When Johnny Came Marching Home

by William Heffernan

  "You're welcome to come with me," I said.

  "No, no. If he'd wanted me there, he'd of axed me. This sounds like somethin' he jus' needs ta talk ta ya about."

  * * *

  Reverend Harris opened the door to the parsonage and ushered me into the sitting room. It was a room I had grown to dislike, the same room where Johnny's body had been laid out in full uniform, his medals pinned to his tunic.

  "Can I offer you some cider, Jubal?" Reverend Harris asked when I was seated.

  "No, thank you, sir. I was at a picnic today and drank all the cider I can hold."

  "I know, I heard about your picnic."

  "Heard about it? How did you hear about it?"

  "Bobby Suggs stopped by and told me," he said. "He's very concerned that you're out to do him harm. He came to me last week and told me you had confronted and threatened him in Richmond."

  I steamed inwardly. "Bobby Suggs is a suspect in Johnny's murder," I said. "I was warning him to stay close to Jerusalem's Landing until we arrest someone for that crime."

  "He told me there was another time when you tried to have him arrested; tried to have Johnny arrested too, but the military wouldn't do what you wanted."

  I felt trapped. I had no intention of telling Johnny's father about the crimes his son had committed with Suggs and with others, or about my failed attempts to seek justice for what they had done.

  "I did accuse Suggs of crimes while we were in the army," I said.

  "And Johnny also?" There was a slight crack in Reverend Harris's voice.

  "He's just telling you that to try and get you on his side."

  "What did you feel he had done?"

  "It's not worth talking about. Just be careful of him, Reverend. He's a dangerous man, and a bad one."

  Reverend Harris gave me a tired smile. "It's my job, my duty, to help those who have fallen by the wayside."

  "Well, this is a dangerous wayside, Reverend. Bobby Suggs was a killer in the army, a stone-cold killer. Please don't forget that."

  "Many good men were forced to kill during that terrible war," he said.

  "That's true, Reverend. But most men put it aside. Bobby Suggs enjoyed killing, even if the people he killed were unarmed civilians; he looked forward to it, and I don't think that feeling went away when the war was over."

  * * *

  Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, 1863

  A hospital had been set up in the town of Gettysburg, and I was told I'd be confined there until my wound healed. The doctors warned that infection was now the greatest danger, that it was important to keep the wound clean and dry. I had also been told that I probably would not return to duty for several months; that General Lee had begun a tortuous retreat back into northern Virginia, with Union cavalry and ground forces harassing him every step of the way.

  The Battle of Gettysburg had claimed some 50,000 casualties, half that number from each side. Our officers considered it a mortal blow for the South. Lee had lost 13,000 men at Chancellorsville, and now another 25,000 at Gettysburg, and he still lacked the ability to replenish his ranks. The South simply didn't have the men. The Union had also named General Ulysses Grant, the hero of the Vicksburg campaign, as overall commander of federal forces, and he was rumored to be on his way to Virginia to make a final assault on Richmond and end the war.

  During my second day in the hospital Abel came to visit me, his tunic emblazoned with new corporal's stripes.

  "They put me in charge of the unit till ya git yer ass back," he told me. "Johnny's madder'n a hornet with a hard-on. Says him and Josiah's the only boys from Jerusalem's Landing ain't got any rank."

  "You keep an eye on him," I said. "Don't let him take up with Suggs and that crowd."

  "I'll do what I kin. I 'spect we're gonna be pullin' out any day now. Lieutenant said soon as General Grant gits here we're gonna be all over wha's lefta Lee's army."

  I didn't tell Abel that lieutenants seldom knew what they were talking about. I figured he'd learn that fast enough all by himself.

  "They say I could be here a couple of months. They're worried about infection."

  "Will ya join up with us after that?" he asked.

  "Come hell or high water."

  "By the way, I wrote ta Rebecca an' tol' her how ya was wounded an' all.'

  "You didn't."

  "I sure did."

  "What exactly did you tell her?"

  Abel smiled at me. "I tol' her ya went an' got yerself shot in the ass," he said. "Hell, Jubal, she's done got her cap set fer ya, an' her bein' my sister an' all—my only sister—I figgered she had a right ta know. Can't 'spect a gal to go marryin' a man's got two holes in his ass, an' her not knowin'."

  "You son of a bitch," I hissed, stifling a chuckle. "I'll fix you for this. You can count on it."

  I could still hear him laughing as he walked out of the hospital ward.

  * * *

  It was two months before I could walk without pain. There had been a small infection, but nothing serious. As I rehabilitated my wound I walked about the town and the surrounding countryside, my treks always seeming to end at the massive cemetery where those who died in the battle had been buried. The cemetery was on the summit of Cemetery Ridge where we had finally defeated Lee's forces. Each time I went there more fresh graves were in evidence. The wounded continued to die, the number of casualties growing and growing, and I thought about the families learning that their sons and husbands would never be coming home. I couldn't even begin to imagine what such a message would mean to my father.

  Please don't let it be any of us, I silently prayed. Please, God, bring Abel and Johnny and Josiah and me home again. And let this damnable war be over soon.

  * * *

  It was autumn before I rejoined my unit. There had been a series of skirmishes along the Blue Ridge Mountains, all proving indecisive, as Union forces continued to harass Lee's retreating army. General Grant arrived and took overall command. My unit remained under General Meade, the only Union general to defeat Lee. Our officers claimed we were maneuvering Lee's army into a position where he would be forced to either commit all his forces to defend Richmond, or flee. Richmond, they claimed, would be a death knell for the Confederacy when taken, and Lee would have no choice but surrender. Meanwhile, our own troops were being rested, their supplies replenished, and my unit was marking time by making renewed forays into the surrounding countryside to keep track of enemy forces and pick up any Rebel deserters we could find.

  On one such foray we came across what appeared to be an abandoned tobacco plantation, where I decided I could rest my men before pushing on. Clothing and shattered furniture were scattered about the yard in front of the main house, and as we entered we found much the same inside. I climbed the wide staircase and went inside the first bedroom I found. It too was ransacked and empty. But the second bedroom was not. There I found an elderly woman being cared for by an equally old Negro. The white woman wore bedclothes and appeared to be ill; the Negro woman was dressed in a tattered calico dress and had a white scarf tied around her head. She was rail-thin and easily into her sixties.

  "Ain' nothin' leff," the Negro woman said. "Yer boys done took ever'thin'."

  "Are there any other people here?" I asked.

  "Jus' two slaves like me. Yer boys kilt ever'body else. Kilt dis lady's husband, took 'er granchil' off someplace. Girl was only fo'teen."

  "You're not a slave anymore," I said. "President Lincoln freed all the Negroes."

  The woman snorted. "He say da place we was suppose ta go? He say anythin' 'bout food ta eat an' a place ta sleep?"

  "I don't know," I said.

  "Din' think ya did." She looked at me as if I was some fool who had stumbled into her home.

  "We can take the lady to a hospital," I said. "You can go with her if you want."

  "She don' wanna go no place. Wants ta die right here inner house."

  "You said Union troops did this. Were there Rebel soldiers here?"

  "Ain' nobo
dy but two ol' peoples an' a granchil'. Dem boys a your'n take ever'thin' dey kin an' den dey starts killin'."

  I went downstairs and pulled Abel aside and told him about the two women upstairs and what the elderly Negro had said.

  "There's been a lotta that," Abel commented.

  "Who's doing it?"

  "Lotta people. Bobby Suggs fer one, ya ask me." He held up his hands. "I can't prove it, but he sure does seem ta have a lotta stuff he's sellin' an' tradin'. Watches. Silver hairbrushes. All kinda stuff he sure din' git from home."

  "Did you report it to the lieutenant?"

  "He don' wanna know. Tol' me ta forgit it. Says those things happen inna war."

  * * *

  Back at camp I went to see the lieutenant myself and got the same answer. He told me to send a wagon out to collect the old woman so we could give her medical care. I did as he said, but when the wagon returned the driver said the old woman was dead. I asked after the Negro woman and he just shrugged his shoulders.

  "Don' have no idea where them niggers is goin'," he said.

  The next day I saw Johnny talking with Bobby Suggs, and when they finished I pulled Johnny aside.

  Once we were alone I pointed to the area outside camp. "You been going over there with Bobby Suggs?"

  Johnny shrugged, feigning innocence, and asked what I meant, but his eyes had become suddenly defensive.

  "Have you?" I demanded.

  "Once or twice," he said.

  "Is Suggs raiding houses out there?"

  "I dunno if ya'd call it raidin'. We find an empty house, we check an' see if it's got any provisions. Ya know what I'm talkin' 'bout: bacon, ham, any preserves, stuff like that. Got myself a jar of cherry preserves a week back. It was sure good eatin'."

  "We came across a house that had been ransacked. The old man who owned it was killed; his little fourteen-year-old grandchild was taken off someplace."

  Johnny held up both hands. "Hey, I don' know nothin' 'bout anythin' like that." His expression hardened. "Ya know, Jubal, some a these civilians yer so worried 'bout, they'll kill ya as soon as look at ya. While you was restin' up in that hospital, I seen a farmer take an axe ta one a our boys. Buried it in that poor boy's back, killed him dead away, then he screamed at us that he was gonna kill all the bluebellies he could. We shot him dead right where he stood. Anyways, this house ya went to, I ain't gonna shed no tears over it. Besides, it coulda been Reb deserters done what ya found; prob'ly was. There's a lot of 'em out there, an' most of 'em is starvin' an' pretty wild."

  I nodded, still not convinced. "Yeah, it could have been. Just so it wasn't any of our men. You hear about anybody doing that sort of thing, you come let me know. Agreed?"

  "Sure enough, Jubal. I hear anythin', anythin' at all, an' I'll come an' tell ya right off."

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Jerusalem's Landing, Vermont, 1865

  The morning chill forced me to turn up the collar of my coat, and the fallen leaves, coated with a heavy frost, crunched beneath my feet. I had taken a seat on my front porch to wait for Josiah when a wagon laden with cut timber passed along the main road on its way to the sawmill. Three men were seated on the back of the wagon, cant hooks laid across their laps, and as they passed one of the men turned his head away and pulled down the brim of his hat.

  Josiah rode up minutes later and climbed down from his horse.

  "Bobby Suggs just rode on by with a wagonload of Billy Lucie's timber," I said.

  "T'was kind of 'em," Josiah said. "Saved us a long ride."

  Josiah put his horse in our barn and we walked down to the sawmill. I went inside the shack that served as the main office and told Jesse Barton, the yard manager, that I needed to talk to one of the men unloading Billy Lucie's wagon in the rear yard. He glanced at my half-empty sleeve and told me to be careful, that those big pieces of timber could roll off the wagons without warning. I wanted to tell him that my legs could still move as fast as they ever could, but knew it would be a waste of time, so I just smiled and thanked him.

  I had a set of handcuffs in my jacket pocket and I took them out and tucked them into my belt so they were visible. I had little hope of using them, and they were more for intimidation than anything else.

  "You gonna lock his ass up?" Josiah asked.

  "If he gives me a reason. Right now I just want him to know I can, and that I'm thinking on it."

  "I wish ya would," Josiah said. "I'd ride alla way ta Richmond wit ya if ya done it."

  Josiah hated Suggs as much as I did, but why shouldn't he? He had been with me at Spotsylvania and had seen what Suggs and Johnny and the others had done.

  "Betta yet," he added, "ya oughtta jus' take 'em out ta the woods an' bury the sumbitch. Snow's comin' soon, so's the varmints won' find 'em till spring."

  Bobby had his back to us so he didn't see us approaching, and when he finally turned we were standing only five feet away. The sight startled him, bringing a smile to Josiah's face.

  Suggs glared at Josiah. "What you smilin' at, nigger?"

  Josiah took a step toward him. "White trash is always makin' me smile," he said. His body was coiled and waiting for Suggs to make a physically aggressive move.

  Suggs turned quickly to me. "What do ya want? Ain't ya bothered me enough?"

  "I haven't even begun to bother you," I said.

  Suggs was holding the long handle of his cant hook in both hands, and I knew it would take little effort to swing it toward me and stab me in the chest.

  "Put your hook down and come over to that stack of lumber behind me. I want to talk to you privately," I said.

  "You kin talk ta me right cheer," Suggs spat.

  His hands tightened on the cant hook and I pulled my coat back to make my pistol more accessible. It also gave Suggs a good look at the handcuffs tucked into my belt. "Last chance, Bobby," I warned.

  "You gonna arress me?"

  "Depends on you, Bobby. You do as you're told, you might be back to work in ten minutes. You don't, I promise you your day's gonna be one long misery."

  Suggs cursed and dropped his cant hook to the ground, then walked past me, stopping again at the stack of cut lumber.

  Behind us the heavy saw started up and began to chop the first of the tall pines from Billy Lucie's wagon. It was a high screeching sound, and sawdust floated into the air as the raw timber was cut into long white boards.

  I gestured for Bobby to go to the other side of the lumber stack to cut down on the noise. He hesitated at first, but finally complied. He seemed to realize that I was just looking for an excuse to hand him a bit of the misery I had promised.

  "All right, what do ya want?" He shouted out the words to be heard over the high-pitched wail of the saw.

  "I didn't like the little games you were playing yesterday, Bobby."

  "Wha' games?"

  I took a step in, bringing myself close enough to grab him. "Following us around." I turned my hand into a gun and pointed it at him. "Trying to intimidate Abel's sister."

  "'At girl was the fat boy's sister?"

  I lashed out with the back of my hand and struck his face as hard as I could.

  Suggs staggered back, his hat flying off, and Josiah grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. He had pulled a hunting knife from the sheath on his belt and had the blade pressed against Bobby's throat.

  "Lemme cut this sumbitch's head off," he hissed.

  Bobby's eyes widened in terror and, afraid to turn his head, he desperately tried to watch Josiah out of the corner of one eye. "Git him off me," he begged. "This black bastid's gonna cut my throat."

  "I expect he will, you keep calling him a black bastard," I said. "I happen to know for sure that Josiah's momma and daddy were married.Are we going to have any more of your games?"

  "No, no games." He again tried to look down at the blade pressed to his neck. "He's cuttin' me. He's cuttin' me! I kin feel the blood."

  I peeked at Bobby's throat and saw a line of sweat running down his neck.


  "You're just sweating like the pig you are, Suggs." I took his shirt front and Josiah moved the knife away, but kept it ready in his hand. I brought my mouth close to his ear, taking in the rank odor that came off his body. "And you smell like one," I added. I straightened up, holding him at arm's length. "I'm going to tell you this once. You ever again say anything like that about Abel Johnson, and I will cut your throat myself. Do you understand me?"

  "I unnerstan'." He pulled back and straightened his shirt. "You been affer me fer a long time, Jubal. Ya even tried ta git me in trouble wit the army. Johnny too. Oh yeah, he tol' me all 'bout it when I got cheer. I din' know it afore, but he did, an' he tol' me. But ya couldna prove nothin' then, an' ya ain't got no proof 'bout nothin' now. So you best be leavin' me alone."

  "You want me to leave you alone?"

  "Tha's right."

  "Not on the best day of your miserable life," I said.

  * * *

  Josiah and I walked back to the house, saying very little until we got there.

  I turned to face him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You are one scary man," I said. "I thought Bobby Suggs was going to wet his pants."

  "Wouldna been able ta tell iffen he done it," Josiah said. "Man smells as bad as he does. You looked like you was gonna kill 'em when he said 'at 'bout Abel."

  I slowly nodded my head. "You and I both know what he did. He killed Abel, sure as we're standing here."

  Now it was Josiah's turn to nod his head. "Yessir, he sure did. Him and Johnny Harris bowf."

  * * *

  Rapidan River, Virginia, 1864

  We were camped along the banks of the Rapidan River, only a few miles from Chancellorsville and a few more from Fredericksburg. There were a number of small units, mine among them, scouting the woods and farmlands to see if Lee's forces would try to reestablish his army in the area. The people who lived in that region of Virginia had been among the most rabid supporters of the Confederacy, taunting us whenever we moved through the area, even taking the occasional shot as we marched past. Now, with Lee's defeat at Gettysburg and newspaper reports about the devastation General William Tecumseh Sherman was wreaking across the deep South, a mood of inevitable defeat seemed to permeate the population. Some store owners and tavern keepers had even begun to trade openly with Union troops, appearing to want good relations with an army that seemed certain to become an occupying force.