The Last Confederate

by Gilbert, Morris

  As soon as the stricken man was taken away, Dooley remarked, “He’ll lose that leg, Thad. Knee was plumb busted.” They both discovered they were extremely thirsty, and drank what little water they had in their canteens. “We crossed a creek back aways,” Dooley said. “Let’s see if the officers will let us git some water.”

  They approached Lieutenant Beauchamp for permission. At first he hesitated, then nodded. “You better go in small groups, Young. The Yankees might come at us again, and we’re pretty thin.”

  They called to Lew Avery and Les Satterfield, and the four took as many canteens as they could carry. The creek was small, but seemed clear, and they filled the canteens and started back. “That was almost too much of a good thing,” Lew remarked. He was a dark-faced man with the expressionless features of a professional gambler. “I hope they don’t try it again until we get more of our guns in place.”

  Even as he spoke there was a clatter of rifle fire, and Les cried out, “They’re startin’ in again!” and the four raced back just in time to see that the regiment was falling back.

  “We can’t hold this position,” Major Lee shouted to Mark and Beauchamp. “Pull back into that gully; then you’ll have to hold them back. Cover the retreat. Hold as long as you can!”

  He galloped off, and both officers began running down the line, shouting, “We’ll retreat to that gully. Keep firing as you go!”

  It was about three hundred yards to the gully. The rest of the brigade went first, followed by Company A. As they all dropped into place, they quickly formed a thin battle line. “Gosh, there’s a million of them bluebellies!” someone shouted, and it didn’t seem far wrong to Thad and the others either.

  Mark Winslow knew they were in a vulnerable position, and voiced his concern to Beau. “We’re going to get slaughtered here. There’re too few of us.”

  “Orders are to stay,” Beau replied. He wiped his face and asked, “You got any ideas?”

  Mark had been surveying the ground behind them, and his eyes focused on a series of steep ridges to their rear. “Look, Beau—see that gap in those ridges? If we can get behind them, the Yanks will have to break up their lines. They can’t climb those ridges, so they’ll have to come at us right through that gap.”

  Beauchamp immediately saw the advantage and cried out, “You’re a young Napoleon, Mark! Let’s try it!”

  It took little urging to get the company to fall back, for they saw a massive line of bluecoats starting across the field toward them. The Virginians raced through the thin line of trees, dashed across the gap, which was no more than thirty feet wide, and regrouped behind a series of low mounds about five hundred yards from the gap.

  “We got to stop ’em, boys!” Mark called out.

  “Lieutenant,” Beauchamp said, “I think we better let our best shots do the shooting. The rest can load.”

  Mark stared at him, then at the open space between their position and the gap. “That’s a long shot, Beau. But we’ve got enough sharpshooters to do the job. Sharp and Young for sure . . .” He named off several more of the best shots.

  “You left out Novak,” Beau said with a wry grin. “I know for sure he can shoot! Let’s position them quickly—I think the Yankees are about ready to charge.”

  Thad and the others were named, and Mark shouted out, “The rest of you load up. Don’t take a shot yourself. Sharpshooters, drop the Yanks as soon as they come through that gap!” The men broke up around the twelve others chosen, with rifles loaded and ready.

  “HERE THEY COME!” somebody roared, and instantly Thad saw the gap turn blue as the enemy crowded through. He lifted his Whitworth and knew he could not miss that thick mass. At the same instant he heard the other sharpshooters firing. A hand snatched at his rifle and replaced it with a loaded musket. He threw it up, fired, and at once another musket was thrust into his hands. There was no letup. The muskets down the small line were exploding like the gatling gun he’d heard about, and with every shot a blue-clad soldier fell.

  Thad didn’t know how long it went on, but he fired what seemed like hundreds of times, never having to wait for a loaded gun. The gap was filled at least four deep with the dead, and as soon as others staggered and crawled over the bodies of their dead and dying, they were shot down at once.

  Finally someone shouted, “That’s retreat! Hear it?” Far off over the ridge, a bugle was sounding.

  “They’re quitting!” Mark cried.

  A ragged cheer went up, and everyone pounded Thad’s back for the tremendous job he’d done. With jubilation the group returned to the main body, where Major Lee greeted them. He jumped lightly off his horse and said to the officers, “My congratulations to you both! I never saw a finer holding action!”

  “Well, we had some pretty fair shooters, Major,” Mark grinned.

  “Yes, I’ve seen one of them shoot before, I believe.” Lee smiled at Beau, who returned it, then came over to where Thad was standing. “You did well, soldier. I wish we had 100,000 soldiers just like you.”

  They pulled back that day, and the next morning were in full retreat. “Going to Richmond,” Tom told the squad. “Officers say we’ll be waitin’ there with our whole army when McClellan arrives.”

  “Whooee!” Dooley yelped. “Won’t we give them Yankees particular fits!”

  ****

  McClellan moved his forces north of the Chickahominy in a position to make contact with McDowell’s I Corps, which Lincoln had promised to send. The remaining Federal forces were deployed south of the Chickahominy, facing Richmond—only five miles away. In the evening the Yankee soldiers could hear bells from the churches and see their spires through the haze.

  But the total might of the Federal Army was now poised to strike at the very heart of the Confederacy. McClellan with his vast army of over 100,000 men was ready to overrun the thin ranks of the Army of Northern Virginia. One determined push, and the whole thing would be over. The North would have crushed the rebellion.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  THE SEVEN DAYS

  “How would you ladies like to go to a camp meeting tonight?”

  Sky’s words evoked a different reaction from each of the three women sitting at tables wrapping bandages for the hospital. Rebekah exclaimed, “Oh yes, that would be refreshing, Sky!”

  Pet asked cautiously, “Who is the preacher, Papa?” She was somewhat choosy about preachers, and did not want to commit herself to a boring sermon.

  Belle responded, “Oh, I’m too tired to go tonight.”

  Sky’s eyes twinkled. “Well, you girls stay at home then. Rebekah, put on your best dress so the soldiers will have something nice to look at.”

  “The soldiers?” Belle asked quickly.

  “Why, yes.” Sky winked at Rebekah, keeping his face turned. “Chaplain Boone is having a real good meeting with our men, so I thought we’d go visit. Mark and Tom will be there—and Vance and Thad, of course. I’ll tell them you were too tired, Belle.”

  “Papa! You are awful!” Belle jumped up and ran to her father, throwing her arms around his neck. Whirling around, she cried, “I must get something beautiful to wear! We can’t go looking like a bunch of beggars!”

  She flew out and Sky asked, “You think you might like to go, Pet?”

  “Oh . . . I guess so,” she replied casually. “I always liked Brother Boone’s preaching.” She got up and followed Belle, adding, “I’ll make a cake for the boys.”

  Sky laughed at them, then sobered. He sat down beside Rebekah and watched as she continued her task. Finally, he broached the subject neither one wanted to face. “It may be our last chance to visit the boys. I talked to Colonel Chestnut today. General Lee thinks that McClellan is ready to move.”

  “Will they get to Richmond, Sky?”

  He put his chin in his hands and thought about the situation. “Well,” he began, “Chestnut said that on June twelfth, Jeb Stuart went on a scouting mission. He was just supposed to feel McClellan out, but you know how Jeb is—he ro
de around the whole Yankee Army! Chestnut said the generals got their heads together, and Lee decided to send most of the army against the force that’s north of the Chickahominy.” He paused, awe in his voice. “That Robert E. Lee is a natural-born gambler! He’s leaving Richmond with not much more than a thin screen, but he knows there’s no other way to stop the big force that McClellan’s got right at our front gate.”

  “What if the Yankees attack while most of the army is gone?”

  “Well, that might be the end of it all,” Sky shrugged. “Chestnut told me that Lee sent Stonewall Jackson to the Shenandoah Valley to make trouble so that the reinforcements the North is sending to McClellan will have to go there, take them off our back.”

  Rebekah put the bandage down and rose to stretch her aching back. “Guess it’s a good time for us to go to church. What time will we leave?”

  “Soon as we can get Belle dressed and Pet’s cake made.”

  They left at three o’clock, but the short distance took them longer than usual. The roads were crowded with troops and guns—all headed for the front. Sky had to pull over and wait several times. It didn’t matter, though; they were impressed with the fortifications that had been built. When the family did get to the army camp, they found a madhouse of activity. Sky asked a harried sergeant where the camp meeting would be held, and soon they were on their way. They arrived in time to share their supper and Pet’s cake with Mark and Tom. Belle captured Vance as soon as he appeared and the two vanished.

  “I’ll be surprised if they hear much of Boone’s preaching,” Sky whispered to Rebekah. Then he said, “Look, there’s Thad.”

  Pet had been watching the soldiers file in, most of them going at once to stand before a wagon that was used as a platform for the preacher. She saw Thad look toward her, nod, and look away. She knew he was too shy to come to her, so she said, “Papa, may I go down front where I can hear better?”

  “Of course,” Sky replied soberly. “I’ve been real concerned about this hearing problem of yours. Go right on down.”

  She flushed, knowing that he was teasing her. Without delay she made her way through the crowd seated on the ground. Since there were no civilians at the meeting, the sight of the young woman drew the eyes of most of the men. “Hello, Thad,” she said breathlessly when she reached his side.

  He turned at once, and was embarrassed by the attention she had drawn. “Why, hello, Miss Patience.” Every ear immediately around them was tuned to their words, and he asked, “Come to hear the preaching?”

  She nodded and would have spoken, but a corporal had stepped up on the wagon and begun singing a hymn. The two seated themselves quickly. The men sang lustily, so there was no opportunity for Pet and Thad to talk. After many songs, Chaplain Boone got up on the wagon and began his sermon. He was preaching to men who might not outlive the week, as they well knew, so he preached a simple message, speaking of the need of forgiveness, and the love of Jesus. He spoke mostly about Jesus as the Lamb of God, and to Thad it was all new. He did not know the Bible, so when Boone began to tell them how every Jewish family on Passover would take a lamb and kill it, he listened intently.

  “For hundreds of years,” Boone said, “thousands of lambs died. They were offered as a sacrifice for sin, representative of the perfect Lamb to come. The lambs in themselves could not forgive sin, for the Bible says, ‘It is impossible that the blood of bulls and goats could take away sin.’ Those innocent lambs were a picture of what was to come, and one day it all came true.” He opened his Bible and lifted his voice like a trumpet: “The next day John seeth Jesus coming unto him, and saith, ‘Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world.’.”

  The words pierced Thad like a sword, and he was aware that many of his fellow soldiers were also touched. He felt Pet’s hand grasp his arm, holding it tightly. As the preacher went on, telling of how the blood of Jesus did what the blood of animals could not, Thad felt as he had at the camp meeting in earlier days when Boone had preached on “Ye must be born again.”

  The sermon finally ended, and many soldiers were on their knees, some of them weeping and crying to God. He saw Les Satterfield, Dooley’s rawboned cousin, weeping. At the same moment he noticed that Chaplain Boone had spotted Les. The chaplain came down and put his arm around the boy and began to pray. Thad watched as Les finally lifted his tear-stained face and nodded.

  “He’s been saved, Thad!” Pet whispered, and waited for him to speak, but he sat there silently. Then she whispered, “Wouldn’t you like to be saved, too?”

  Thad was shaking physically, his legs weak and his hands trembling, but that was nothing to compare with what was going on in his heart. He had always thought of God as someone far off, but he was now totally aware that God was in the meeting—a sudden consciousness that in Thad’s own heart there was a Presence. He could not put it into words, but as he sat there, he suddenly felt terribly unclean. Something in him knew that he needed forgiveness.

  But he could not yield.

  Despite the desire to give in, to throw himself on his knees and beg for mercy, he could not force himself to do it. Instead, he tore his arm from Pet’s grasp, wheeled, and shoved his way through the crowd, his face set and his eyes burning.

  Chaplain Boone had been watching the two, and now he came to stand beside the girl. “Don’t give up hope,” he encouraged quietly. “That young fellow is running from God—but your prayers will bring him to the cross.”

  Pet’s face was wet with tears, and she could not speak; but in the days to follow, she would recall the preacher’s words again and again. Slowly she went back to her family, her heart heavy and filled with dread, for she knew that Thad had rejected the thing he needed most in all the world. All she could do that night and for weeks thereafter was to pray, “Oh, God, keep him safe—until he finds you!”

  ****

  On June 26 Lee’s troops struck the V Corps at Mechanic-sville—the first battle in what became known as The Seven Days’ Battles. The Third Virginia was in the forefront of that battle, and in the following days, Thad and the others in Company A grew so weary they could not distinguish one battle from another. Gaines’ Mill, Savage’s Station, Glendale—they followed one after another, but at some point McClellan’s nerve failed and he began to call for a retreat. The final battle was an elevation called Malvern Hill, and it was in this final struggle that General Robert E. Lee made one of his rare tactical errors—and Thad Novak paid part of the price for it.

  It all began when McClellan and his Union Army stopped their retreat long enough to fight the Confederate force, and he could not have picked a better spot. His defensive position was ideal. He had the military advantage of height. Swampy ground below forced Lee’s men to concentrate in a single area for attack. There were siege cannon behind McClellan and river gunboats on the James to back him up. And he had an army that had been beaten back but not defeated.

  Captain Wickham found his company flat on their backs, gasping for breath. They had been rushed from another part of the battlefield at a dead run. Wickham paused before he spoke, for he thought this last move was a mistake. He could see what the generals could not see from their position in the rear—a charge up the hill would be suicide for the men. He had argued fiercely with Colonel Barton, but Barton was in the grip of such a mindless fear that he could only follow orders blindly.

  It was four o’clock, Wickham saw by a glance at his watch, and the attack was set for five. He forced himself to smile, and walked quickly toward the exhausted troops, saying, “Get your breath, men. We’re going to shove Little Mac all the way back to Washington!”

  Beau had been standing to one side, studying the terrain with a jaundiced eye. He came over to say quietly to the captain, “We’ll never get up that hill, Vance.”

  “It’s orders, Beau,” Wickham replied. “We’ll have to do it.” He nodded toward the right of the slow rise of hill and said, “If we could swing right instead of charging straight up that hill, I thin
k we could use those trees for a shield—maybe come at them on the flank.”

  “You don’t know what’s behind those trees,” Beau said. “I’ll take a look.”

  “No, you stay with the men,” Wickham ordered instantly. “But we’ll send a scouting party.” He thought about it, then said, “Send Sergeant Henry, Mellon and Novak. Tell them that all I want to know is what’s on the other side of those trees.”

  Beau nodded and hurried to find Will Henry, telling him briefly what the captain wanted. He looked at Henry’s pale face and thought, Wish I didn’t have to order him out. Will and he had something in common—both of them had loved Belle Winslow. The lieutenant thought back over the years and realized that Henry had suffered quietly, never hoping for success with Belle, and Beau felt a quick pang of remorse at the way he’d always had a mild contempt for the little fellow. He impulsively put his hand on the thin shoulder and said with a smile, “Now you be careful, Will. Don’t go getting yourself killed, you hear me?”

  Will Henry looked up with surprise, for Beau Beauchamp had never shown any concern or respect for him. “Why, I’ll do that, Lieutenant. You just wait till we get back before you start the ball.”

  Will left and called out, “Mellon, you and Novak come with me.”

  “What’s up?” Mellon demanded. He had turned out to be a good enough soldier, tough as boot leather, though he was lazy and shiftless in many ways. He had never gotten over his hatred for Thad, and it showed as he glared at him.

  “Got to find out what’s over behind those trees,” Henry told him. “Let’s go—we don’t have much time.” They left immediately, and soon were encased in the thick growth of oak and pine that lined the bottom of the slope and meandered up the hill in a desultory fashion. As the hill grew steeper, the men began to pant for breath, once stopping for a breather. “Shouldn’t be too far to the edge of those woods!” Henry gasped. “Be careful now—the Yankees ought to be right where the woods leave off.”