Jewel of Promise

by Marian Wells

  “What else do you have?”

  “The story of Fort Fisher being taken. Butler tried to bomb the place with a boat loaded with explosives. Quite a fiasco.”

  “I think you should volunteer your services as a bomb expert,” laughed Alex.

  “Sorry, I haven’t seen a peach can since,” Matthew murmured.

  Alex shook the paper. “This is encouraging, Matt. There’s only one more port which the blockade runners can enter. After that—”

  “Lee’ll have to surrender.”

  “Here’s the proposed Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution!” Alex exclaimed. “Short and to the point: ‘Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.’ Man, am I glad to see this.”

  Matthew got to his feet. “See you in a couple of weeks, unless you decide you want to join us before.”

  “I’ll wait until I have two good legs. Right now, I know just how Mike Clancy felt.”

  ****

  Spring came in late February. Grass began to show green, and the dogwoods began to bloom. Union casualties had decreased markedly, and Alex was starting to use his leg. He had been discharged from the hospital, and had moved into the tent with Olivia.

  One day Crystal came to visit while he was admiring Olivia’s thickening waistline. He eyed Crystal’s expanding figure and said, “Crystal, I think you’d better retire from nursing. I’ll find a rocking chair for you.” She protested, and he teased, “You’ll have to give up feeding soldiers unless you grow longer arms.”

  “A rocking chair sounds wonderful,” she admitted. “I may even learn to knit.”

  Before long Alex took Crystal’s place at the hospital. When Olivia protested, he said, “I can’t outrun the Confederates, but I can push a washcloth and change bandages just as well as you.”

  When Matthew returned, he chuckled and said, “Alex, I’m going to find one of those head dresses for you. And I think you ought to borrow Crystal’s apron.”

  Matthew managed to fit a rocking chair into their tent. “It’s a good thing this baby will come in the summer,” he said. “Otherwise I’d be shipping you home.”

  He turned to look at Alex. “The Confederate soldiers are deserting,” Matthew continued, “and coming into our camp. I hear they’re leaving North Carolina at the rate of around a hundred a night. We’ve been getting a large number.”

  Olivia sat up. “Why would they come to you?”

  “Mostly for food. They know we’ll feed them. I think one of the main reasons they’re heading home is to plant crops for their families. They certainly can’t be blamed for that, but it’s a big drain on Lee. I don’t know where he’s going to find food for his men. Wilmington has finally been closed; that’s the last of the blockade runners’ ports. Most of the North Carolina coast is in Federal hands.” He paced restlessly around the tent. “It’s exciting, but frustrating. The end is right here, but Lee doesn’t see it that way.”

  “I have a newspaper you haven’t read.”

  “What makes you think so?”

  “Because you’d be talking about it. Since General Sherman left Atlanta, he’s had thousands of Negroes following him. Naturally he’s not doing anything for them—he can’t fight a war at the same time.

  “News of the situation hit Washington and Secretary of War Stanton went to Savannah to talk to him and to contact the black leaders. He wanted to see what could be done to help them.

  “The slaves asked to be given land, so Sherman took military action under war powers, designating the sea islands and the rich plantation land along rivers in South Carolina for settlement by former slaves. Each family will receive forty acres.”

  “That’s wonderful news!” Matthew reached for the paper.

  “Yes,” Olivia said, “they certainly deserve the help. Many of the freed slaves are fighting in the army. I read that Southerners put strong pressure on the Confederate government to use the slaves as soldiers.”

  “My guess is,” Matthew said slowly, “Lincoln’s refusal to talk peace with the South apart from unconditional surrender will produce a move toward enlisting Negroes as soldiers.”

  ****

  By the middle of March, the spring rains appeared to be over. Puddles disappeared, and the fresh scent of spring nearly made it possible to forget the horror lying just beyond their camp. The sound of artillery still came from the entrenchments, but except for small skirmishes, war no longer seemed a constant threat.

  News drifted out of Richmond, giving them a picture of life there. The first informant was a peddler. The old man seemed to relish having an audience. “Naw, nobody’s worried about the war. President Davis seems as happy as the rest. Them people are celebrating the Confederate victory every Saturday night. Guess it’s all right, since they’re all in church come Sunday morning. But life goes on as usual. Sure, food’s hard to come by. No different than other places.

  “Without a doubt, them people have confidence that General Lee will win this war. Nearly every day the newspapers carry news that’s encouraging them on.”

  Olivia watched the peddler walk out of camp and said, “Do you suppose he’ll go back into Richmond and tell some outrageous tales about us?”

  “Might be outrageous, but it might be the truth,” Alex said thoughtfully. “But given the evidence, I wonder why Richmond is so happy?”

  “What evidence?”

  “All winter General Lee has advanced his troops only two miles. He is hurting for men to cover his lines. Perhaps this winter hasn’t been a waste.”

  “The injuries and deaths indicate General Lee is still active.”

  “Proportionately, Lee has lost more. With spring upon us, we can expect action to increase.”

  She looked at his worried frown and said, “You’re thinking about Crystal?”

  “And you. I wish you would both take the supply train back to Washington.”

  “Since spring is upon us,” she said lightly, “I think we might be safer right here.” He kissed her cheek and headed for the surgeon’s tent.

  When Olivia went to the supply tent the next day, she looked around at the opened packets of bandages. “Dr. Jason cleaning house?” she asked Sergeant Howe.

  “No. We’re gearing up to meet any need.”

  “And that means I’d better be ready too,” she said. “What shall I do here?”

  “We need bandages separated by size. Supplies must be packed to go in the ambulances, and surgery needs help. Dr. Jason has a theory that if instruments are handled differently, there won’t be as much infection among the men.” He shrugged, grinned, and said, “I don’t have any patience with the idea, seems a waste of time. However, if you’re inclined to pamper him, go in there and see what you can do.” He shook his head. “Never heard of boiling stuff like that.”

  Chapter 51

  Matthew had picket duty at Camp Stedman the night the final offensive began. The little moth-eaten fortification was tucked down between Fort Haskell and Fort McGilvery. It blocked the way to General Grant’s headquarters at City Point and shielded access to the heights guarding Grant’s supply rail line. Because of its location, the fort had received countless shellings, which had nearly reduced its logs to kindling.

  Just before dawn, shortly after the officer on duty checked the picket lines, Matthew heard the crunch of gravel. “Halt!” He ordered. He saw the man, another deserter. He sighed with relief. “Hands up and state your intentions.”

  “Going over the hill. Have a bite to spare? I’ve got my gun.”

  “We don’t need any guns. Save it for squirrel hunting,” Matthew lowered his musket. Suddenly the Rebel yell erupted from all points on the picket line. As Matthew whirled around, men in gray surged into Camp Stedman, surrounding the surprised Yanks before they could rush to arms.

  “Gotcha!” The musket nudged Matthew; he hesitated, unable to belie
ve the deception as he stared into the face of the ragged, gaunt Rebel. “Look behind ya!” chortled his captor. Matthew looked. The first light of dawn revealed the crowd in gray swarming into the Federal fortification.

  “We’ve lost it if they’ve covered the other two forts,” muttered the guard at Matthew’s elbow.

  The gray clad sergeant grinned at them. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen this many Yanks together. Pack in close, men; we don’t want to waste ammunition.” He nosed them toward the log shack.

  The rest of the garrison was prodded in behind them. From the fort they watched the sun rise, spreading light across the field in front of their window.

  The fellow beside Matthew tensed. “Maybe all’s not lost; look out the window.” Matthew looked one moment before the blue troops surged into the clearing with muskets blazing. In every direction the Confederates fled for cover.

  Matthew reacted, yelling, “Down, or our men will get us!”

  “What did they do with our muskets?”

  “I’ll look around.” Before their scout returned, the prisoners saw the battle had reversed. Waiting for a break, they dashed out of the fort, nearly colliding with the Ninth Corps.

  “Fall to it men; up to the batteries,” snapped General Parke. They ran, but it seemed to Matthew that he had barely reloaded when the battle was over. Pale smoke drifted away, revealing the encircled gray army.

  “We’ve taken two thousand prisoners,” he heard Parke say. “Lee can’t afford to lose that many men.”

  “Has the final bell rung?”

  “No, but this is a good start.”

  ****

  Olivia dressed quickly and went to Crystal’s tent. “You’ve heard the gunfire?”

  “Yes, I suppose this is what we’ve all been waiting for.” Olivia saw the shadows in Crystal’s eyes. She nodded as Crystal said, “I’ll come help.”

  “I’m not certain it’s necessary. I just came to check on you. Listen, all seems quiet now. Go back to bed; I’ll call you if necessary.”

  Olivia hurried to her post at the hospital tents. Later in the day Alex joined her with news. “The first attack was a Confederate offensive, the second ours. We have losses, and the wounded are coming in now. The first indications are that Lee has lost heavily.”

  “Be prepared to receive a great many wounded,” he added. “This was just the first show of force. General Grant is moving out now. It appears that Lee’s days of staying entrenched have come to an end.” He paused. “I’d say this is the turn of events we’ve been hoping for.”

  Crystal added in a low voice, “And dreading.” Olivia hugged her.

  The following day they walked out of their tents into heavy rain. “What dismal weather!” Crystal shivered and rubbed her arms. “All I can do is wonder about Matthew. Occasionally I’ve heard a gunshot this morning, but it’s nearly too quiet.”

  Silently they walked to the hospital tents. As Olivia began to distribute the breakfast bowls, she said, “The rain is a blessing; it keeps them from fighting.”

  One of the soldiers raised himself on his elbow. She said, “Sam, lie down. You’re putting pressure on that wound.”

  “Ma’am, don’t pray that we stop fighting. We gotta hang in there—get it finished up once for all; otherwise the problems will never be settled.”

  She nodded her head slowly. “I know, but all the bleeding and dying is gnawing at me until I can scarcely stand it.”

  “Jest your condition. Now you go sit down and drink some tea. My wife was the same.”

  Olivia turned away. Blinking tears from her eyes, she said, “You are sweet, Sam; now lie down.”

  “They’re pushing for Five Forks,” the orderly reported. “Know what that means?”

  The answer came from one of the beds. “Victory at last.” Olivia looked at the grinning man. “They’ll cut Lee’s supply route. Can’t fight without food.”

  “Those poor, poor men,” Olivia murmured as she carried the dishes back to the kitchen.

  The cook was a Negro who had freed himself by walking into camp. “Ma’am,” he said respectfully, “de rebels started dis. For us dis fightin’ is like takin’ a slivah outta a young’un’s fingah. Hurts, but it gotta be done.”

  Soon the rain stopped and cautious gunfire was heard. Rumors floated about the hospital compound. They heard that supply wagons and cavalry alike had been bogged motionless in the mud.

  On the next day, shortly after noon on April 1st, the campaign was resumed. “Five Forks,” Olivia stated. “That soldier said if the Confederates lose it, they’ll surrender. Dear Father, please.”

  When the first ambulance pulled into the field in front of the hospital, a wounded soldier sat up. His head was swathed in bandage. “Ma’am, nurse,” he demanded, “wrap this head up so’s the blood doesn’t get in my eyes. I want to get back in there. Grant’s got them. He’s capturing men right and left.”

  Olivia smiled as a motherly gray-haired nurse shook her finger at him. “You just lie there until the doctor has time. You have to take your turn. I’ve got a feeling this war’s going to get won without any more outta you. Now, do you want a drink of water?”

  On April second, with dawn lighting the sky in a glorious display of color, Olivia followed Alex to the hospital tents. He stopped outside a tent and turned to look toward Petersburg. “I hear gunfire. Guess we’d better get ready for them.” He glanced down at Olivia, “Do you know what day this is?”

  “Palm Sunday, the day we commemorate our Lord Jesus entering Jerusalem,” she mused thoughtfully. “This morning I recalled His words as He wept over the city. ‘O Jerusalem, Jerusalem…how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not! Behold your house is left unto you desolate.’

  “Alex, how frightening those words are! Desolate! It’s a picture of cold wind sweeping through barren rooms, banging shutters.” She shivered, and whispered, “Is that a picture of America? Have we so displeased the Lord?”

  “I don’t know how this war could be pleasing to Him, but Olivia, we still have His promise. If we return to Him with our whole heart, He will hear and forgive.”

  “We can only try to right the wrongs which have been done,” she agreed. “Alex, I have a feeling that all will suffer, the innocent as well as the guilty.”

  That day, when the first of the injured came in, they were grinning despite their pain. “We did it! Broke through Lee’s lines. It’s an open door to Petersburg. His railway lines are not worth patching up.”

  As darkness fell, information coming into the hospital compound indicated that Lee was at Petersburg, with pickets posted. “That means he hasn’t surrendered,” Sam said. “I can’t believe he’s holding out so long.”

  ****

  During the night, Olivia and Alex were awakened by excited voices. The two dressed hastily and joined the group outside. Crystal appeared just as the explosions began. “It’s Petersburg; the Rebels are destroying their stores!” One after another the blasts came, diminishing in ear-shattering sound as they moved north toward Richmond. Alex said, “It’s the batteries along the river.”

  “Look!” The group turned to the north. Flames were rising above the trees.

  “I’ve an idea that’s the bridge.”

  “Look at Petersburg. They must have burned all the warehouses. What flames! Are the townspeople in danger?”

  “I don’t know about Petersburg, but I heard Richmond’s grand folk left yesterday afternoon.”

  “Seems to me those flames are over Richmond way,” came a careful voice.

  Olivia and Crystal turned away, while Crystal murmured, “Those poor people. All the fighting, with loved ones lost forever, and now they are beaten down to nothing. How will they live?”

  “I don’t know,” Olivia whispered. “Crystal, we both have loved ones in the South. I wonder how they’ve fared.”

  Crystal shivered. “We have a responsibility to help t
hem, but right now I want only Matthew. I can live with poverty, but I want Matthew.”

  He returned two days later. Crystal clung to him, whispering, “I can’t believe that after these terrible days you manage to smile as well as look healthy and happy.”

  He hugged her and then held her away to look into her eyes. “My precious Crystal. It’s over; it’s time to rejoice. It’s also time to go home and settle into being a family.”

  As Alex and Olivia crossed the hospital compound, Matthew saw the relief on Alex’s face. He slipped his arm across Alex’s shoulders. “Tell me, brother, do you think we can get permission to pack up our wives and head for Pennsylvania? Crystal’s showing every symptom of needing her own little nest.”

  Olivia smiled. “I’ve a feeling Dr. Jason will gladly recommend that. I don’t think he’s very comfortable with females in this condition.”

  She went to kiss Matthew. For a moment her eyes darkened. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we, Matthew—all of us.”

  “A very long way, dear sister,” he said gently.

  Olivia blinked at the tears in her eyes as she watched Matthew and Crystal walk toward their tent. “Alex, I want to go home, too. Is it possible?”

  He nodded. “As soon as we can pack and get to the train.”

  “You won’t feel badly about leaving now?”

  “No. Olivia, it’s over; the fighting is finished. Would you believe it, my conscience is at rest?” An expression of pain crossed his face, and she pressed her head against his arm.

  “Alex, you needn’t pretend with me. I know—possibly more than we’ll ever be able to put into words—I know. But even scars heal.”

  “And lives?” he asked. She nodded, and he put his arm around her shoulders. “Olivia, who would have dreamed all this would happen to us.”