by Ginny Dye
“She’s lucky to have you for a friend.”
“I owe my life and freedom to her,” Moses said quietly. “And she’s Rose’s best friend. I would do anything for her.”
Simon nodded but then added with a scowl, “I hate being stuck away in Fort Stedman like this. Not much is likely to happen here.”
Moses gazed over the top of the trench at the earthen walls of moated Fort Stedman less than fifty feet away. “About the only thing that can be said for this position is that we’re the closest to the Confederate lines.” He smiled tightly. “Did you know some of their men came over a few weeks ago to do some trading?”
He smiled at Simon’s astonished look. “They didn’t have much to trade with, but I hear they went back with some much desired tobacco and coffee.” He shook his head. “I heard our boys were laughing it up with them, and then about thirty minutes after they went back to their trenches we were exchanging fire again.”
“You reckon that’s true?” Simon asked.
“It’s true,” Moses confirmed. “There is nothing normal about this war. I’ve known it since the beginning, but as it draws to a close, it seems to get more bizarre.” He stared over at the Confederate lines. “I can’t help pitying those men.”
Simon nodded. “You can hear their coughing and hacking all night long. Don’t sound to me like any of them are well. We may be miserable, but at least we have warm clothes and food.”
“I’ve seen a bunch of them changing places in the trenches. They don’t look like much more than skeletons,” Moses said sympathetically. “It’s pathetic.”
Simon gazed toward the rebel fortifications. “I wonder what keeps them fighting.”
“Same thing that keeps us fighting,” Moses said shortly. “They’re being told to fight, and they have loved ones to protect.” He grew pensive. “I wonder if they realize it’s almost over. There’s no way they can stop what is about to hit them.”
Simon nodded. “What will you do after the war, Moses?”
Moses smiled. They’d had this discussion for what seemed like a thousand times, but he knew thinking of the future made living the present more bearable.
“I’ll spend every moment glad I can spend each day with Rose and John, and then we’ll have many more children who will grow up free.” His smile grew broader. “I’ll find a farm somewhere and help Rose become a teacher. My goal is to have one of the biggest tobacco farms in the South one day.”
The misery of the muddy trenches dissolved into the glory of a shining future alive in his mind. He turned to Simon. “What about you?”
“I’m headed north,” he said, swinging his gaze in that direction. “Me and June talked about it over Christmas. We had enough of the South. We might come back some day, but we don’t reckon things will change very fast even though we’re free. We figures we have better opportunities in the North.”
Moses nodded thoughtfully, wondering, as he had for weeks now, whether he should tell Simon he had discovered that racism was rampant in the North too. So far, Moses had remained silent, knowing it wasn’t worse than in the South, but pondering whether he should prepare Simon for that reality. For the moment, Moses decided to let Simon’s fantasies make his days easier. “Sounds good,” he said.
Simon went back to writing his letter to June. “I’m telling her we’re sitting around until Grant is ready to take action.”
Robert gripped his gun more tightly as he waited for the word that would send him surging forward with the eleven thousand men Lee had given to General Gordon. He was quite sure the pre-dawn attack would be a total surprise. No one expected the Confederates to be bold enough to launch an attack, which was probably the only reason it might work. Robert wished he could quell the uneasy feeling spiraling through his gut, but also realized he felt that way before every battle. Lee’s audacity had paid off in the past – the general might pull off another miracle.
The nine-foot-tall earthen walls of Fort Stedman stood in dark shadows in the frosty distance. Robert knew from his briefing what would happen soon. General Gordon had selected lead parties of sharpshooters and engineers masquerading as deserting soldiers to go out first to overwhelm Union pickets and remove wooden obstructions that would delay the infantry advance.
The rest of the attacking infantry would wait for the signal to advance. Robert worried about the early morning air, clear and calm, which would carry voices and other sounds clearly. Anything that give away the surprise attack would be disastrous.
Robert watched with suspended breath as the lead brigade moved into the tall corn field across from Fort Stedman. White strips of cloth pulled over the men’s right shoulders diagonally to the left side and tied around their waists stood out clearly. That precaution was to make sure Rebel soldiers could recognize each other in the darkness.
Robert stiffened as the voice of a Union sentry rang through the frosty air. “I say, Johnny, what are you doing in that corn?”
The answer came quickly. “All right, Yank, I’m just gathering me a little corn to parch.”
The brief silence resonated more loudly than the spoken words as Robert tensed, ready to rush forward if the game was up. While sharpshooters might rule in daylight, one oddity of war was that at night the opposing guards, separated by less than five hundred feet, often became quite chummy. This plan of attack depended on that.
“All right, Johnny, I won’t shoot.”
Robert sagged with relief and sensed his men up and down the line doing the same thing. He fought to control the cough struggling to escape.
Long minutes stretched out until another call came from the Union picket. “I say, Johnny, isn’t it almost daylight? I think it’s time they were relieving us.”
Robert grinned as the answer rang back clearly. “Keep cool, Yank; you’ll be relieved in a few minutes.”
Robert knew the relief his fellow soldier had in mind would not be what the Union private was anticipating. The rustling noises in the corn had been lead soldiers carefully dragging aside sections of chevaux-de-frise – spiked wooden barriers chained end to end – to create an opening through which Rebel infantrymen could attack the Federal lines.
Robert also knew a line of sharpshooters had crept as closely to the Union picket line as possible and lay waiting. From his place at the front of the long columns, Robert had a clear view of what was happening, though early morning fog was starting to gather in the hollows.
The drama continued to unfold as a small group of sharpshooters, pretending to desert, moved toward the Federal picket lines. The irony of the scene struck Robert because enough men had actually deserted to make this charade seem real.
Robert held his breath as the sharpshooters’ commander jumped up and, in an effort to make it more realistic, shouted, “Oh, boys, come back! Don’t go!”
“Come on, Johnnies,” the Union picket yelled, but then fell silent as the masquerading deserters overpowered him and knocked him out.
Robert could see scuffling black shadows until one Union picket escaped, fired off his gun, and shouted, “The Rebels are coming! The Rebels are coming!”
Moments later three quick shots from the Confederate side signaled the attack. Robert rose with the rest of his men and surged forward. Their job at the front of the columns was to remove obstructions so that the men could pass through quickly.
Moses bolted upward as the Union’s sharp cry and the crack of the rifle fire jolted him from sleep.
Simon already had sat up staring at him. “What was that, Moses? I heard someone yell!”
Once more the cry rent the air. “The Rebels are coming!”
Moses jumped up, grabbed his rifle, and called for his men. Then he listened urgently for the order telling him what to do.
Robert continued to move, pulling aside obstructions until he was almost to the walls of Fort Stedman. So far, no counterattack had begun. The element of surprise, however, vanished when a unit of sharpshooters ran forward, yelling crazily.
&nbs
p; Robert groaned and sprinted forward as the fort’s cannons opened up. He led his men at top speed, gasping with relief when he realized they had all gotten under the line of fire without being hit. He refused to allow himself to think about men further back. When they reached the spiked logs protecting the fort parapet, they worked quickly to tear it apart; hacking at them and dragging them out of the way.
With the logs demolished, Robert saw his men look to him for direction. He realized they couldn’t climb the slippery parapet with increasing fire coming down from Union infantrymen above. He took a deep breath, raised his rifle to his shoulder, and commanded, “Shoot every Yankee that shows himself!”
His men cried out their Rebel yell and surged forward. Robert spied a low spot in the parapet and led the way by scaling it, and waited until his men had followed. Then his troops formed a line, and they moved forward.
“We got ‘em, Captain,” one yelled. “Look, they’re taking prisoners!”
Robert nodded grimly and knew much fiercer resistance would occur when word of the attack reached Union command. He watched for a moment as individuals, and then groups, of Federal soldiers threw up their hands and surrendered. “Keep moving, men!” he hollered as he gripped his rifle more tightly and sprinted forward, his eyes sweeping the darkness for more enemy combatants.
“Take your men and get up on the walls,” an officer yelled to Moses.
Relieved to have an order, Moses turned immediately and called for his men. They all leapt from the trench, climbed to the top of the fort, and began firing down at the mass of men moving toward them in the darkness while the sun brightened the eastern horizon a deep blue. “Stop them!”
It took only a few minutes to realize that wasn’t going to happen. The Confederate attack had been well thought out, focused on what was possibly the weakest point in the entire Union line. Once again, Lee’s determination to take the offensive had been underestimated.
Suddenly, Captain Jones appeared behind Moses. “Take your men and retreat,” he yelled. “We won’t stop them here.”
Moses stared down at the endless shadows of men streaming toward them. “We can stop some,” he yelled back.
Captain Jones shook his head. “Fall back and wait for orders.” He stepped closer and shouted into Moses’ ear. “You don’t want your men captured!”
Moses stiffened, knowing Captain Jones was referring to the massacre at Fort Pillow. He whipped around, raised his arm, and yelled, “Retreat, men! Fall back!” He prayed the darkness and chaos would allow his men to escape.
As Moses gathered with his troops outside the fort walls, he heard the Rebels cheering in victory. Fort Stedman now belonged to the South. Moses retreated with his men back into the woods’ dark shadows as he looked for a commanding officer to put them to use.
“Keep moving, Captain Borden! We take Fort Haskell next!”
Robert allowed himself a moment of exhilaration that Fort Stedman was now in Confederate hands, but he knew the day had just started. He yelled for his men and continued to press forward in the dark, firing at anything they saw moving in front of them, knowing they had found a target when they heard screams. He could see the shadows of Fort Haskell in the distance, but suddenly tensed when absolutely no response came from within.
He stared with confusion at the hulking fort. There was no way the alarm had not been raised. His understanding was that his men were coming at the fort from the rear, a possible explanation for why their approach was so easy, but his gut was screaming something was terribly wrong as they drew closer. He felt certain the Rebel forces were moving into a trap, but all they could do was press forward.
Moments later the guns of Fort Haskell exploded in horrific roars that split the night – and also split his men’s charge. He groaned as man after man fell around him, but Robert continued to run forward, knowing his orders were to take the fort.
As more and more men fell, and the guns - with accurate aim now that daylight was coming - continued their relentless thundering, he knew it was hopeless and called for his men to retreat. Robert was done with sending his men into senseless slaughter.
As his men moved back and waited for new orders, it struck him that there was little panic on the Federal side. General Gordon had hoped for disintegration of the Union lines under the fury of their surprise attack.
He wasn’t getting what he had hoped for.
Moses watched the wild chaos, uncertain what to do next as he pulled his men into the woods. The sun had lightened the sky enough to make hiding a poor option, and the Rebels had given up any pretense of stealth as they began shelling from Fort Stedman.
“I reckon we best keep moving,” Simon observed.
Moses nodded grimly and waved his men forward through the woods, farther into the Union lines while he looked for a unit they could join. Moses knew it was just a matter of time before the tide turned. The Federal response would overwhelm the weaker Rebels.
Just as Robert thought there was no hope of taking Fort Haskell, he realized other Union forts had begun to fire on the fort themselves, not realizing it had not yet fallen. Robert stopped his retreat, turned, and waved his men forward. “Let’s get them!” His men turned with a roar and joined the new divisions surging toward the fort.
It wasn’t long, though, before he saw a detachment of Union soldiers break free from the fort and wave their colors to other Union troops as a signal that the fort had not fallen. Three of the Union men were shot down before the rest slipped back inside, but their mission had been fulfilled. As the roar of cannon stopped from the other forts, Confederate sharpshooters, determined to take the fort, rose from their hiding places and raced forward.
Blistering fire from Fort Haskell obliterated their advance.
As Robert dropped to the ground with his men, the sun had come up enough to reveal how desperate their position was. He bit back a groan as he looked around. Fort Stedman lay at the apex of an arc, with Fort Haskell and Fort McGilvery at the end. Union artillery commanded the ground behind Fort Stedman, making any Rebel withdrawal risky.
Alex slithered up next to him through the brush. “Ain’t looking so good, Captain!” he said breathlessly. “What do you want us to do?”
Robert shook his head and then sank lower to the ground when Union gunners on the high ground east of Fort Stedman opened fire with a hurricane of shells.
When he heard the order to retreat, Robert knew it would be even more dangerous than the advance. Nothing was there to protect them from the sights of massive artillery batteries.
“What do I want you to do?” Robert shouted, as he raised his arm and then sprang to his feet to sprint forward. “Retreat! And stay alive!”
The Union assault grew even more brutal when they saw the Confederates waver. Wave after wave of infantry attacked, the barrage of blistering shells relentless. Robert groaned as he and his men ran through no man’s land and leapt over fallen bodies in that field of slaughter. He knew some men would choose to be captured, but he would give his all to get back behind the lines of protection. Robert had seen what prison had done to Matthew. He had no desire to experience that for himself, and the agony Carrie would go through if he was taken prisoner kept him running.
He ran, expecting a bullet to penetrate his body at any time. When he reached the other side and dove into a trench, only then did he risk looking back at the battlefield. He gasped, groaning at the sight of the spreading carnage.
Moses heaved a sigh of relief when he ran into an officer advancing on the Rebels.
“What are you doing, soldier?” he asked Moses curtly.
“Looking for someone to fight with, sir!” Moses replied strongly.
“You’ve found someone,” he snapped curtly. “Join with my men to drive the Rebels all the way back!”
Moses’ unit turned with a roar and pressed forward, determined to take back what had been taken from them. They pressed forward into sight of Fort Stedman and continued to fire steadily, cheering when the
Confederate retreat turned into a panicked rout.
Moses grinned at his men and waved them toward the fort. “Let’s take our fort back!” he yelled before he saw the guns of the fort swing in their direction.
As he raced forward, he felt a heavy force slam into his chest and propel him backwards. He slammed back into the ground with a groan and then struggled to stand again to continue forward. Confusion overtook him when he couldn’t move.
His eyes wide with alarm, Simon knelt beside him. “Don’t move, Moses. You been shot.”
“You have to keep moving,” Moses gasped. “Stay with the men...”
Simon shook his head. “You my best friend, Moses. The Rebels is on the run. It’s over. I’m right here with you.”
Still not feeling any pain from getting shot, Moses stared up at him. “Is it bad?” he asked quietly, the look on Simon’s face saying it must be.
Simon hesitated and then nodded, his eyes wide as he took his hand. “It’s bad.”
Union men continued forward, racing around Moses and Simon, as they pursued the Rebels. Cannon fire and gunshots blasted a constant cacophony. All the while, the sun warmed the ground as a soft breeze sprang up.
Moses gritted his teeth against the pain that suddenly hit and thought about Rose. If he had to die, at least it was going to be on a pretty spring morning. He closed his eyes and saw the green sprigs of tobacco plants penetrating the soil, reaching for the light; Roses’ shining eyes and brilliant smile gazing down at all of it.
He forced his eyes open, everything fuzzy as he looked up and saw Simon’s scared eyes. “You tell Rose I love her,” he whispered. “Her and little John.”
Simon wiped at the tears on his face as he grasped Moses’ hand. “I’ll tell her,” he promised, “but you ain’t dead yet, Moses.” He moved his face into Moses’ range of vision and stared down at him. “You got to hold on, Moses. You got to hold on!”