The Last, Long Night

by Ginny Dye

  Matthew nodded and made up his mind. “I’m going with you.”

  Peter was already headed in the direction the black soldier had pointed. “Me, too.” He turned to the soldier. “What’s your name?”

  “Clay. I lost me a bunch of friends out there durin’ that fight. I aim to help as many of dem as I can.”

  “Then let’s go find them,” Matthew said firmly.

  Five hours later, the three men had hauled close to fifty soldiers, both black and white, off the battlefield while praying sporadic gunfire from the Confederate entrenchments wouldn’t find their mark. As soon as they got the wounded behind the lines, willing hands carried them to the medic tents.

  Matthew took a deep breath and turned back around for one final trip. He knew he would never forget the sight of the bloated, blackened bodies seeming to float over the ground in the moonlight, but he would also never forget the wide-eyed looks of gratitude when he held water to a soldier’s lips and then carried him to safety and medical care.

  “You can’t go back out there.”

  A hand on Matthew’s arm stopped him. “I’ve got to,” he said desperately. “I might be able to save someone else.” The horror of the night suddenly rose in waves and threatened to overwhelm him. His breath came in short gasps as he pulled at the arm holding him. “Let me go! I can save someone else.”

  The arm held him tight. “Rose will never forgive me if I let something happen to you.”

  Matthew gasped and turned around. “Moses!”

  “Clay told me what you did. He said you helped bring twenty of my men off that field. Me and my boys got some more. They’re pretty bad off, but at least now they stand a chance.” Tears glistening in his eyes, Moses let go of Matthew’s arm and grasped his hand. “Thank you.”

  “We might be able to get some more,” Matthew said urgently, turning to stare over the field.

  “The sun is about to lighten things up,” Moses replied. “You can’t go back out there. Getting yourself killed isn’t going to help any of those men, and your being out there in sight will make the Rebels fire at you. Instead of saving someone, you could be the reason they get shot again.”

  Matthew took a deep breath and nodded slowly, watching as black heaps turned into recognizable forms as the sun turned the smoke into a misty haze. “You’re right,” he said heavily.

  He turned back to Moses. “I’m glad you’re alive.” He’d been about to say he was glad Moses was okay, but one look at the tortured expression on his face told him Moses was far from okay. Matthew knew there were no words that could comfort that kind of pain and agony, so he simply laid his hand on Moses’ shoulder.

  Both of the weary men stared into the field of death and waited for what the new day would bring.

  Carrie was not sure she could take one more day of not knowing whether Robert was dead or alive. She tried berating herself for her feelings and knew women all over the country were suffering. Then she tried telling herself she should be glad Robert wasn’t on the list of soldiers who had died. She was certainly grateful, but the ache inside grew, fueled by the pain and suffering she faced every day at the hospital.

  She stared off to the northeast toward Cold Harbor. Her father had told her the night before that Grant had taken his army and moved. No one was quite sure where he was going yet, but no one had illusions he was simply going away. He would rear his head again, and more suffering would follow.

  Carrie gazed at the horizon, longing for a rainbow to appear in the sky again to infuse her with the hope that had slowly drained from her heart over the last month. She tried to bring it forth in her mind, but nothing materialized. All she could see was thick smoke hovering over the trees in the distance. All she could hear was the sound of more ambulance wagons creaking through the city, competing with the sound of funeral wagons as they wound their way to Oakwood and Hollywood Cemetery.

  She had helped save over a dozen soldiers today. She could certainly be glad about that, but the pain of not knowing still threatened to swallow her. “God…,” she whispered brokenly, fighting back hot tears and forcing herself to take deep breaths.

  Carrie had been here many times before. The last three years had been one long string of pain and not knowing. Yet, she sternly reminded herself, the years had also been full of good moments. Moments when love won. When miracles happened. When good triumphed. She knew she had to hang on to those moments.

  She stood where she had stopped in the road. Gradually, her heartbeat slowed and her breathing became easier. Today had been a hard day. But it would end. Tomorrow would be a new day - one that held hope and promise of better things.

  A breeze sprang up and cooled her hot cheeks. The breeze also carried a whisper…

  The culmination of every day – no matter what it holds – carries the promise that tomorrow will bring the rest of your life. Embrace what has come before. Embrace what is before you. In so doing, you will learn the joy of living.

  The joy of living…. Carrie pondered the words that drifted into her heart. Could it be possible to find joy in the midst of such horror? As her breathing slowed, she remembered the gratefulness on a soldier’s face when she told him his leg had been saved and he would be able to farm again. She remembered the laughter of a small child when he had climbed onto his daddy’s lap to smother him with kisses.

  She even managed a small smile when she remembered the huge pile of roasted meat the men in her ward had consumed that day and their cheering when they learned they were eating the very rats that had crawled through their ward at night.

  You have to look for the joy, Carrie. You have to choose to find it in the midst of the pain. You have to choose….

  Choose.

  Once again, Carrie chose to be stronger than the horrors in her life. “Okay, God,” she whispered. “I choose joy.”

  Carrie felt suddenly eager to have dinner and continue with Georgia’s reading lessons; her smile became genuine as she continued down the hill. Georgia had already come so far.

  “Your smile is the thing that keeps me going, Mrs. Borden.”

  Carrie gasped and started laughing as she flung herself into Robert’s arms when he stepped off the porch.

  Robert grabbed her close and spun her around, then held her as if he would never let her go.

  Carrie knew without looking that his face and eyes were haunted. She stepped back, held his face close in her hands, and poured all the love she could into his eyes. Slowly, very slowly, the pain ebbed away, and a smile began to light his eyes. Carrie knew the pain would return, especially in his dreams, but for as long as he was with her, she would give him all she could to carry him through, knowing these moments would also carry her through.

  “How long?” she finally whispered.

  “I have to leave tomorrow,” Robert replied tenderly. “General Lee is sending me and my men into the Shenandoah Valley to join up with Jubal Early.”

  “I’m glad you’ll be out of Richmond,” Carrie said simply. She knew it also meant it would be longer before she had a chance of seeing him again, but nothing could be as horrible as the battles to take the capital.

  Robert nodded but pulled her close again. “I hate the thought of being so far from you… of leaving you here.” He groaned as he buried his face in her hair.

  “We have to choose joy, Robert,” Carrie said suddenly.

  “Joy?” Robert’s eyes and voice left no doubt what he thought of that.

  “Yes,” Carrie insisted, sharing what she had learned on the way down the hill. “I will hate every minute we are apart, but I can also choose to find joy in the midst of it. We have the power to choose.”

  Robert shook his head as he smiled. “I’ll try, Carrie. I can’t image it right now, but I’ll try.” Then he pulled her up onto the porch. “Janie has given us her room tonight.”

  Carrie gasped suddenly, thinking about Georgia. Robert read her thoughts.

  “I already know about Georgia… or George… or whatever s
he wants to be called. I will admit the whole thing seems preposterous to me, but with only one night to spend with my wife, I simply don't have the energy or desire to think about it.” He began to lower his head. “Can we leave that conversation for another time? We have this one night.”

  Carrie lifted her lips eagerly, her hands pulling his head closer. “Well, then, Mr. Borden, I suggest we make it a night to remember,” she whispered softly, smiling when he grabbed her hand and pulled her up the stairs past a dining room of smiling faces.

  Chapter Eleven

  Robert settled down in the shade of an oak tree and gulped water from his canteen. As much as he wanted to wash off the dust caking his face, he knew better than to waste a single drop of the precious fluid. Summer heat this intense could kill a man quickly. The number of men suffering from heat exhaustion was increasing.

  “You reckon we’re going to do anything but march, Captain?”

  “That’s a good question,” Robert replied, managing a small smile as he answered Alex, a veteran soldier from Virginia who at just twenty-two years old, had many battles under his belt.

  “I was kind of hoping we would stay down in the Shenandoah and take out some more of them Yankees. I hadn’t figured on marching straight up into Maryland.”

  “I’m sure there’s a reason. You’ll find it out soon enough.”

  Alex settled back on his heels and stared at him from under greasy, dusty black hair. “You were called into a meeting last night,” he said slowly. “Didn’t they tell you nothing?”

  Robert shrugged.

  Alex leaned in closer. “Me and the boys would sure like to know what’s going on.”

  “That the reason they sent you over here?”

  Alex smiled. “Could be.”

  Robert laughed. “I can’t tell you anything about General Early’s plans. What I can tell you is that the marching is about to stop. At least for a while,” he added.

  “We figured maybe something would happen after we whupped them Yankees back there outside of Frederick.”

  “That was a solid victory,” Robert agreed, though he was also quite sure Early’s army couldn’t stay north of the Potomac for too long.

  “How come Early didn’t destroy Frederick?” Alex asked. “Me and the boys figured he would set us loose.”

  Robert shrugged. “They paid a $200,000 ransom to save their city. Early decided the Confederacy could use the money more than a burned town.”

  Alex nodded. “That makes sense. That’s a lot of money!”

  Robert nodded, but his thoughts were spinning through what he had learned the night before. The original plan had been for Early to create enough of a crisis that Grant would have to send troops, thereby relieving the pressure the Union was putting on Lee at Petersburg, where Grant had settled in to what looked like would be a long siege.

  Early had been so successful the plans had expanded. Still hoping to wear the North out, Confederate leaders wanted the offensive action north of the Potomac to shock the war-weary North in an election year; assuring Lincoln would lose the presidency.

  But that was just part of the plan. Lee had directed Early to capture Washington if he could; destroy rail and telegraph communications around Baltimore, and free the thousands of prisoners held at Point Lookout in southern Maryland. Along the way he was to gather much needed supplies.

  Robert knew it was a tall order that depended upon speed, deception, and - to some degree - the weather.

  “When you figure we gonna stop marching?” Alex asked. “We’re ready to fight!”

  Robert stared at him and was brought back to the present. “March hard today, Alex. Tell the boys we’ll be done marching for a while tomorrow.” He paused and then saw no reason to avoid filling in one more gap. “We’ll be on the outskirts of Washington.”

  Alex gasped, his eyes growing wide. “Washington, D.C.? The capital?”

  Robert nodded. “I can’t tell you anything else. March hard and drink a lot of water.”

  “Yes, sir!” Alex responded crisply, his eyes alight with excitement as he walked away quickly.

  Robert knew he would spread the word.

  Robert was on his way to the command tent when drunken laughter and loud talking split the early evening heat. “What in the…?”

  “You’re looking at some of the soldiers that raided Montgomery Blair’s house today,” another officer explained, casting a sardonic look at the inebriated cluster.

  Robert stared at the besotted men. “There are hundreds of them!”

  “The cellar was rather full of whiskey barrels,” he said wryly.

  Robert kept watching them, but a detail grabbed his attention. “Montgomery Blair? Isn’t he a member of Lincoln’s cabinet?”

  “Yep. And his father was real big in politics till he retired and founded Silver Springs, Maryland.”

  “Were they captured?”

  “No,” came the disgusted answer. “Seems the entire clan left a few days ago for their annual summer retreat in Pennsylvania.” Then he chuckled. “Let’s just say their estates won’t look quite the same when they get back!”

  Robert smiled and then ducked his head to enter the tent.

  Early was waiting for them, his face flushed with frustration. “I had planned on launching an attack this afternoon, but our troops are too exhausted from the heat and the long march.”

  “Not to mention drunk as skunks,” another officer muttered.

  Early sighed. “That, too,” he admitted.

  “Are we attacking in the morning?” Robert asked.

  Early hesitated and then shook his head. “It’s too risky. We don’t know how many soldiers are in that fort. I’ve decided to take another day for reconnaissance before we go after them.”

  Robert frowned but didn’t voice his concern. The troops had already been delayed on their march. Waiting one more day might not matter at all… or it might mean the difference between defeat and victory.

  Abby was deep in a meeting regarding her business when bells began to clang all over Washington. She sprang up and ran toward an open window. “What in the world? I thought the bells were supposed to ring only when the capital was under attack.” She whirled around to stare at her business associate, Mr. Patrick Hill.

  “That’s true, Mrs. Livingston,” Patrick snapped, stuffing papers into his briefcase. “I believe it would be prudent to find out what is happening.”

  Minutes later Abby was out on the porch staring around at the wild chaos surrounding her.

  “The Rebels are about to attack!” she heard several women scream.

  Men dashed around with white, set faces.

  “Grant was so certain the South would never dare come north to attack our capital,” Patrick said angrily. “Now they seem to be here, and to the best of my knowledge, we have hardly any troops to stop them.”

  “But what about all the fortifications?” Abby protested.

  “They are no good without men in them to fight,” Patrick said heavily. “It takes forty-five thousand men to fill all those forts and rifle pits. I am quite sure we have only a few hundred.”

  “Hundred?” Abby gasped, suddenly very frightened.

  Patrick nodded grimly. “I must go see where I can be of use.” He started to walk away, but then spun around. “Do you have a way to get back home? When is your driver scheduled to arrive?”

  “I’ll take her home.”

  Abby gasped and turned around at the sound of the familiar voice. “Matthew!” She nodded to Patrick. “I’ll be fine. You go ahead. My prayers are with you.” Then she turned into the hug Matthew had waiting for her. “What are you doing here? How do you always manage to save me?” She laughed as tears of relief filled her eyes.

  “I was hoping to find you before you grabbed a gun and went off to fight.” Matthew said teasingly.

  “Hardly!” Abby retorted. “But, Matthew, is it really as bad as Patrick made it sound?”

  “It’s not good,” Matthew admitt
ed, his bright blue eyes shadowed with concern.

  “How did Rebel troops get so close to Washington? I thought I was in one of the safest cities in the world.”

  “Well, you would be except that it never crossed Grant’s mind that Lee would be bold enough to send twenty thousand men into the North.”

  “Twenty thousand?” Abby gasped. She looked around, trying to make herself stay calm. “What will happen if they take the city?”

  “Our soldiers are on the way now,” Matthew assured her. “I came in on the boats with thousands of men. More are on the way.”

  “But why has Grant waited so long? Surely someone knew twenty thousand Confederate soldiers were crossing Maryland.”

  Matthew nodded. “Grant received word from many people that General Early was invading the North. But with each message, he blindly wired back that General Early was still with Lee in Richmond. Grant refused to take it seriously.”

  Abby was flabbergasted. “But….”

  Matthew held his finger to his lips. “It’s best not to try to understand it. I’ve been trying for the last two months to make sense out of this war, and I still can’t. I report the facts, but I can’t pull anything out of them that creates a picture I can understand.”

  “You don’t think Grant is a good general?”

  Matthew shrugged. “I’m not sure what to think. I know he promised President Lincoln he would not repeat other generals’ mistakes - that he would not leave Richmond until the job is done. He’s still there. He’s a fighter; I’ll give him that.”

  “But….”

  “But he seems to treat our troops as if they are simply expendable numbers on a chart,” he said hotly. “The Rebels mow them down when he sends them into impossible situations. Then he just sends in more soldiers.”

  Abby looked deeply into Matthew’s eyes and saw only sorrow and pain. “I’m sorry.” She grasped both his hands. “This will all end, Matthew,” she said tenderly. “Nothing lasts forever. No matter how horrible the war is, it will end. And then all of us can go about the job of healing – our hearts and our country.”