“What did he have to say about that? There are plenty of young men in the societies who want to volunteer even after Shiloh who are afraid it will all be over before they can pitch in, your brother included.”
Philip did not hesitate in his response. “They are fools, sir. Though I would not begrudge a man his opportunity nor dissuade him from doing what he is called to do for the cause of liberty, anyone who wishes or hopes the war will last long enough for him to don a uniform and shoulder a musket will soon find that he regrets the impetuosity of his desires. War is nothing to hope to experience.”
“Are you sure you won’t wait a few more days and stay until after Sunday?”
Philip smiled and shook his head. “You want me to speak about the war, volunteering, teach?”
“I want you to bring a balanced message of what it means to be a patriot. Not the recruiting drive speech, but one that will speak the truth to those in the societies who are guilt-ridden for not volunteering themselves or the hotheads who want to grow up too quickly so they can qualify.”
“I will think on it, sir. But if I didn’t listen to you, sir, what reason does anyone else have to listen to me if they have made up their minds already?”
His father smiled. “That is why we are here, son, to convince others of what they already know: that God does not deal harshly with his children but hopes all come to repentance. If not today, perhaps tomorrow they will be convinced, and if not tomorrow then perhaps the next day. This is why men like Moody take up the Scriptures and now the sword in their ministry, so as to convince some.”
Clearing his throat, Philip asked, “How have the societies taken to my taking up the collar once again?”
Charles replied, “Most have commented they are gratified you have been vindicated and are taking up the ministry once again.”
“You just want to show off your soldier son, sir.” Philip winked.
“Can you blame me? The prodigal son returns, the fatted calf is slaughtered, and the feast begins.”
Philip looked around with a wry expression. “Still waiting on the feast part.”
“The fatted chickens were slaughtered, and the guests were your traveling companions and your brother,” Charles conceded.
“Then Paul should have been appropriately thankful for the change of pace that my arrival brought.”
Charles leaned back in his chair and sighed, laying a heavy hand upon the armrest as if bracing himself. “I wish you would speak to Paul. Your brother has it in his mind to volunteer; I convinced him otherwise when you left and he stayed to help me. But now he’s found a fancy for Miss Henderson of our Germantown congregation and he believes he needs to march off to war.”
“Unless he wishes to serve for the cause of freedom, he will only grow weary of the routine and the privation. His enlistment would be for the duration of the papers or he’d risk being shot as a fugitive. Johnny’s sister, huh? Now won’t that be a peach? I’d imagine Johnny never thought I’d be a brother-in-law.” Philip stopped and looked at his father. “But you don’t approve still?”
“You are already in the service and lost to me here,” Charles said, drumming his fingers absently upon the armrests. “I was ever so glad you petitioned to regain your standing in the church and that you were accepted as a chaplain. It meant that I would see you again while you were still in the land of the living.”
Philip nodded and smiled.
Charles continued, “But if your brother volunteers I will have no one here to help see to the churches and the circuit, not to mention the possibility God might take him from me too, on some terrible battlefield.”
“Do you disapprove of his reasoning for volunteering or of Miss Henderson?”
“His friends have all volunteered and are away, and there is little else for him to do but to help me minister, and that is not even in his heart. I’d rather he be with me to cut my loneliness, and he’d be safe here. I think there are other reasons to volunteer, but he has to follow his own path.” Charles sighed and slumped in the chair.
Philip’s brother was old enough to volunteer; age was not the limiting factor. Philip hadn’t known that Paul had been kept from volunteering earlier. “Well, sir, I think you are right about Paul needing to follow his own path and be free to do that, risk or not. He wrote me about courting someone, or at least wanting to, but he didn’t mention who.” Philip smiled again as he thought of Johnny as a brother-in-law. “So, has he spoken with Mr. Henderson about courting Louise?”
“Yes, but that is what concerns me is Mr. Henderson’s response. Paul must prove he can do something with his life first before having Jacob Henderson’s blessing. That is why he wants to volunteer even more now.”
“I suppose, sir, there are worse reasons for volunteering to march into the waiting lines of an enemy. But you might as well attempt to stop the Ohio River with a beaver’s dam as get in the way of a man who wants to impress a girl and her father.”
Charles nodded. “Just make sure Paul is going to do it for the right reasons, not for some infatuation but for a reason that will chart his path. If I’m going to have both my sons risking their lives, I’d like to know they are both doing it for a greater good.”
“I will talk to him, sir.”
“And you will go and visit the Harpers; that is not suggestion but a directive, son. You will do it in the morning.”
Before turning in, Philip thought about the conversation and the nature of what his father was asking regarding Paul. Neither he nor his father could forbid Paul’s volunteering, and as his brother, he could little influence if Paul wouldn’t listen to their father. Nor did Philip truly think Paul should be dissuaded if he’d set his heart on doing it now.
Breakfast the next morning was a quiet affair, as it always was in a house among men. Conversation was limited to the usual pleasantries of sleep and what was going to happen during the day. Goaded into going with Philip while he purchased some food and other traveling supplies, Paul accompanied his brother on the short walk toward the business area of the town.
“Louise Henderson?” Philip asked without preamble.
Paul grinned. “Unless Jacob her father has something to say about it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me it was Louise? You cost me no amount of ribbing I could have delivered to her brother.” Philip chuckled as he tipped his hat to a passerby.
“It wasn’t official an’ still isn’t,” Paul said with a huff.
“Father told me. He also told me you wanted to volunteer when I left, but he begged you to stay.”
“Yeah, I stayed and let you go. I guess Father didn’t care which one of us stayed as long as someone was around to keep him company, but I suspect he weren’t entirely happy you left.”
“I gathered that myself. And now you want to volunteer, finally. You sure you want to do this? You can find other ways of showing Jacob Henderson you can make something of yourself.”
“It’s time I did something worthwhile. Father doesn’t really need anyone to help him, he just wants someone around. I didn’t do much to help, as there isn’t much to do. I think it was his excuse.”
“A dangerous business, but there’s an expectation that if you’re able, you should volunteer. You think that’s what Jacob is all about? You just proving you aren’t a coward?” Philip asked as the two were stopped by a parishioner to inquire about Philip’s health.
Resuming, Paul said “I don’t know. He wants to know I can take care of his daughter and grandchildren, and I’m not demonstrating that following Father around.”
“What does Louise have to say?”
“What can she say? It’s up to Jacob to approve. She’d just as soon have me do something else, I suppose.”
“You’ll be signing papers for the duration of the war, three years or the duration. Be ready to be away from home for a long time.”
Paul was silent for a time as Philip bought supplies from the dry goods store, and as the two walked back he asked, “How
was it … Shiloh?”
Philip stopped and thought a moment. How to explain the degree of suffering witnessed on a battlefield to a brother who didn’t seem to have a whole lot of enthusiasm for much of anything? “Awful and exciting at the same time. What you read probably doesn’t do it justice. Just the graves alone, rows upon rows of the dead laid out with crude crosses or just a board labeled with how many Rebs were buried in a single pit—that’s what it was like. Seeing the whole population of Germantown laid out and gone, everyone. That’s what it was like. Something to be avoided at all costs, and yet you are in uniform and you look forward to getting at the enemy, at least until you’ve seen a Shiloh. It’s like letting someone shoot at you and not flinching lest you be considered a coward. That’s what it was like, Shiloh. Then there’s the constant marching and fatigue details, picket duty at all hours of the night, twenty-mile marches in the heat and hours of boredom; that was Corinth.”
Paul nodded and looked out into the distance.
Philip continued, “I wanted to get away and to quit the cloth. You can see where that got me. You should volunteer because it is the right thing to do, not to prove something to Jacob Henderson. You should do it because you wouldn’t mind dying for the republic.”
“You want to die for the republic?”
Philip paused. “No, not really. I think that’s why I’m right back where I started, just with the uniform this time. You have to be ready to die, or at least think you are. I don’t think anyone is really ready to die for some cause after a month or so of the routine and after a battle, but by then you are committed whether you like it or not. You signed the papers; you are now no longer your own body, but the army’s. If you come along, be ready to do it because you love something other than life.”
“Like Saint Paul said of his own life … he considered his life forfeit for the blood of Christ,” Paul replied, something like understanding alighting upon him.
“Yes, that is apt,” Philip said. “Joining the war is not of such nobility as that, but it is the same thought. You will suffer much for the privilege of being shot at by a Rebel line of battle and spending months marching around or in drill and wondering what the big bugs, the generals, have planned for the next great defeat. If you can make that commitment, you are on your way to understanding the meaning of being a man. You choose to volunteer, I’ll support that choice, and Father can make do on his own.”
Stopping on their father’s porch, the two of them hesitated before taking the steps. Looking at his brother, Philip said at length, “Sleep on it before telling Father anything. I’m going to stay another night and speak tomorrow for service; then I’ll be leaving for Cincinnati. I’ll write to Lieutenant Colonel Neibling of the 21st this evening, and you let me know what you decide.”
Paul nodded and took the steps in a bound.
Neither noticed the man peering at them from behind the corner of the house. Clad in dirty Confederate grey and with a look of recognition on his face, he watched for several moments as the two men disappeared into the house. The horse, “US property” branded upon its hindquarters, stood tantalizingly close. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself against the back of the house and cursed his luck.
Philip returned after a few moments and mounted the horse for the next thing he had to do. Had was the operative word. Want was far from the errand. The Harper farm occupied several hundred acres on the outskirts of Germantown. The ride would be several hours in the saddle at an easy gait.
As Philip approached the track leading to the main house an hour later, he was shocked at how rundown the fences appeared. A fence line was only as well kept as the house and outbuildings on a farm, and a poor fence meant poor upkeep and no animals to fence. It had only been a year and a half, but the days had taken their toll. Fence rails were missing or fallen, and high grass marked once well-groomed fields where cows and other animals had grazed freely.
The house itself looked weathered, its paint peeling in places. Idle tilling equipment stood amidst tall weeds, and the social part of the home, the porch, was vacant of chairs or amenities for enjoying a sunrise or sunset. There were people working in the fields, taking care of last-minute grooming before the harvest days descended. Several horses stood tied to the front post of the house. Philip tied his own up and let it nibble on the feed in the trough that sat low to the ground in front of the post. Straightening himself, he took the steps slowly and feared the approach to the door.
A light knock and perhaps no one would hear, and he could safely tell his father he had tried. But the rapping was too loud; it stirred immediate movement in the front room, and Philip heard footsteps approach the door.
A gentle swing inward of the door revealed a tired and worn woman, younger than he by three years, with a face he knew as well as his own. Elizabeth Harper regarded him coolly. Clad in a simple farm working dress and apron, she kept one hand on the doorknob and the other impudently upon her hip. A furrowing of her brow was his only greeting. This was the reception he knew he deserved but dreaded. Of all of the people in Germantown he’d let down, Elizabeth was the one whom he regretted the most.
“Miss Harper … Elizabeth,” Philip croaked. “I wish to call on you and your father if I may.”
“What is this? You home from the war and no longer a private soldier?” It was the voice that used to turn his head, not as sweet as before but with a lilt that had always caused him to regard her kindly. There was no kindness in the question.
“Yes, ma’am; I am home briefly after accepting a commission as chaplain of the 21st Ohio Regiment of Volunteers. I am home only briefly.”
Elizabeth stepped aside and opened the door more fully, ushering him in. The sitting room he was ushered into was the same as he remembered it, if not a little more unkempt. The chairs were assorted wooden straight-back and rocking chairs that were gathered around the central feature of the receiving room, the fireplace. Family images were strewn about in haphazard fashion.
“So you’re here now. What is it you want?”
“I … I wanted to pay my respects to you and your father. I’ve been visiting all the families of the regiment and those we’ve lost from this area.”
“And you finally decide to come by us? You’ve been back for months now, or so I’m told. So your conscience finally got the better of you?”
Wincing, the biting tone of her voice adding to his agony, he looked down at the worn floorboards of the once neat and tidy sitting room.”I confess I did not want to do this,” Philip said in a low voice. He flushed. “Father insisted I needed to.”
“I see. So say it, and let’s get on with our lives. I will fetch Poppa, and you can say your piece to both of us and then be on your way.” She strode from the room. Philip brooded over the many times he’d sat in this room and had pleasant conversations with Elizabeth amidst the fluttering of her mother’s attentions to his comfort or the serving of some refreshment to enhance his call. The sitting room was dusty and unkempt. If he could exchange this visit for a slow march toward an enemy line, he might just have preferred the random shot to the head than a recounting of his sins. Folding his hands about his chest, he studied the room for some clue as to how Elizabeth and her father were getting on.
A moment later she returned and sat while the doorway filled with the presence of the father, who filled the frame with his girth. Andrew Harper had put on more weight, a sign of a farmer who no longer farmed.
“Parson it is again, I hear,” Harper said coldly.
Philip steadied himself. “Sir, Miss, I wanted to come and pay my respects on the account of Lee. One of the last things I did before the army left Pittsburg Landing was visit his grave. I wanted to pay my respects and say I am sorry for the state of affairs between us.”
Andrew Harper looked older than he really was. He was losing his hair and was not grooming his beard, and though he was clad in work clothes, he did not appear to have been working.
“Ye got somethin’ to say?” An
drew said tersely.
“Yes, sir, I do. I left here over a year ago when I volunteered and did not do one thing that I should have. I did not rectify what I’d done. I know it is a lot under the bridge right now, but I must do this. I do not seek to win your forgiveness, but to offer my apologies for the unpleasantness I was to blame for and to pass on the last moments of Lee before he died.”
Elizabeth sat quietly, regarding her dress and biting her lower lip while her father stayed in the doorway looking bored.
“First of all, sir, I wish to offer my condolences for the passing of Beatrice. I did not hear of it until much later, after we had marched out of West Virginia after Cheat Mountain. Lee informed me that despite the … problem, she always respected my father and I. I was sorry I’d done something to endanger that respect. I also wish to offer my apologies for the shameful way in which I regarded your son and the event of his death. I had no right to deny the family a decent burial.”
Philip paused. Elizabeth looked away, and Andrew Harper stared at Philip as if trying to melt him with his thoughts.
“Finally, I just wanted to pass on something of Lee before he died. You see, we did not get on … he and I. I think he felt it his sworn duty as a Harper to make my life miserable, and he could, as he outranked me. I do not know if he wrote home about it much, but I did my best to antagonize him and he me at every opportunity. We did not let sleeping dogs lie. We carried on the feud. On the occasion of his wounding after the battle, we, that is, Samuel Henson and John Henderson and Theo Mueller and I, went looking for our wounded and dead on the field, and we found Lee and others gathered in a great crowd. He was seriously wounded and was certain to die. He knew he was dying, but his last request was to partake of communion. He wanted that to be his last earthly act.”
The Shiloh Series: Books 1-3 Page 55