Chapter Twelve
PRISONERS OF WAR
Sergeant Scarburg remained at Doctor Letterman’s Hospital for a few days. Day by day his condition improved due in large part from the constant care he received from Miss Barton or one of her attendants. Miss Barton had found a scrap of paper in Robert’s pocket. It was his promotion orders to Sergeant. She could read the name ‘Robert Scarburg, Sergeant, 48th Alabama Infantry.’ He was glad to know WHO he was, but his memory was still foggy; however, it was slowly beginning to return.
One hot day an orderly entered the hospital tent and yells, “Attention to Orders!” He begins to read the names of the Confederate prisoners that are to be transferred.
“Private Johnny Adams, Private William Bates, Private Benjamin Dunway...” he continued calling out names until he got to the “S” names – Sergeant Robert Scarburg,” Robert did not hear the rest of the names the orderly calls out. He knew this day would come, he just did not think it would be this quick. At least he now knew for certain his name!
Private Benjamin Dunway occupies the bunk next to Robert. Ben was of McLaw’s 10th Georgia Infantry. During Pickett’s Charge, Ben’s 10th was on the left of Luke and Matthew’s 48th Alabama. Before the war, Ben worked for the Consolidated Mining Company in a small town in the hills of northern Georgia named Dahlonega. He was raised in the backcountry with little or no formal education, but he had a heart as big as his six-foot six-inch frame. He has already been in the Army almost two years even though he is only twenty years old. He suffered a shoulder wound and he like Robert was captured on the 2nd day of fighting, Robert at Devil’s Den and Ben at the Wheat Field. During their stay in the hospital tent, Ben and Robert become friends. Due to their age differences, Ben looked upon Robert as a father figure.
Robert and Ben spend most of the day talking. They are not allowed out of their tent. Ben recalls the various battles his Company and Robert’s have been in, Ben talks and Robert listens. But the conversation always returns to home, well at least Ben speaks of his home. Robert did vaguely remember his Grandmother telling him the story of the Battle of Scarburg Mill. The blow to his head affected his short-term memory, but his long-term was getting better by the day. He especially remembered the name Dahlonega when Ben mentioned it. She had told of the two Revolutionary War wagons, which had been bound from Ben’s hometown of Dahlonega to the Armies of General Washington.
Remembering this, Robert asks Ben if he might know what the wagons would have been carrying eighty-two years earlier. Ben answers quickly – gold! If they left Dahlonega fully loaded, they must have been carrying hundreds of pounds of pure gold. It had to be gold; Dahlonega had nothing else worth transporting anywhere. The gold ore is removed from the mines, sent to the smelter, and after melting the gold is poured into 24 carat gold bars weighing 27.5 lbs each. Robert is stunned as he hears this – gold! The wagons must have been carrying gold! His Grandmother had not told him much, those days were hard for her since she had watched the British hang her husband and Robert’s grandfather. She did tell of the two wagons that were burned at the Scarburg Mill. She had talked a little about his grandfather Pappy’s Masonic Lodge and his Bible, but he was young and those things did not seem important to him at the time. His grandmother did not mention the word gold. He never envisioned two wagons full of gold BARS! Somehow the numbers 2K168 were important too, but he did not know what they meant and his grandmother never explained them either. Robert had figured if he died his sons should know the ‘numbers,’ whatever they meant, maybe someone would figure it out someday, but he thought a mill, a House of the Lord, the Bible, Masons and gold how did all this tie together? Or was there even a connection?
Chapter Thirteen
TRASH, REBEL TRASH
Luke had been born in South Carolina before the Scarburg family left Scarlett and moved to the pioneer homestead in the newly settled country of north Alabama. He had heard the family speak of the slaves, but he knew his father Robert had granted them their freedom when he inherited Scarlett. He was young, but he believed all men should be free, and his involvement in this War Between the States wasn’t a fight against slave freedom, but the fight for states rights, the rights for the states of the South, especially Alabama to govern themselves.
The Yankee Captain pushed Luke into the mass of Rebel prisoners on the backside of Cemetery Ridge, in the rear of the Federal lines. Luke is unsure what is to happen next after his capture during Pickett’s Charge. He along with hundreds of other Rebels is being herded from the battlefield to a collection point near the Federal supply line in the rear.
A voice, from the seat of the supply wagon, speaks to the officer-in-charge, “Captain, I knows that man – he’s name is Scarburg – I worked fer his Pappy on his plantation in Carolinny.”
“Shut up you black field hand, this here Johnny Reb’s plantation days are over,” the Captain slaps Luke across the face with his gloved hand. “Trash, Rebel trash!” Slapping Luke again the Captain cuts a large gash across his cheek, which bleeds profusely, but doesn’t seem to be too serious.
“Beggin’ the Captain’s pardon, Sir, but I’s knows this here fellow...his Pappy sets me and my family freed on the Plantation...he’s a good’ern, I’m a tellin’ you Captain!”
“All right Blackie, he’s yours since you love’em so much. You and the rest of the blacks have the dead to bury, make him do it too – he probably killed a lot of those boys anyway!”
“Jump up here ons this here wagon Master Luke! You be my slave now!”
Without hesitation, Luke takes one stride, steps upon the wagon wheel, and with one bound is sitting next to a black man about his age with a black slouch hat pulled low over his eyes.
“Nate? Is that you? I didn’t recognize you...what are...?”
“Hush up Luke, don’t sez another word, we’s got to get outta here, and I means fast.”
Nate was one of Luke’s best childhood friends. Nate’s family came with the Scarburg family to Alabama, but Nate had already married and left Scarlett by the time the Scarburgs decided to move. When Sary’s first son was born she loved the name ‘Nathaniel’, and gave him that handsome name as she called it, but Sary being barely able to read and write simply called him ‘Nate.’ She only used ‘Nathaniel’ when he needed discipline, or she was angry. As slaves, Sary’s family had no surname everyone only had a Christian name. When Robert inherited Scarlett all the slaves had to have a surname. A full name was required on the Certificate of Freedom, they all agreed to use ‘Scarburg.’
Slapping the leather reins against the mule’s flanks Nate pulled the wagon out of the long line of Union supply wagons and began moving in a direction opposite to General Meade’s wagon train of supplies.
Nate had a plan. Thousands of dead lay on the field, burying them was going to be a tremendous task, the Army would be moving out shortly so most if not all the dead would lie where they died.
Moving among the dead and wounded Luke asks, “Nate have you seen anything of Father or Matthew? I know they both were wounded, but I’ve heard nothing of them.” Without looking at Luke Nate shook his head, he realized the odds of wounded men surviving musket bullets or cannonball shrapnel were slim. Even if they didn’t die immediately, without immediate first-aid the chance of survival was small.
As the wagon continues to move slowly among the mangled remains of man’s savagery, he notices a large group of dead Rebel soldiers. Nate has an idea. “Luke you git out there ands you lie close to ones of thems ‘somebody’s darlin’s’ and you pretend to be dead too.” Nate explains as General Meade’s Federal troops withdraw from the field of battle, Nate will stop by the pile of dead men, Luke can then jump into the back of his wagon. Nate will get a Yankee blue jacket to match Luke’s blue breeches he is already wearing. Then they can both ride up front on the wagon seat. Allowing Luke to blend in with the rest of the blue-bellied Yanks.
Later, as Nate expects, the order is given for the Army of the Potomac to withdraw. The s
upply train is ordered to load as many wounded men as they can hold and follow the thousands of Yankee soldiers as the Army pursues General Lee and his Confederates. Nate stops his wagon next to a group of dead Confederates and wounded Federals. He hoisted a couple of the severely wounded Yanks into his wagon. At the same time, Luke, wearing a blue Yankee jacket, a pair of white suspenders and a yellow bandana tied around his neck, slips into the wagon also.
Luke, now appearing to be a common Federal calvary soldier, continues helping Nate load wounded men into the rear of their wagon. Once loaded they line up in the wagon train with hundreds of other identical looking white canvas covered Conestoga-style wagons. This line of wagons extends 10–15 miles along the winding, dirt roads that lead away from Gettysburg. It takes most of the day getting the escorts ready, packing the supplies, loading and trying to identify the wounded. The trip causes extreme hardship to the critically injured men lying on the hard wagon beds. The roads are rough and slick with mud from the torrential rains that began after the long three days of fighting.
Scientists say the nitrates and sulfur from the tremendous amount of smoke generated by the cannons and muskets, rise into the air, condenses on the minute particle of moisture causing the torrential rains. This rain phenomenon occurs at practically all-major battles of the Civil War – Gettysburg is no exception.
Adding to the wounded’s misery is the absence of any type of suspension on the ambulance wagons. Each mud hole brings excruciating pain and additional suffering to the wounded. General Meade’s headquarters has ordered the wagon train to get to Frederick, Maryland as soon as possible – they have orders not to stop. This terrible pace insures the war-weary wagons are apt to break down – those that did become disabled are left beside the road, as are some of the critically injured. The Army of the Potomac does not have enough surgeons to help all the injured; therefore, the thought is local citizens might offer the wounded more help than the Army can provide.
A condition that persisted during the war, the departure of men and regiments whose enlistments have expired, plague Meade’s army. The termination of enlistments takes effect even in the midst of an active campaign. The departure of the Army from Gettysburg is no different. Approximately 6,000 men of the Union’s enlistments have run out and once they reached Frederick they are entitled to be discharged and go home, and they intend to, home is safety, the battlefield is death.
While loading the wounded into their wagon, one critically injured Yankee, not realizing Luke is a Confederate, whispers to Luke about his discharge paper. He tells Luke his release document is inside his breast pocket. Use it he says to Luke. He knew his injury was fatal, and tells Luke he saw his beautiful wife and children for the last time. Luke feels sorry for the dying man, but crams the blood soaked paper into his own pocket without looking at the soldier’s name or unit.
The Yankee wagon train reaches Frederick, Maryland without incident. The wagons are positioned, the injured and dead soldiers are unloaded, and as the mules are un-hitched Nate pulls Luke aside.
“Mister Luke...”
“Please, Nate, just Luke, you are a free man.”
“Yes Mister Luke, I means Luke...take that paper you gets from that there dead man down yonder to that musterin’ out officer and git yerself outta here and go home to ‘Bamma. Say howdy to my Pa, Ma and brother. Tells’em I’m fine, I jest don’t like workin’ for the blue-bellies, but I ain’t got no choice.”
Standing in a long line outside the Federal Discharge Officer’s tent Luke tries to appear inconspicuous. His clothes are Yankee blue, but his heart is Rebel grey. He tries not to talk with any of the other soldiers standing in line awaiting their discharge, but that isn’t too hard they are not interested in talking, they, like Luke, are only interested in getting out of the Army and returning to their families.
“Next!” Announced Captain Armstrong sitting at a table in the middle of the tent without looking up.
Stepping to the camp table Luke hands the Yankee Captain the dead man’s discharge certificate. Captain Armstrong takes the paper from Luke using his thumb and index finger only, “Did you have to bleed all over it?”
“Sorry,” Luke answers, trying hard to mask his Southern accent, “but it’s not my blood, one of those grey-backs didn’t die quick enough.”
“Says here you’re in the Iron Brigade, what unit?”
This catches Luke by surprise. He has no idea what unit is written on the piece of paper, and for sure he has never heard of the Iron Brigade.
The Iron Brigade received its name during the Battle of Turner’s Gap. Major General McClellan asked, “What troops are those beating back the Rebs?” The answer, “General Gibbon’s Brigade of Western men.” McClellan stated, “They must be made of iron!” Other stories tell of it origin, but the men immediately adopted the name – the Iron Brigade.
“Been in a couple of hard battles since signing up, couple of fights our units got cut up pretty bad and I’ve been switched from unit to unit a lot. It’s been a while since I signed that scrap of paper.”
Captain Armstrong looked at the paper closer. “Also says here you enlisted in the Company ‘C,’ 3rd Illinois, that about right?”
Sounds pretty good to Luke, so he nods his head, “Yeah that’s right.”
“Your name is Private Judson H. Bouchard? Well, Private Bouchard,” thrusting a sign-out sheet toward Luke, “Sign right here, and you will not be in the Federal Army any longer.”
Taking pen in hand Luke dips the tip into the ink well and signs, ‘Private Judson H. Boochard.’
Turning to the Corporal standing guard at the tent’s entrance the Captain orders, “Arrest this man Corporal he’s a spy!”
“No! No your wrong!” Luke protested.
“You made a couple of mistakes Reb, only the 2nd, 6th and 7th Wisconsin, the 19th Indiana and the 4th Michigan makeup the Iron Brigade, the 3rd Illinois isn’t one of them and you ignorant grey-back, ‘Bouchard’ is not spelled ‘Boochard’.”
“Pardon me Captain, I may not know how to spell the name Bouchard, but I assure you I am far from ignorant – I was a member of Kappa from the College of William and Mary class of 1854.”
“I see,” said the Captain taking out his gold pocket watch as if to check the time. Luke couldn’t help but notice his watch fob - a golden key engraved with the image of a pointing finger, three stars, and the Greek letters from which the society takes its name – Phi Beta Kappa. He could read ‘Harvard-1856’ engraved on the bottom edge.
Reaching across the table, Captain Armstrong extends his right hand Luke does likewise. Each shake the other’s hand with the thumbs extended skyward – the secret handshake of the Phi Beta Kappa society. “Reb, I should take you out to the nearest tree and string you up, but I’m sure you are only wearing our blue uniform because your Army doesn’t have sufficient clothing to keep every Confederate equipped. Corporal, take him to the prisoner’s yard, remove our uniform, supply him with some clothes and confine him. Get a doctor to check out those cuts on his face too, we’ve got an ambulance train of wagons going south pretty soon, make sure my Secesh friend here is on it!”
Luke’s arm is grabbed by the Yankee corporal, but before he can leave the tent, Captain Armstrong said, “I didn’t lie; you are no longer in the Federal Army! You’re now going to be a prisoner of the Federal Army!” Standing and walking close he whispers into Luke’s ear, “But my Brother Reb, you are still alive!”
Chapter Fourteen
MOVING SOUTH
A Yankee soldier walks up and down the rows of hospital bunks jabbing the Confederates lying on the beds with the end of his musket. “Git outta them sacks, you Rebs are gittin’ moved!”
Sergeant Scarburg and Private Dunway need further encouragement they are still lying on their bunks. They have been in the Army long enough to know the old soldier’s refrain, ‘always wait until the last minute before doing anything.’ The daily routine with the army was a constant hurry up and wait endeavor
. They do not think this move order will be any different. Robert’s stab wound is healing nicely, but any quick exertion causes him excruciating pain, so he has to move slowly. His memory has not returned completely, but he can remember most facts.
“Robert, whar do you thank they is gonna send us?”
“ I don’t know Ben, but ever since we arrived I’ve been givin’ it some thought, and I remembered a few things. I reckon we will go to Elmira, New York or maybe to the Old Capitol Prison in Washington. Both of them are pretty close.”
Ben starts to reply, but soldiers begin pushing the rebel prisoners out of their tent into dozens and dozens of Union wagons. Each wagon is covered with a white canvas with the letters U.S painted on the side.
Ben stayed close behind Robert as they crawl into the wagon. They sat on the floor; no sideboard seats are in these transports. The roads they travel have not improved since Robert last rode in one on his way to the hospital; in fact, he believes they have gotten worse. The men in the wagons are bounced from side to side. Those with partially healed wounds begin to ooze blood and it begins trickling out of their bandages collecting on the floor. Cries of pain and anguish go unanswered. The drivers will not acknowledge their passengers.
All day they travel toward an unknown destination. At one point, Sergeant Scarburg looks out the rear of the wagon they are traveling south.
“Ben we are going south, we must be bound for Old Capitol Prison. If we don’t get there soon, I believe I am going to bleed to death.”
Over the loud sound of the wagon wheels and the shouts of the drivers barking orders to the mules, Robert and Ben talk about the prison to which they think they are headed. Robert explains the prison near Washington isn’t going to be too bad. He has heard all the prisoners are housed inside a building, the food is adequate, the inmates are supplied with decent clothing, and they are allowed to send and receive mail regularly. All in all, Sergeant Scarburg thinks Ben and he at last are about to receive a little bit of good luck. He tells Ben they can sit the War out there in relative comfort. If luck smiles on them, it is possible they could be exchanged for Yankee prisoners. He explains one rebel private is usually exchanged for one Yankee, and a rebel sergeant is worth two Yankee prisoners, so both of them are worth three Yankee prisoners. Robert thinks their odds are good to be exchanged. Not much, during the past few weeks, has offered them much hope, but now their spirits are being raised, if only he could remember his family.
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