When Johnny Came Marching Home

by William Heffernan

  "Dang," he said. "Thought I'd be able to finish off this whole pie afore ya got home. I guess ya better sit down an' have yerself a piece."

  I thanked Rebecca for the pie, then went to the water pump and washed up before returning to sit between my father and her. She had already cut me a large slice of pie and, hungry as I was, I went straight to it.

  "It's delicious," I said.

  "Thank you." She lowered her eyes demurely. "We got two big barrels of apples in today, so I cooked up two pies before they were all gone. My father already ate the other one at dinner, and he was eyeing this one as well. Doc Pierce says he's not supposed to eat the way he does, says he's too heavy."

  "So you brung it to us. God save Doc Pierce," my father said with a laugh.

  "No, I was going to bring it to you anyway." Rebecca looked up at me and then turned her eyes away. "Well, I should get back to the store."

  I pushed myself away from the table. "Let me give my horse some oats and I'll walk you on back," I said.

  Out in the barn Rebecca stood beside me as I gave Jezebel a bucket of oats and fresh water. When I turned back to Rebecca, she slipped her arms around my neck and brought her lips to mine. "I'm sorry to be so forward, Jubal, but you know I was always a willful girl. I loved you before you went off to that awful war, and I still love you now, and I'm tired of waiting for you to tell me you love me."

  I began to stammer a reply, but she wouldn't let me.

  "And I don't want to hear anything about your arm and that it makes some difference between us." Her eyes were glittering, and in the dim light of the barn I couldn't tell if she was about to cry or if she was angry.

  "I . . . I—"

  Again, she cut me off. "I didn't grow up loving your arm, Jubal. I grew up loving you, and you grew up loving me too. I know you did."

  * * *

  My father was still seated at the table when I got back. "I couldn't come up with much on that Suggs fella," he said. "Railroad clerk says a fella fits his description asked directions ta Jerusalem's Landing, but he couldn't swear fer sure it was him. I checked some of the roomin' houses but they never seen him, so I don't think he's stayin' up in Richmond."

  "I found him up on Lucie's woodlot," I told him. "Lucie took him on to take the place of a man who broke a leg."

  "Ya seen him?"

  "I tried to today, but he dodged me by slipping off into the woods."

  "Ya think he took off fer good?"

  "Can't be sure, but I don't think so. Anyway, I plan to be back there at sun-up just to make sure he doesn't. If he did I'll start running him down."

  "I'll go with ya," my father said. "We have ta start chasin' him it'll be best there's two of us." He raised his chin toward the pie. "Cut yerself another slice," he said, grinning across the table at me. "Ya know, you'd be a pretty big fool not ta marry that girl. Iffen she'll have ya."

  * * *

  Jerusalem's Landing, Vermont, 1861

  Johnny waved the newspaper about his head as he entered the Johnsons' store. "We got ourselves a war!" he shouted.

  I was at the rear of the store with Abel, helping him stock some shelves for his father. I was home from school for the Easter observance and everywhere there was only one topic of conversation—the election of Mr. Lincoln as our new president, followed by the immediate secession of seven Southern states, making war seem inevitable.

  Johnny brought the newspaper back to us and we were quickly joined by Abel's father and several other men in the store. "Those damn Rebels fired on Fort Sumter two weeks ago," Johnny said, holding the paper out for us to see.

  "Where's Fort Sumter?" Abel asked.

  "Says here it's in South Carolina, on the coast in Charleston harbor," Johnny said.

  "Well, what's that mean ta us here in Vermont?" Abel asked.

  "It's a challenge ta the Union," Johnny said. "All them fools seceded even afore Mr. Lincoln took office, now they's attakin' our forts, tryin' ta drive us outta what they claim is their country, the Confederate States of America. Oh, it's war fer sure, jus' like the newspaper says."

  "Ya mean we have ta go down there an' fight?" Abel asked. He looked bewildered by the prospect.

  "Could be," I said. "We'll have to wait and see what Mr. Lincoln can work out. But it sure doesn't look good."

  Abel turned to me. "Are ya gonna go an' fight, Jubal?"

  "I sure don't want to. But I don't know if I'll have a choice, if any of us will."

  "You have a choice." It was Doc Pierce, who had come up to join us as we were talking. "You stay in school, Jubal Foster. Don't you let yourself become cannon fodder for a bunch of goddamn politicians." Doc's face had become beet-red as he spoke. Now he turned to Abel and Johnny. "You boys stay put too. This town don't need to lose its future to this madness."

  * * *

  Later, we went over to Johnny's barn to talk it over. We were all a bit grimmer now, after listening to Doc.

  "Says in the paper that the army's gonna be sendin' out officers ta sign people up, that they'll even be comin' ta small towns like ours." There was still a bit of excitement in Johnny's voice. "Course we could go on up ta Richmond ta hear what they have ta say."

  "I ain't in no hurry," Abel said. "I kin wait till they git here."

  "You ain't anxious ta go off an' fight?" Johnny asked.

  "What fer?" Abel countered. "So I kin go off an' kill some boy no older'n me over stuff I don' even understand?"

  "Yer country's been attacked," Johnny said. "Don't that mean nothin' to ya?"

  "I don' know what it means, 'cept that people I don' even know are gonna want me ta go off an' kill other people I don' even know." He shrugged at me. "Whaddaya think, Jubal?"

  "I think what you're saying makes a lot of sense, Abel. But I also think we may not have a choice. Our country would end up pretty weak if it was split in two, and England would love to step in and take it back, one piece at a time. They already tried that about fifty years ago."

  "So yer fer war," Johnny said, much more emphatically than I felt.

  "No . . . I don't know what I am," I said.

  "Well, ya better make up yer mind," Johnny responded. "Things are gonna start movin' awful fast."

  "I guess we all better make up our minds," Abel said. "I jus' wish these damn politicians would leave us be."

  * * *

  Manassas, Virginia, 1862

  We were sent out to probe the area north of Manassas, to make sure Lee's army wasn't planning to turn north and strike at Washington. We were only a single squad—ten privates, a sergeant, and a corporal—so we weren't looking for a fight with the Rebs. We just wanted to spy on them.

  The sergeant was named Jim Lacey, a slender, bookish man who had been a schoolteacher in Pennsylvania, and who had left a wife and two small children behind when he'd joined up.

  Lying behind a high embankment we could see the glow of fires and hear the faint murmur of voices coming from a Reb encampment about a hundred yards to the south.

  Lacey explained that he had divided the squad between himself and me. "We're gonna move up on them on both flanks," he said. "Corporal Foster will take five men on the right flank and I'll take the remainder on the left. No shooting unless you have no other choice." He took out his knife. "Use your knives and make sure you hide any bodies. We want their officers to think those men deserted, so make sure you take their weapons with you. If you do have to open fire, beat it back here as quick as you can. The ten of us won't stand much of a chance against that many Rebs. So keep in mind that fighting's not what we're here for. We're here to gather information, not to engage the enemy." He leaned over to me. "Try to see if they have any siege cannons. If they're going to move on the capital they'll have those with them."

  We had decent cover as we moved down the slope toward the Reb encampment. The night was overcast and there was no moon to contend with, and the men had left their canteens and mess kits back at our camp to eliminate the clattering noises common to troop movements. We we
re carrying Spencer rifles, along with sidearms and knives. But we were no match for the thousand or so men camped ahead of us.

  We crawled within fifty yards of the Reb camp and could make out sentries twenty yards farther in. They were spaced about fifty yards apart and as I studied them through a glass, they seemed unconcerned and a few appeared to be dozing. After beating us so badly they seemed to have few worries about a counterattack.

  I motioned Abel up beside me. "There's a sentry sound asleep twenty yards ahead of us."

  Abel squinted in the dark. "Yeah, I see him."

  "I'm gonna crawl on up and take him out. That'll give us a hundred yards between the next two sentries, which should be enough cover to get inside their camp. We need a good look at what kind of armaments they have."

  I crawled through the brush, Abel and the other men about ten yards behind me. The sentry had taken a position behind a large rock, and when I came within fifteen feet of it I could hear the faint sound of snoring. I held up my hand, ordering my men to stop, then rose to a crouch and slipped quickly behind the rock.

  The sentry awoke as I moved in on him and started to reach for the rifle that lay beside him. But he never reached it. I slammed the butt of my Spencer into the side of his head, once, twice. The first blow hit with a cracking sound, the second much softer, and when I looked at the side of his head I could see blood and brain matter seeping out from under his gray cap.

  I waved the others up and handed the Reb's rifle to Abel. "Drag the body out of here and find a good place to hide it. Cover it up with thick brush so nobody finds him till long after we're gone. Then wait there for us. We'll come out the same way we went in, so it should be easy for you to join up with us. But if you hear shooting, just head on back and meet up with Lacey and the rest of the squad."

  "I ain't gonna leave ya behind, Jubal."

  I took hold of Abel's sleeve. "It's just better not to waste time lookin' for each other in the dark. We'll meet back where the squad split up."

  He reached down and grabbed the sentry's collar. "Damn," he whispered, "he don't look much older'n sixteen."

  I had tried not to look at the sentry's face, just as I'd tried not to look at the faces of the other men I'd killed. After my first battle at Hoke's Run, a sergeant had warned me against it. To do so, he claimed, would invite those men into your dreams for years to come.

  I looked into Abel's eyes and saw the deep sadness that resided there. I suddenly wished that I felt that sadness myself, but I no longer did, and I wondered which was worse: dreaming about the men you'd killed, or not caring that you had.

  I left the sentry post with three men and we crawled quietly to the edge of the Rebel camp. The campfires were low now, the embers popping and crackling. We skirted the area and moved to the rear. There must have been a thousand men sleeping, most of them in bedrolls, some—officers, I supposed—in tents. We reached a corral where the horses were bedded down. They were not cavalry mounts, but horses used to pull artillery and supply wagons. Moving behind the corral we located the artillery pieces. There were siege cannons, mostly twelve-pound howitzers with a few three-inch ordnance and ten-pound Parrott rifles mixed in. Beside them were the wagons carrying their shells. None of the wagons were guarded.

  I looked through two wagons before I located a box of dynamite and a coil of fuse. The men were staring at me as though I'd lost my mind.

  "We're gonna blow these wagons," I whispered. "We'll set the fuse long enough to give us time to work our way back the way we came. We'll go nice and slow, so we don't wake anybody up. When it blows there'll be so much confusion and panic with all these canisters of grapeshot going off, nobody will think to come after us."

  One of the men glanced at me nervously. "The sergeant said not to engage the Rebs," he whispered back. "Now you plannin' to blow up his camp."

  "We didn't know we were going to find an unguarded gift like this, and we're sure as hell not gonna pass it up."

  We rigged the explosives and returned to the edge of the camp and slowly began to work our way out. I wanted to go back through the empty sentry post and I urged the men to crawl as quickly as they could without making any noise. When the wagons began to explode we'd get up and run full-out for cover. I only hoped that Lacey and his men wouldn't find themselves in the middle of it.

  The first explosion lit up the sky, and as grapeshot began to rain down on the sleeping Rebs I could hear shouts of pain and fear. I got to my feet and urged the men forward and we ran as fast as we could. A few shots rang out from the sentry positions to our right and left but there was little hope of hitting men running full speed in the dark. Ahead, I saw Abel rise from behind a fallen tree and he waved us forward wildly, then joined us as we raced past him, toward the position where our squad had split in two.

  "I hid the body real good," he said as we ran.

  "Doesn't matter," I answered. "They know we were here."

  He started to laugh. "Yeah, they sure do, don't they?"

  We both looked back over our shoulders and saw another plume of fire belch into the air.

  "It's like the Fourth of July," Abel said, laughing as he ran on.

  * * *

  Lacey was waiting with the others when we got there, panting and out of breath.

  "Jesus, what in hell's name did you boys do?" he asked.

  "The Rebs left us a present of some unguarded ammunition wagons," I said, still struggling to regain my breath. "There were siege guns and what other artillery they did have doesn't really matter. There's no ammunition left."

  He shook his head and now he too started to laugh. "You boys earned yourselves a medal for this one. And I'm gonna see that you get it."

  Chapter Ten

  Jerusalem's Landing, Vermont, 1865

  My father and I were in Billy Lucie's dooryard a good half hour before sunrise. Mrs. Lucie invited us in for a steaming cup of coffee and both husband and wife listened quietly as my father explained why we were there.

  "Oh Lord, I sure hope it don't turn out that I hired the man who kilt the poor reverend's son," Billy said. He shook his head and turned to me. "I figured it was somethin' serious when you axed me what time the men started up work in the morning. But I didn't wanna push ya fer yer reasons. Figured ya'd tell me when ya was ready."

  I knew Lucie harbored some concern that I hadn't trusted him the previous day, which wasn't the case. The Lucies were members of Reverend Harris's church, and I had been concerned that Billy might demand some answers from Suggs if I told him about my suspicions. Sitting in his kitchen now I decided not to tell him that part of it. I simply explained that I had wanted to keep Suggs as calm as possible and not send him fleeing in the night.

  "Oh, he ain't gone no place," Lucie said. "Not unless he went on foot. All the boys keep their horses in my barn, and when I went out to give 'em oats this mornin' his was in its stall like always. God, I hope he din' have nothin' ta do with that killin'. I don' think I'd be able ta face the reverend agin iffen he did."

  "Well let's go on up an' talk ta him, see what he has ta say fer himself," my father proposed.

  "I'll go on up with you," Billy said.

  * * *

  The men were just rousing themselves when we reached the bunkhouse and Billy went on inside to give them their work orders as he did each morning. Coffee was brewing on a fire outside and the men began making their way to it, tin mugs in hand.

  When Bobby Suggs stumbled out he immediately saw my father and me seated on our horses.

  "You always was a persistent sumbitch, Jubal Foster," he said. He rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. "Mind if I git some coffee afore I gotta listen ta ya?"

  "Get it, and bring it over here so we can talk."

  He did as he was told, then looked up at me and at my father. "Who's this here fella?" he asked.

  "He's my father, and he's the town constable."

  "Howdy do," Bobby said.

  "We got some questions fer ya, son," my father began.
"First of all, why'd you run off when Jubal was up cheer yesterday?"

  Bobby snorted. "Din' wanna talk ta him. Knew him durin' the war and din' much like him." A smile exposed badly decayed teeth. "Or maybe I thought he was plannin' on kickin' me agin cause he thought I was havin' some sport with some nigger whore."

  My father dismounted his horse, walked over, and took Suggs by the arm, leading him away from the others. He glanced up at me. "Follow along, Jubal, but stay up on yer horse in case you gotta run this fella down."

  "I ain't runnin' no place. I ain't got no reason ta." Suggs tried to pull his arm free, but it was useless. My father's hand was like a large vice and when he wanted to hold onto someone, he held on. I'd seen him do it many a time.

  "You tell us 'bout Johnny Harris, an' ya tell us true," my father said. "I even think yer lyin' ta me, yer ass is gonna be locked up in the sheriff's jail up ta Richmond."

  "Johnny was my frien'," Suggs whined. "I come here ta Vermont ta visit him. I sure had no call ta do him harm."

  "He was such a friend, why weren't you at his funeral?" I asked.

  "He was buried afore I even knew he was dead," Suggs answered. "I was movin' aroun' lookin' fer work in the loggin' camps hereabouts, an' I was sleepin' out at night cause I din' have no extra money fer a room."

  "Why din' Johnny put you up?" my father asked. "Even if his folks din' want you in the house, there woulda been room fer ya in the barn. An' I never heard of Reverend Harris turnin' anybody away."

  "Din' wanna impose on 'em," Suggs said.

  I laughed at the comment, couldn't help myself.

  Suggs glared at me. "It's true, Foster, whether ya wants ta believe it or not."

  I climbed down off my horse and walked up to him. "You're a goddamn liar," I snapped. "You were a liar ever' day I knew you during the war, and you're still a liar."

  "You better be careful what yer sayin', cause I don't care iffen you's a one-arm cripple or not. An' I sure don' care iffen yer some half-cooked lawman. Ya call me a liar one more time we gonna have at it."