Over the river—over the Long Bridge—over into Dixie—over the Chain Bridge—so they go, one steady stream of staunch men in serried columns, bristling with bayonets, rumbling with heavy or light batteries, clanking with sabers; and still they come—the morning sun finds but the debris of the camp of the evening before, and the same sun sets upon the same spot, a busy camp of fresh troops hurrying up and down the streets of their canvas city, like the shadowy figures in some shifting panorama. The Roundhead Regiment has lain four weeks on the heights of the Kalorama, and it is by three weeks the oldest settler to day. Its turn must come, we know not at what hour, but the hour will find us ready to “strike our tents and march away,” leaving our “beautiful view” to be enjoyed by some younger brothers of the bayonet and sabre.
October, however, opened with a series of rapid changes. On Wednesday, Colonel Leasure called the regiment together and read them a letter from Gov. Curtin, recognizing them as the One Hundredth Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry Regiment. The campground echoed with cheers. And as Sergeant Fisher had predicted, a bag of insignia circulated, each man drawing the brass number that would identify his unit.
“It’s about time,” somebody mumbled.
“Yeah, but they’re nice-looking badges,” someone else offered.
“So who are we now, Roundheads or One Hundredth Pennsylvanians?
“Both, I suspect. We have an official designation on our hats and a nickname in our hearts. I’ll bet it’s the nickname that sticks.”
In the days that followed, other supplies flowed into the Roundhead camp, signaling an approaching move. Men who were still missing parts of their uniforms filled out their needs. Ammunition boxes replaced the shells used up in target practice. Although the weather was still warm enough to allow the men to go swimming in Rock Creek, they received their long-awaited overcoats and extra blankets.
“Must mean we’re headed somewheres cold.”
“Nah, means winter’s comin’.”
“And we’re headed out to meet it, I’ll bet.”
On Saturday, the arrival of an army major carrying a case full of official-looking papers set the rumor mills into overtime. In the evening Colonel Leasure announced the regiment had received its marching orders, and the men should begin to pack their gear. “I can’t tell you more than that right now,” he continued, “but you should be ready to march at a moment’s notice.”
Private James Stevenson, from his vantage point near the colonel’s tent, confided in his diary: “Some think we are going to Missouri, some to Kentucky, some to North Carolina—but it is all guesswork. No one, not even the officers, know ‘where’ or ‘when’.”
Nellie was so busy organizing the medical wagon that she had little time to think about where they might be headed. On Wednesday evening the colonel announced that the men were to strike their tents at 4 a.m. the next morning. Then, to her surprise, the colonel sent his aide-de-camp to summon Nellie to his tent.
“You sent for me, Sir?” she asked as she hesitated at the edge of the tent flap.
“Yes, Nellie. Come in, please. Have a seat here at the table. I’m clearing up the last of our paper work, and I realized you had never completed your enlistment procedure. We need to take care of that before we move out.”
“Enlistment? No, Sir. I told you I was a volunteer. I’m here to help in any way I can, but I’m not going to sign up.”
“But you don’t get paid if your paperwork is not in order, Mrs. Leath.”
Nellie did not miss the change in the way he addressed her, nor did she misinterpret the sudden coolness in the tone of his voice. “I’m not asking to be paid, Colonel. I’m a pure volunteer.”
“There’s no place in this man’s army for a pure volunteer. You will be a member of the regiment or be viewed as a camp-follower, a hanger-on, subject to dismissal at any moment. You’ll have no real position, no authority, and no pension.” He tossed the pen down with an exasperated sigh.
“I won’t sign that paper, Sir. You may dismiss me if you like. Should I leave the camp?”
“No, but this discussion is not over. I don’t have time to argue with you any more. You may travel along with us if you choose, but when we are settled, we’ll have to revisit this matter.” Leasure waved her away.
“I won’t change my mind,” she countered over her shoulder as she left.
“Well, maybe something will change it for you.”
ggg
6
On To Annapolis
In the midst of the pre-dawn bustle, Nellie looked around one last time for a glimpse of her little cat, but he was nowhere to be found, perhaps driven into hiding by the commotion all around him. As the regiment finally moved out around 8 a.m., Nellie rode with the driver of the medical wagon. Looking back at the mansion where she had found peace, she whispered a private salute. Good-bye, Oliver. Thank you for being my friend. Good hunting, and stay well. It had begun to drizzle, and Nellie brushed away the moisture on her cheeks, telling herself it was caused by raindrops, not tears.
Despite the rain, the Roundheads moved out at a brisk pace, seemingly eager to get to whatever awaited them. As they passed the White House, President Lincoln himself came out onto the portico and saluted them. The soldiers executed a perfect “Eyes Right” and saluted their president. Then they headed for the train depot with renewed pride and dedication.
“He smiled at us,” one soldier declared in admiration.
“Nah, probably got a cold raindrop down his neck. The man’s too busy to take time to smile at a bunch of recruits from the hills of Pennsylvania.”
“I’m sure he smiled!”
But no one had much to grin about the rest of the day. After a long-delayed breakfast, the men were ready to board a train—any train—and get on with the action. Colonel Leasure moved from company to company, answering questions as best he could and trying to quell the rumors that kept outpacing him.
“Sir, is it true there’s fighting on down the track?”
“Yeah, we heard the track’s all tore up and we can’t get anywheres.”
“Why don’t we march on?”
“Oh, sure, and get caught up in a fight we didn’t start!”
“Better’n sittin’ here.”
“Quiet!” the colonel said. “As far as I know there’s no fighting near by. But those who know this area feel it’s safer to transport large units after dark, so we’ll delay here until our train arrives this evening. You may, if you like, go out and explore the neighborhood a bit. There’s probably even enough time for a jaunt downtown if there’s something you need. But be sure to be back here for roll call before dark.”
“Where are we headed, Colonel? Have they told you that yet?”
“I know our train is to take us to Annapolis, where we will stage with other regiments for a major expedition. I don’t know our final destination.”
“Annapolis! Ain’t that a Navy base?”
“That’s where they train naval cadets, I think. Is that what they’re gonna do with us?”
“Hey, I didn’t sign up for the Navy. I get sick on boats.”
“The Naval Academy is now being used as an Army fort,” the colonel explained. “The naval commandant moved the cadets out to a place further north where they’d be safely out of the way of the action. We’ll have the advantage of moving into their quarters while we wait for our own deployment. Annapolis is also the state capital of Maryland, so it’s a bustling place.”
“Probably full of Secesh-folk, if it’s anything like Baltimore!”
“All the more reason to maintain a strong Union presence in the area.”
“I still don’t want to find myself in the Navy!”
“Well, it’s a pretty safe bet we’re going to be spending some time on the water. But in the meantime, you’ll have a chance to relax. They say the harbor there on Chesapeake Bay is one of the most beautiful spots on earth.”
“Huh! I don’t mind looking at water, as long as there’s f
irm land under my feet. It’s them boat decks that bother me.”
When Nellie grew tired of listening to the grumbling, she withdrew to the way station, where the women who were cooking for the troops showed her a quiet spot in their cloakroom. She had drifted off into a deep sleep, curled up in a chair whose high back provided a headrest.
Doctor Ludington found her there in the evening and shook her awake. “Nellie! Come on! Wake up!”
It took her a few moments to regain her bearings. “What is it? Are we leaving?”
“No, not yet. We’ve got a problem in Company B, and I need your help.”
Now fully awake, she looked at his serious expression with growing concern. “Someone’s hurt?”
“We have a sick soldier—high fever, stomach cramps, and the beginnings of a flat red rash.”
“Measles again?”
“Worse. I think he’s got typhoid.”
“Oh, no,” she murmured. They had already lost one soldier to typhoid fever back in camp at Kalorama, so she understood the prognosis. “He’ll have to be left behind.”
“We can’t do that. There are no medical facilities near the station, and if we leave him, he’ll die for sure.”
“So what do you want me to do?”
“I’m going to put him in the back of the officer’s railcar, somewhat isolated from the others. I need you to ride with him. Keep him sponged off with cool water, so the fever stays under control, and see if you can help him drink something. Beyond that, about all you can do is keep him talking, so he doesn’t slip away from us. It’ll comfort him to have a woman with him.”
Annapolis lay only thirty-four miles from Washington, but to the Roundheads, it might as well have been three hundred miles. The tracks were undergoing repair, so the train made frequent stops. Sometimes there was a train coming the other way, and they were forced to back up for miles to find a switch. Even when the way was clear, the engineer had to move slowly, keeping a lookout for damage along the right-of-way. Few of the soldiers got much sleep that night. Some climbed to the top of the cars to get some air, only to be driven back by sudden rain squalls. Others jumped off when they spotted an apple orchard or unharvested corn field, where they could forage for something to eat. And some got off whenever the train backed up.
“Been there before,” one man mumbled. “Might as well see what’s new waiting for us.” He walked ahead, knowing he could pull himself back aboard when the crawling train caught up. It didn’t get him there any faster, but it was something to do.
Nellie made her patient, Corporal Billy Sample, as comfortable as she could on the hard wooden benches. To distract him, Nellie cast about for topics of conversation.
“Did you have a pet when you were growing up?” she asked.
“Still do.” The soldier made a good effort at smiling. “Big ole’ huntin’ dog named Charlie. He’s a good’un. Smells a ‘coon up a tree from a mile off.”
“Do you miss him?”
“You bet! Seems like Charlie’s always been my best friend. When I was a gangly kid, he was the only one in the whole family who didn’t make fun of my pimply face and clumsy feet. Charlie’d just smile that goofy, tongue-dangling smile of his. And if I wanted to read a book instead of going hunting, he’d sit with his head on my knee and wait till I was through.”
“So you’re a reader! And what did you like to read, Corporal?”
“Anything I could get my hands on. We had a book of Shakespeare I plumb wore out. Charlie didn’t understand much of it when I’d read it out to him, but he seemed to like the sound of the words. That’s what I mean by him being a good dog. How about you? Did you have pets as a kid?”
“No, not really. We lived on a farm. But Papa made sure there was a firm line between barn and house. Animals were for profit, not for pets.”
“What about Oliver?”
“Oliver?” Nellie looked at him in surprise. “How do you know about Oliver?”
“Oh, everybody knew he was your cat. We’d hear you talking to him sometimes out behind the mess tent. And once I saw him sneaking into your tent in the middle of the night.”
Nellie struggled with a lump that had suddenly formed in her throat and something that made her eyes water. “I thought. . . .” She couldn’t talk.
“It’s all right, Miss Nellie. It’s natural to love something that loves you back, even if it’s a little cat. Do you know what Shakespeare said about love not being love if it changed?”
“Love is not love, which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove,” she quoted.
“That’s the one. People can change their minds all the time, but not animals like Charlie and Oliver. When this war is over and we can go home again, they’ll be waiting for us, the same as always. That’s the thought that keeps me going, sometimes. When this here war’s over, I’m gonna try to be the kind of man Charlie thinks I am.”
“It’s a beautiful thought, Billy.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “Think I need to rest awhile.”
For the rest of the night, Nellie sat with the boy’s head propped on her lap and watched him as he slept. Her heart ached—sometimes for him, sometimes for Oliver, and sometimes for that good ole’ huntin’ dog, waiting for his owner, who might never be coming home.
The week they spent at Annapolis was almost a vacation for most of the Roundheads. As the colonel had promised, they were quartered in two-story houses in the Naval Yard. The buildings were solidly constructed of brick, and the central yard boasted brick walkways, trees of every description, and grassy areas that were beginning to turn brown but were still invitingly soft. The furnishings were utilitarian, but each two-man room had iron bedsteads with real stuffed mattresses. Their meals were cooked on an iron stove and served at long tables. Plates were made of china, and glasses were really glass. For a few days they could forget the flapping of tent canvas and the smell of frying grease and wood smoke.
For Nellie, however, the first days passed in a blur. By Monday, Billy Sample’s condition had worsened, and Nellie seldom left his side. He tossed in the throes of delirium, groaning, mumbling, and sometimes shouting out in terror. Once, Nellie was sure she heard him call out to Charlie. There was little anyone could do for him. Sometime late Monday evening, he sank into a stupor whose quietness was as terrifying as his former thrashings had been. Nellie ran to summon the doctor.
“He’s not going to make it, is he?”
“We can’t say. It’s up to the strength of his own constitution, but it doesn’t look hopeful.”
“It’s not fair,” she protested. “He’s such a fine, simple, good soul. He never hurt anyone. He loved his dog and read Shakespeare. Why should he have to suffer like this?”
Near dawn, Doctor Ludington pulled the blanket over Billy’s face. “It’s over.”
“Shall I go for the chaplain?” she asked. But as she spoke, tears began to course down her cheeks.
“No, I’ll do that. You need to get control of yourself, Nellie. You mustn’t let Reverend Browne catch you weeping. He’ll use it to prove you’re not strong enough to go with us into war.”
Nellie’s chin came up and she glared at the doctor for a moment. Then she realized he was absolutely right. “It’s not my first experience with death, and I dare say it won’t be my last. I’m fine, Doctor.”
Beyond All Price Page 8