The Thackery Journal

by John Holt

  Jacob was not really interested in hearing about Henry’s relatives. He wanted to know why Miles had gone to Washington, so he asked the question once again.

  “He intends joining the Union Army,” Henry replied. “He intends joining the troop based at Fort Massachusetts. He’s due to report sometime in May I believe.”

  “So he is actually going to do it. To join the Union Army,” Jacob said. “He said that he would but I just didn’t believe him. I didn’t think that he really meant it, Henry. I thought that it was just, oh, I don’t know, just Miles talking big, showing off perhaps.”

  “Oh no, he meant it all right, I’m sorry to say,” Henry replied.

  “But why would he want to join with the North?” asked Jacob.

  “Well he was always against slavery,” said Henry wistfully.

  “So was I,” replied Jacob. “So were you come to that, but we aren’t joining the Union Army are we?”

  “No,” Henry replied almost in a whisper. “No we’re not.” He looked down staring at the ground, tears forming in his eyes.

  “So tell me, why would he do it?” Jacob asked once again

  “He said that the South had no chance of winning, and that he had no intention of being on the losing side,” replied Henry. “It was as simple as that.”

  “As simple as that,” Jacob repeated, as he remembered the similar conversation he and Miles had. “So what did you say?”

  “We tried to change his mind, but he just wasn’t interested,” Henry replied. “He had made up his mind, and that was that. It made no difference what you said. He was absolutely determined. You know Miles, stubborn, like a mule.”

  Yes he was certainly stubborn, thought Jacob. “I know,” he replied. “That’s what he said to me the other day. We had quite a fight over it.” He rubbed the side of his face as he remembered the fight that accompanied that conversation. His jaw still hurt.

  “I heard about that Jacob,” said Henry. “And I’m really sorry. He should never have fought with you.”

  Jacob shrugged his shoulders. “It wasn’t your fault Henry,” he replied. “It was just a stupid meaningless argument and we just got carried away. We both said things we didn’t mean, we’ll patch it up when we see each other again.”

  “Miles has gone for good, Jacob,” Henry said almost speaking to himself. “We will never see him again.”

  Jacob was stunned. “Nonsense, of course we will Henry,” he said nervously. “Of course we’ll see him again. Once this is all over he’ll be home. It won’t be long you’ll see. I give it six months, a year. No more than that.”

  Henry said nothing, but merely shook his head as he stared into the distance. Jacob placed his hand on Henry arm. “Don’t worry Henry,” he said gently. “It’ll be all right, you’ll see.”

  Henry looked up. “You might be right,” he said unconvinced. “We’ll see.” He paused for a few moments. “What will you do Jacob?”

  Thackery thought for a few moments. “I shall see if I can form our very own group of volunteers, right here in Larksburg. The first Larksburg Volunteers,” he announced proudly. “I have already spoken to the authorities, and they said that I should go ahead.”

  “You will do a very good job Jacob, of that I have no doubt.”

  “They have given me the rank of captain, as a mark of respect for my father.”

  “I can understand that Jacob, and I wholeheartedly agree,” Henry replied. “There are a lot of people who respect and admire your father, myself included.”

  Jacob said nothing. He was beginning to feel a little embarrassed. He looked down at the ground. After what seemed like an eternity, he looked up. “What will you do Henry?” he asked.

  “I have also been given the rank of Captain. I have decided to go to Richmond,” Henry said. “I am going to join Jefferson Davis’ staff. I leave in a few days time.”

  Jacob was impressed. “Well that is some task you are taking on, Henry.” he said. “But I know that you can do it.”

  Henry paused for a few moments. “I think we are all taking on a huge task,” he replied. “I hope that we are all up to it.” He paused once again. Then he held out his hand. “Well I suppose I better get along, Jacob.”

  Jacob stared at the outstretched hand, and suddenly realized that the time had come for them to part. When would they ever meet again? Would they ever meet again? What did the future hold in store for them? He looked up at Henry’s face. There were tears in his eyes. Jacob looked back at the hand and grasped it tightly, with both hands, and shook it enthusiastically. Then he put his hands around Henry’s shoulders and clasped him tightly.

  “I wish you well, Henry,” Jacob said in almost a whisper. “Unknown days lie ahead of us, and who knows where our roads will lead. So until we meet once more, Henry.”

  “You take care of yourself, Jacob,” Henry replied. “Wherever you go, you just come back safe. Do you hear?”

  Jacob shrugged. “You too Henry, take great care.”

  Henry turned to go, and started to walk away. He stopped suddenly and turned around. “Say hello to your father for me, Jacob,” he called out. “And my sincerest regards to your dear mother.” He turned and quickly walked away.

  Thackery watched for a few moments until he had disappeared from sight. Instinctively he knew that they would never meet again.

  * * *

  Three weeks later Jacob Thackery put on his new grey uniform, with the shiny silver buttons. Next he sat down and pulled on the black leather boots. As he did so he noted the silver spurs fitted to the heels. He stood up, and buckled on his shiny leather holster, and placed the revolver inside, carefully securing the buttoned down flap. Next he put on his scabbard, and placed his sword inside, tying the silver blue sash securely around his waist. He tied a yellow scarf around his neck. Finally he put on his white gloves, and picked up his white hat with the feathered plume on one side. Captain Jacob Thackery was ready. He took one last look in the mirror, and then, satisfied, he walked proudly out of the room and down the stairs into the hallway where his mother and father stood waiting.

  Captain Jacob Thackery

  “May 7th 1861 – so the day is finally here. Today I leave my beloved father and my dearest mother. Today I leave my home and go to war. What awaits me I do not know, but whatever it is I shall do my duty because it is right and it is just.”

  The main door was lying wide open, the spring sunlight streaming in. Outside he could see the line of troopers standing to attention, waiting for him. He could hear the cheering from the gathered crowd, and see the multitude of flags fluttering in the light breeze. It was early May 1861, just a few short weeks after those first shots that had been fired on Fort Sumter, the shots that had heralded the war. He and his friends had rushed to join up within a few days. They were proud and ready to defend the South. Now they were ready to march to war. He had been ordered to report to the garrison at Fort Worth.

  He slowly walked over to his parents. His father smiled and held out his hand. Thackery grasped it with both hands and shook it. Then he put his arms around his father. As he stepped back his father suddenly reached over to the hall table and picked up the silver watch that lay there. He held it out towards his son.

  “This was my grandfather’s watch,” he said looking at it. “He gave it to my father, who subsequently gave it to me.” He paused, and looked at his wife, and then to his son. “I now give it to you, to remind you of us, wherever you go, and whatever you do.” He placed the watch into Jacob’s hand.

  Jacob grasped the watch. “Father,” he said. “I need nothing to remind me of you and mother. I could never forget you.” He took a deep breath. “You mean everything to me.” He looked down at the watch, and then at his father. “I will treasure this, as I treasure you as my father.”

  He opened the case, and looked at the lithograph of the young woman inside. He then looked at his mother. The years had passed by, that much was certain, but it was the same person, the same hair, t
he same eyes, the same smile. He walked towards her. She was crying bitterly.

  “Come back to us, son,” she said. “Come back safe.”

  “Don’t worry mother,” he said, placing his arms around her. “There’s nothing to worry about. It will all be over by Christmas, you’ll see.” He kissed her gently on the cheek. “I’ll be home in no time.”

  He put the watch inside his tunic, and put on his hat. He hesitated for a few moments longer, and then quickly walked out of the house. He mounted his horse, and raised his arm.

  “Troop,” he called out. “Mount.”

  He heard the rustle of leather and stirrups, the jangling of the harnesses. He looked behind him. There, seated on their horses, were many of his friends and neighbors. Jess was now the bugle boy; Will Cantwell a Sergeant; Tom Davis a corporal; and towards the rear Brad Craven and Chet Tyler.

  Jacob smiled, and waved at them. They smiled back. The crowd cheered loudly. He turned back to face his parents, and then he raised his arm once more.

  “Troop,” he called out. “Move out.”

  Slowly the column started to move past him. As they did so they started to sing:

  I wish I was in Dixie, Hooray! Hooray!

  In Dixie Land I’ll take my stand

  To live and die in Dixie.

  Away, away, away down south in Dixie.

  Away, away, away down south in Dixie

  As the last man rode past Thackery turned and saluted to his parents. “Don’t forget what I said,” he called out. “Christmas, it will all be over by then.” He smiled and saluted once again, and then rode away.

  His parents stood and watched silently, until he had disappeared from view, and the sound of the singing had died away.

  * * *

  Chapter Six

  May 1861 - Washington

  It had been a long, hot and tiring journey from Cedar Creek. Two days, and three trains later Captain Miles Drew was coming to the end of his journey, Washington Depot was just a few more minutes away. He was fast asleep. In fact he had been asleep for just over four hours, but it had not been a restful sleep. It had been anything but. Thoughts of the ensuing war tumbled over and over in his mind, mingling with memories of that last bitter goodbye with his brother, and the fight he had with his friend a few days earlier. He had gone over the conversations time and time again. At times they had been very heated. At times they had been quite aggressive, and certainly many things had been said that should not have been said, and things had been said that were not really meant.

  * * *

  “So you were right all along, Miles,” said Jacob. “You said that war would come, and here it is. After months and months of talking it is upon us. I must admit I was beginning to wonder if it would ever come to this.”

  Miles shook his head. “Why on earth the South would want to go to war is beyond me,” he replied. “Stupidity, there is no other word for it.”

  “But Miles it’s a just cause,” Jacob suggested, a broad smile on his face.

  “Just cause indeed,” replied Miles, waving his hand in the air. “Do you really believe that? What is so just about going to war? What possible justification is there?”

  Jacob could not believe what he was hearing. Of course it was just to defend your beliefs, your principles. Wasn’t their way of life worth defending? Honor was worth fighting for wasn’t it?

  “The South is neither able for war, nor ready for what is to come. People will die, many people,” Miles continued. “Many others will be maimed. Is that what you want?”

  Of course that wasn’t what Jacob wanted. Why would Miles even think such a thing? “We have to defend our …”

  “You have no idea do you Jacob, none whatsoever,” Miles interrupted. “This is all some kind of a big game to you, and Will Cantwell, and Tom Davis, and all of them others, just a big game. To you it’s a bit of fun, an opportunity to put on some kind of a show. Just put on a shiny new uniform, get a rifle and start marching up and down, band playing a rousing tune, flags flying, and people cheering.”

  “I don’t consider it a game Miles, or a show,” Jacob replied indignantly. “It’s a matter of principle ….”

  “Principle my eye,” Miles interrupted once again. “The South cannot possibly win this war, you do realize that don’t you? They haven’t the slightest chance. The South will lose, and lose badly. So much for principle, is it really worth dying for?”

  Jacob was stunned for a moment. The South not win, that was unheard of. Of course they would win, right was on their side wasn’t it? They couldn’t possibly lose.

  “The South will be crushed, mark my words,” Miles said quite simply. “And your so-called just cause, your principles, will all be tossed aside like fallen leaves blowing in the wind. The South will be no more than a faded memory. All your hopes and dreams will be shattered like a broken mirror. The South you know will cease to exist.”

  Jacob shook his head. This made no sense at all. His friend was talking nonsense. He couldn’t really believe what he was saying. “Miles you cannot possibly mean that,” he said, placing his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “The South will win you’ll see, it’ll be fine.”

  Miles shook the hand away. “The South will lose I tell you,” he repeated. “And thousands of young men will die, needlessly.”

  “No, that can’t be right, “Jacob said nervously. “A few months and it will all be over. The North won’t even fight. It will all be settled without a shot being fired. Nobody will get killed.”

  “The North will fight Jacob, make no mistake,” Miles replied. “They will fight as never before, and this Country will be awash with blood from both sides. And a bitter taste will be left for years to come. Not only will it divide the Country, but it will split father and son; brother and brother.”

  “You can’t really mean that,” said Jacob.

  “I mean it,” Miles replied. “It’s already happening, people are taking sides, you’ll see.”

  “Well I shall certainly enlist to do my duty for the South,” Jacob replied, his head held high. “First opportunity I get.”

  “Not me,” said Miles. “I shall go north and join the Union army.”

  “You can’t do that,” said Jacob, beginning to get agitated. “You can’t join the enemy.”

  “I’m joining the Union army,” Miles repeated. “I’ve absolutely no intention of being on the losing side.”

  “Traitor,” yelled Jacob without thinking.

  Miles looked down at the floor, and heaved a deep sigh. Then he looked up. “Jacob you know me,” he said quite slowly. “I’m no traitor …..”

  “I said traitor, and I mean traitor,” replied Jacob angrily. “You are a traitor and a coward. You are no friend of mine.” Then forming his right hand into a fist he swung his right arm with every ounce of strength he could muster, and struck Miles’ on the jaw.

  Miles staggered, but managed to retain his balance. He looked at Jacob for a few moments, and then hit him hard in the chest, then struck another blow this time to his face. Jacob fell to the floor, un-conscious. Miles looked at him for a few moments, and then without another word he walked away.

  * * *

  Captain Miles Drew

  Miles took a deep breath. He was no traitor, nor a coward. He was a realist. He knew that the South had no chance of winning this war. It was madness to even think that it was possible. His conversation with Jacob had been senseless, and it should have been stopped before it had got out of hand. Certainly he should never have fought with his long time friend. That was unforgivable. Why they had known each other for such a long time. They were almost like brothers. But it had been Jacob who had thrown the first blow. He had merely defended himself. What else could he do?

  It was all too late now anyway. They had argued, and they had fought. Words could not be un-said, actions could not be un-done. He wished that he could turn back the clock, but he couldn’t. That was bad enough. Far worse though, he knew that things would never b
e the same again between them, and there would be no reconciliation. The war had divided the country just has he had predicted, it had divided communities, and it had divided families. And it had turned life-long friends into bitter enemies.

  * * *

  Miles awoke with a start at the sound of the locomotive bell clanging loudly, as the train approached the depot. It was raining quite heavily, and a cold wind was blowing from the east. He looked out of the window for a few moments, as the rain beat loudly on to the glass. He felt cold, and reached for his great coat, wrapping it tightly around his body. He then took down his baggage from the overhead rack, and placed it onto the seat next to him.

  There was a loud hiss of steam, followed by the screeching of the wheels gripping the rails as the brakes were applied. Slowly the train shuddered to a halt. A moment later, Miles stepped down on to the platform.

  Washington Depot

  He slowly looked around. He had almost forgotten how impressive the Italian style depot was. A massive, four-sided clock tower, one hundred feet high, dominated the brick, stucco, and brownstone structure. He looked up at the clock tower. It was just after three o’clock. Just over two hours late. He looked back along the platform and then made his way into the main passenger hallway, past the ticket office, and out into the street.

  “Miles,” a voice called out, as he emerged from the building. “Miles is that you?”

  Miles turned to face the voice. “Clive,” he called back enthusiastically. “Oh Clive, it’s so good to see you.”

  Clive Morrison hurried to where Miles was waiting, a big beaming smile on his face. “It’s been a long while,” he replied.

  “It certainly has,” said Miles. “What is it seven or eight years? You know you haven’t changed a bit.”

  Clive wiped the sweat from his brow. “Come on now, no fooling. I’ve certainly changed. I’m not as fit as I used to be. Short of breath sometimes and a bit unsteady on the old legs you know. The years haven’t been kind I’m afraid. Oh and it’s eight years by the way.”