by Larry Hunt
CHAPTER THIREEN
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 grandfather Thomas had granted them their freedom when he inherited Scarlett. Luke was young, but he believed all men should be free. His involvement in this War Between the States wasn’t a fight against freeing the slaves, but the fight for states rights. He believed the states of the South, especially Alabama, ought to able to govern themselves. If the people in the states wanted slavery that was fine by him, but if they decided they did not want to keep slaves that was okay too. He was southern and would fight the South’s fight, but in his heart he really did not believe in slavery.
A 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 prisoner collection point near the Federal supply wagons in the rear.
A voice, from the seat of one of the supply wagons, speaks to the officer-in-charge. “Captain,” the voice says, “I knows that man,” the voice says referring to Luke, 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 says slapping 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 feller. He’s from a good family. His grandpappy freed me and all the slaves on the plantation long afore the War...he’s a good’ern, I’s 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 anyways!”
“Jump up here ons this here wagon Master Luke! You be my slave now!”
Without hesitation, Luke takes one stride, steps upon the hub of the wagon wheel, and with one bound is sitting next to a black man about his age. The driver has 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’. She gave him that handsome name as she called it; however Sary was barely just able to read and write so she only 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 Thomas, Robert’s father, inherited Scarlett, he freed all the slaves, but they had to have a family name. They decided to use the name ‘Scarburg’ on their Certificates of Freedom or Free Papers as the blacks called them.
Slapping the leather reins against the mule’s flanks, Nate pulls the wagon out of the long line of Union supply wagons. He begins moving in a direction opposite to General Meade’s wagon train of supplies, wounded and prisoners.
Nate has a plan. Thousands of dead lie scattered about on the field. Burying them is going to be a tremendous task, the Army will be moving out shortly, so most if not all the dead will 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 shakes his head, he realizes the odds of a wounded man surviving bullets from a musket or cannonball shrapnel are slim. Even if they didn’t die immediately, without immediate medical aid the chance of survival is small.
As the wagon continues to move slowly among the mangled remains of man’s savagery, he passes a large group of dead Rebel soldiers. Nate has an idea. “Luke you git out there ands you lay down next to one of thems ‘somebody’s dead darlin’s’. 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 killed men, and Luke can then jump into the back of his wagon. Nate will get a Yankee blue jacket to match Luke’s blue breeches he was already wearing. Then Luke can ride up front on the wagon seat thus allowing him 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 supply 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 hoists a couple of the severely wounded Yanks into his wagon. At the same time, Luke, now wearing a blue Yankee jacket, a pair of yellow suspenders and a yellow bandana tied around his neck, slips into the wagon also.
Luke, now appearing to be a common Federal cavalry soldier, continues helping Nate load wounded men in 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 fifteen 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 soon after the long three days of fighting.
It is a known fact the nitrates and sulfur from the tremendous amount of smoke generated by the cannons and muskets, rise in to the air, condense on the minute particle of dust and moisture causing the torrential rains. This rain phenomenon occurs at practically every major battles of the Civil War – Gettysburg is no exception.
Adding to the misery is the absence of suspension springs on the ambulance wagons. Each mud hole the wheels strike brings excruciating pain and additional suffering to the wounded. General Meade’s headquarters has ordered the wagon train to Frederick, Maryland as soon as possible – they have orders not to stop. This terrible pace ensures the war-weary wagons are apt to break down. Those wagons that become disabled are abandoned beside the road, as are 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 are currently plaguing 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 six thousand of General Meade’s men have enlistments, which have expired. Once they reached Frederick they are entitled to be discharged and go home, and they intend to do just that. Home is to live the battlefield is to die.
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 papers are inside his breast pocket. Use them he says to Luke. He knows his injury is fatal and tells Luke he has seen his beautiful wife and children for the last time. Luke feels sorry for the dying man, but crams the blood soaked paper into his pocket without looking at the soldier’s name or unit.
The Yankee wagon train reaches Frederick, Maryland without incident. The muleskinners lineup the wagons, and the injured and dead soldiers are unloaded. As the mules are unhitched Nate pulls Luke aside.
“Master Luke...”
“Please, Nate, just Luke, you are
a free man.”
“Yes Master Luke, I means Luke...take that discharge paper you gets from that there dead man down yonder to that musterin’ out officer and git yerself outta here and git on home to Alabam’. Say howdy to my Pa, Ma, and brother Jefferson when you sees ’em. Tells ’em I’s fine, I jest don’t like workin’ for these blue-bellies, but tell ’em I ain’t got no choice.”
Standing in a long line outside the Federal Discharge tent Luke tries to appear inconspicuous. His clothes are Yankee blue, but his heart is Rebel gray. He tries not to talk with any of the other soldiers standing in line awaiting their discharge. This isn’t too hard since the other Yankee soldiers are not interested in talking. They, like Luke, are only interested in getting out of this man’s Army and returning to their families.
“Next!” Announced Captain Armstrong. The Yankee captain issuing the command sits at a table in the middle of the tent but does not bother to look 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 Sir,” Luke answers, trying hard to mask his Southern accent, “but it’s not my blood, one of those gray-backs didn’t die quick enough.”
“Says here you’re in the Iron Brigade, what unit?”
The question catches Luke by surprise. He has no idea what unit is written on the discharge 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 impressed states, “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 has been a while since I signed my enlistment paper.”
Captain Armstrong looked at the paper carefully. “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 inkwell 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 you’re wrong!” Luke protests.
“You made a couple of mistakes Reb, only the 2nd, 6th and 7th Wisconsin, the 19th Indiana and the 4th Michigan make up the Iron Brigade. The 3rd Illinois isn’t one of them you ignorant gray-back. Another thing, ‘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 Phi Beta 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. The fob was 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, you know I should take you out,, tie you to the nearest tree and have you shot as a spy”, the captain said; however, knowing Luke was a brother Phi Beta Kappa, he added, “But, I’m sure you are only wearing our blue uniform because the South’s Army doesn’t have sufficient clothing to keep every Confederate equipped. Isn’t that right Reb?” Before Luke could answer, “Corporal, take him to the prisoner’s yard, remove our uniform, supply him with some rebel clothing 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 the Captain whispers into Luke’s ear, “But my Rebel Kappa Brother, you were not shot as a spy as you should have been, and you are, at least still alive!”