over to say quietly to the captain, “We’ll never get up that hill, Vance.”

“It’s orders, Beau,” Wickham replied. “We’ll have to do it.” He nodded toward the right of the slow rise of hill and said, “If we could swing right instead of charging straight up that hill, I think we could use those trees for a shield—maybe come at them on the flank.”

“You don’t know what’s behind those trees,” Beau said. “I’ll take a look.”

“No, you stay with the men,” Wickham ordered instantly. “But we’ll send a scouting party.” He thought about it, then said, “Send Sergeant Henry, Mellon and Novak. Tell them that all I want to know is what’s on the other side of those trees.”

Beau nodded and hurried to find Will Henry, telling him briefly what the captain wanted. He looked at Henry’s pale face and thought,
Wish I didn’t have to order him out.
Will and he had something in common—both of them had loved Belle Winslow. The lieutenant thought back over the years and realized that Henry had suffered quietly, never hoping for success with Belle, and Beau felt a quick pang of remorse at the way he’d always had a mild contempt for the little fellow.
He impulsively put his hand on the thin shoulder and said with a smile, “Now you be careful, Will. Don’t go getting yourself killed, you hear me?”

Will Henry looked up with surprise, for Beau Beauchamp had never shown any concern or respect for him. “Why, I’ll do that, Lieutenant. You just wait till we get back before you start the ball.”

Will left and called out, “Mellon, you and Novak come with me.”

“What’s up?” Mellon demanded. He had turned out to be a good enough soldier, tough as boot leather, though he was lazy and shiftless in many ways. He had never gotten over his hatred for Thad, and it showed as he glared at him.

“Got to find out what’s over behind those trees,” Henry told him. “Let’s go—we don’t have much time.” They left immediately, and soon were encased in the thick growth of oak and pine that lined the bottom of the slope and meandered up the hill in a desultory fashion. As the hill grew steeper, the men began to pant for breath, once stopping for a breather. “Shouldn’t be too far to the edge of those woods!” Henry gasped. “Be careful now—the Yankees ought to be right where the woods leave off.”

They cautiously pushed their way through the scrubby growth, and found themselves at the edge of a clearing. “We’ll go as far as that thicket,” Henry whispered. “We’ll be able to get a good view of the whole back side of the hill from there.”

They ran at a half crouch across the clearing.
Just a little farther,
thought Thad.
We’re almost—
“Hold up!” a voice split the air. Thad whirled to see a troop of mounted men emerge from the trees to his left.

“Cavalry!” Will Henry shouted. “Run for it!”

Thad turned and sprinted for the woods they had just left, but a shot rang out and he saw Will go down. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mellon make it back to cover, bullets kicking up dust at every step. Thad threw his rifle down and stooped to help the sergeant up, but Novak could see it
was too late. The bullet had struck Will in the throat. When he opened his mouth to speak, he said in a throaty gurgle: “Tell—Belle—always loved—her—!” and then he slumped and his head fell back.

Thad leaped to his feet and made two steps toward cover, but a massive form blocked his way, and a blow struck his head. He fell to the ground, losing consciousness. He came to some time later and looked up to see blue uniforms all around him, and he heard someone say, “He’s coming around.”

Thad felt arms pulling him to his feet, and an officer’s face swam into focus. It was a thin face, and the eyes were the bluest he’d ever seen. “Well, Reb, you’re a lucky man. Usually when I hit a man in the head with my saber, he doesn’t live to tell about it.”

“Guess he caught the flat of it, Captain,” a short lieutenant said. “He’s got a knot big as a goose egg!”

Thad’s head was clearing, and he looked around to see the body of Will Henry over to one side. Twenty or so cavalrymen were waiting on their mounts to his right, and the two officers were staring at him curiously. The captain began peppering him for information. “You men were scouts, I take it. What’s your name and unit?”

Thad had no idea what he was or was not allowed to tell, so he answered, “Thad Novak, Third Virginia Infantry, Company A.”

The lieutenant said, “That’s part of Longstreet’s division, isn’t it, Captain Winslow?”

“I don’t think so, Madison.” He looked at Thad and asked, “You’re from which corps, soldier?”

Thad stared at the officer, for he had caught the name
Winslow.
However, he shook his head, saying, “We been shifted so much, I don’t rightly know, sir.”

Lieutenant Madison demanded, “What units are down there? We know they’re getting ready for a charge.”

Thad shook his head stubbornly. Captain Winslow turned. “Masters, bring up that extra mount.” A corporal rode
forward leading a horse, and Winslow asked, “Can you ride?” At Thad’s nod, the captain barked, “Get mounted, then.”

“We’re taking him with us, Captain?” the lieutenant asked in amazement.

“We can’t spare a man to take him back, we can’t turn him loose, and we’ve got to scout the rebs,” Winslow countered. “Nothing else to do. Besides, I want to ask him a few questions when we get back.”

Thad mounted the horse, and Winslow ordered, “Forward.” Then he began to ask Thad about things other than military. “How is the spirit of your folks? You said your name is Novak. Where’re you from?”

As they walked the horses slowly down a dim trail, the captain’s eyes were constantly searching the terrain. He paused once to set out flankers, but he listened carefully to Thad’s reply.

Thad had one idea—escape, but he knew that such a thing was impossible unless something changed. At his back were twenty cavalrymen with carbines, so he waited for a break. He spoke freely to the captain, for he saw no harm in talking about conditions as long as he did not reveal any information about the army.

He noted that the troop was winding around a set of low hills, and he knew that if they continued, they would soon make contact with Lee’s troops lying ready to make the charge. He hoped they would run into them; maybe in the action he could slip away.

He saw that the captain was about to end their conversation, and he wanted to keep him occupied, so he asked quickly, “Are you any kin to Mr. Davis Winslow and his grandpa?”

As he had known it would, the question brought the captain’s head around sharply, his bright blue eyes fixed on him. “How do you know
them?
” Winslow demanded. He listened intently as Thad explained, as slowly as he could, how that he worked for some people named Winslow, and the two he’d mentioned had come for a visit.

Captain Winslow laughed incredulously and said in a strange tone, “Well, I’ll never doubt coincidence again, Lieutenant. Here we capture a reb and out of the whole rebel army, we get the one who knows my family.”

“Hard to believe, Captain,” Lieutenant Madison agreed. “Are the Winslows this fellow works for your kin, sure enough?”

“Oh, yes. Grandfather digs them up—a real buff on our family tree.” He began to question Thad about his relations on the rebel side, and in doing so he did exactly what Thad hoped—he led the troop around the bend of the woods and right into the Confederate battle line!

“Captain!” Lieutenant Madison yelled, “there they are—and they’ve spotted us!”

“Make for that gap in the trees!” Captain Winslow yelled, and Thad was caught up in the sudden charge. There were troopers to the rear and on each side, but he began to guide his horse to the outside of the mass. Rifle fire crackled and he heard the shrill rebel cry. A trooper to his left fell from his horse, and then another.

Winslow saw at a glance they’d be cut to pieces if they didn’t change direction, so he shouted, “This way—right through the middle, men!” He yanked his revolver from his belt and led the troop right into the center of the rebel line. And as they dashed through, Thad spotted his own company just to his right!

He jerked at the horse’s bit, but the animal was wild with fear and began running away, caught up in the mass of horses that plowed through the thin line of soldiers. The cavalrymen were hit hard, but they left a trail of Confederate dead as the Union cleared the enemy line.

In the flurry of activity, Thad looked to his right—there was Lieutenant Beau Beauchamp staring at him! He tried again to pull his horse to the outside, but he couldn’t budge against the mass of horseflesh around him. To slip to the ground would mean being trampled to death by the troop behind.

In the end, the charge carried the cavalry troop clear of the Confederates, and Winslow ordered sharply, “Take the prisoner to the rear of our lines, Lieutenant. I’ll get our information to headquarters. They’re forming for another charge, and the colonel needs to know.”

He spurred off at a dead run, and the lieutenant commanded, “Private Johnson, take this prisoner to the rear. He’s the only reb we’ve got now, but we’ll have plenty more after they try to take that hill!”

His words were prophetic. Brigade after brigade of riflemen came up that hill into a blanket of shrapnel, grape and canister. Those who survived the Union guns were cut down by musket fire from the 14th New York, which received the brunt of the rebel charge.

A few isolated rebels survived the charge, but when they were brought to where Thad was held under strong guard, only one of them seemed to have any knowledge of the Third Virginia. “I think they got cut up bad,” he said.