Ten days after receiving his wound, James was visited by the ranking military surgeon, Major Denton Wilcox. Major Wilcox had stayed behind when the army moved out to supervise the care of the great number of wounded. After conducting a thorough examination, the major explained his thoughts and opinions to James.
“I am sure that you can understand, Lieutenant, that any head would is considered to be serious, even in your case where fortunately the skull was not penetrated or even fractured. With a wound such as yours, there can still be temporary and sometimes permanent damage to the brain, which can affect eyesight or perhaps motor skills. It is my considered opinion that your condition will continue to improve until you are completely back to normal. The downside is that it is going to take time; how much time is impossible to calculate. Therefore, it is my recommendation that you should be relieved from duty until such time as you are cleared by competent medical authority to return. In other words, we are sending you home.”
“I suppose I should be happy about that, Major, and I guess I am. But it is with reluctance that I leave my post. I assume that a soldier always feels that way.”
“Just the good ones.”
“Thank you, sir. I assure you that as soon as I am able, I’ll be back.”
“In the meantime, Lieutenant, take care of yourself.” James saluted his superior and said goodbye.
Three days later, he was on the train from Gettysburg to Mapletown. Major Wilcox had supplied him with a letter and a copy of his medical record to be given to his doctor at home. From that point on, Dr. Pierce would see to his care.
As the train was leaving the station, an old man in the seat behind him was talking to his wife. Apparently they had come to Gettysburg to visit a relative, a Union soldier who had been wounded in the battle. Said the old man, “What can a man do when he’s lost both arms? What is to become of my poor cousin, Jacob?”
Cousin! The word triggered something in his mind. Suddenly it was all coming back. James had found his cousin, Jefferson, on the battlefield. He was badly hurt and possibly dying. He was telling James about the folks back home. The news wasn’t good. James was about to go for help when he was shot in the head. Then someone came to his aid; maybe it was sergeant something or other. He remembered being helped onto his horse. Didn’t the sergeant say he’d send help for the Reb?
The train was miles from the station now. There was nothing he could do. Did Jefferson live or die? At that moment James wondered if he would ever find out.
TWENTY-TWO
The Price of Commitment
As the train chugged westward, James’s thoughts were about the sudden turn of events. There was not enough time to send word to Polly, save for a telegram, and he was worried that a messenger at the front door might frighten her. By the same token, she would not be prepared for James to suddenly show up at home either. At least when he did, she would see immediately that he was alive and in one piece, then he could explain things in person.
He tried to enjoy the thought of soon being in the company of his family . . . and he did. However, the fact that he was going home because he’d been wounded again, did detract from it; not to mention the concern about how well he would recover. The double vision plagued him and his head was still sore. Half of his hair had been shaved off, adding a gruesome appearance to his physical problems.
When the train arrived at the station in Mapletown, James decided to visit Dr. Pierce before going home. He thought it was important to see the doctor as soon as possible and his office was just a short walk from the station. It was necessary now to move around very carefully lest he fall or run into something and further injure himself. Major Wilcox had supplied him with a cane, and although he hated having to use it, he soon found out that it did come in handy.
Fortunately, when he got to Dr. Pierce’s office, the doctor was in. When the door opened, the doctor looked up from a journal in which he had been writing, saw James, and hurried to his side. “James, what’s happened? Here, let me get you seated.” Dr. Pierce took James’s arm and helped him into a large stuffed chair. He pulled another one alongside and sat himself.
“I just got in from Gettysburg,” said James. “I got in the way of another bullet.”
“Yes, it was a terrible battle. I read about it in the paper. What is the extent of your injury?” James handed him the letter and the report he was given by Major Wilcox. “This will explain better than I can.”
Dr. Pierce read over the paperwork very carefully, and then he said, “You’ve had a very close call.”
“Yes, a little too close. Do you agree with Major Wilcox about my chances for a full recovery?”
“I wish that I could give you a definite answer, James, but I can’t. It is simply too early to tell. We’ll have to wait for the swelling to go down completely before we can expect much improvement. I can give you something for the pain if you need it and I will change the bandage regularly. You needn’t come here. I will visit you at home. Does Polly know you’re here?”
“Not yet. I didn’t have time to send word. I’m afraid of how this will affect her. I haven’t heard from her lately. The army moves around so much that it is difficult for the mail to keep up. Is she well, and my son?”
“They’re fine, James. I stopped by just last week. Little James is growing like a weed in a spring garden. They will be happy to see you.”
“I am anxious to see them, too. I just hope I don’t scare them away. I don’t look so good with half my head shaved.”
“Nonsense, your hair will grow back quickly, and when everything is healed you’ll only have a scar on your scalp. Just be patient. I’ll go hitch up Sally and bring the buggy around front. I want you to be home taking it easy.”
The reunion with his family was the best medicine he could have received. For Polly, it was joy mixed with an unsettling concern that she obviously tried very hard to hide. Dr. Pierce was very helpful explaining what had happened and what to expect as James convalesced.
When the doctor was gone she took James’s hands in hers and cried, “My dear husband. What is all of this doing to you? I have endured the loneliness. I have kept my faith in God and in the government to end slavery and pull the country back together. But it grieves me so to see you hurt again. Is this the price of commitment? God help me, but the price may be too high.” At that point she broke down completely.
James stroked her soft blonde hair until her weeping subsided. “I have struggled with this issue myself,” he said. “When I woke up in the hospital in Gettysburg I was in total darkness. I couldn’t remember what had happened and I was terrified. Then I found out that I was in a house of God and I was being ministered to by a nun named Sister Dorthea. Her voice was so kind and comforting that my fear disappeared. For what purpose I was wounded, I cannot exactly say. But God was with me and the fact that I am here with you proves it.”
Then James told her the story of how he had been wounded. He told her about finding his cousin, Jefferson, on the battlefield and about everything he’d learned before Jeff lost consciousness.
“I don’t know if Jeff survived or not. I do know that my parents are not well and that other members of my family have suffered a loss. That is why this terrible conflict must end. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but the only way for it to end is to keep fighting. I remember how you explained it to me the last time I was home and you were right. We must carry on, not just for our sake, but for our son’s generation as well.”
“Forgive my weakness, James. It is only because I love you so.”
“There is nothing to forgive. Please don’t think of yourself as weak—it isn’t true. I am guilty of having the same feelings as you. We will find our strength in each other and not allow what we have to be destroyed.”
“And your family in Georgia . . . what can we do for them?”
“We can pray.”
The conversation was interrupted by a baby’s cry from upstairs.
“Your son is awake,
” said Polly. “He probably knows that his courageous father is home. I will tend to him then bring him down for a visit.”
James eased back in the chair and closed his eyes. It really was good to be home no matter how it had come to be. When Polly came downstairs, James took his son and held him for hours. Even at seven months he was the image of his mother: fair hair and the same blue eyes. James hoped that one day he would take the boy to Georgia and show him his ancestral home.
By January, 1864, James was showing vast signs of improvement. His wound was completely healed and his eyesight was nearly back to normal. He still suffered from headaches, but they were less frequent. Dr. Pierce was still unwilling to release James from his care. Like Reverend Pyle and his wife, Dr. Pierce had become a very close friend. After all, it was the good doctor who had saved his life the first time he came to Mapletown. It was he who had delivered little James and taken care of Polly.
Now James harbored the suspicion that perhaps the doctor did not wish to see him return to the war. Maybe he thought that if he withheld the release long enough the war would end before he could return to battle. Even if James could prove his suspicion he would not be angry—he would be grateful. The doctor’s idea, if it were true, would hold a certain degree of promise. During his time at home, James had read every word the paper printed about the progress of the war. He knew, of course, that Gettysburg had been a great Northern victory. What he didn’t know at the time was that the Confederate stronghold at Vicksburg, Mississippi had fallen the same day to General U.S. Grant and his army. A turning point had been reached and the more optimistic people in the country might be willing to say that light could be seen at the end of the tunnel.
The beginning of 1864 also marked the one year anniversary of the acceptance of blacks into the Union army. James remembered thinking how wonderful it was that the black man was finally getting the chance to fight for his freedom. Although the privilege had been denied from the outset of the war, principally because no one thought that the blacks would make good soldiers, once given the opportunity they had been expedient in proving the naysayers wrong.
Many battles had been fought since Gettysburg and each one drained more men, more resources, and more resolve from the Confederacy. Then, in March, it was clear that the U.S. Government had settled once and for all upon the general who they felt could squeeze the remaining will to fight from the South. The Senate confirmed General Grant’s nomination to Lieutenant General. No one had held the rank since George Washington. Along with being the highest ranking officer, Grant would assume the title of General-in-Chief of the Army of the United States.
It was now a matter of time and James thought often about how he would like to be on hand to see the end. However, it was exceedingly true that being at home with Polly and little James was more appealing than the prospect of seeing his native homeland in ruin. But, James knew that war is an indiscriminate monster that destroys everything in its path and he would have to take the bad in order to see the emergence of the good.
So he was torn, as torn as the nation itself, between staying home with his family and returning to the struggle. He wished he had no control over the situation. He knew that he could resign his commission for health reasons. Dr. Pierce would be only too happy to support him in that decision. He knew he could get his old job back at the bank in Mapletown. With his business education he could aim even higher. There were many opportunities for an educated young man, especially in the larger towns and cities. But he could not separate himself from the voice of his conscience; constantly being reminded of his beliefs and of the promise he’d made in 1861.
One afternoon in October, James went to see Dr. Pierce. As he approached his office, the doctor was just coming out to get into his buggy. When he saw James, he sat his bag on the seat and said, “You look like a man who has made up his mind about something.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Yes. When you’ve been a doctor for thirty-five years, you come to understand people pretty well. I know the look of determination, especially on you, James. I got to know it the first time you came to town. I am one of the few people in whom Reverend Pyle confided about the underground railway station. Sometimes the Negroes who came to his church needed medical attention. I knew from the start what you were doing, and it takes, among other things, a great deal of determination to risk your life for so unselfish a reason. That’s how I know what you’re doing here today. When are you leaving?”
“Next Monday, November 12th. I sent a telegram to the War Department in Washington. I requested an assignment that will put me under the command of General Judson Kilpatrick. He commands the 3rd Division, Cavalry Corps, and Military Division of the Mississippi. That means he’s attached to General Sherman’s army. General Sherman is in Georgia, and that is where I want to go. My request was granted. All I need is a release from you.”
“I see. I would give you a final examination, but it isn’t necessary. You have completely recovered. In fact, you have completely recovered and then some.”
“I understand, Dr. Pierce, and I thank you for all you’ve done and for all you tried to do. It will be mighty hard to leave, but I believe it will be the last time.”
“I truly hope so, James. I will send a wire to the War Department right away telling them that you are able to return to active duty. Take care of yourself, son.” He offered his hand and James shook it firmly. Without another word he turned and walked away.
That night, James had a long talk with Polly. The emotions that were present were not what he might have expected from his wife or himself. The conversation was much the same as if they were discussing what should be planted in the garden next spring. The Union armies were everywhere down south, pressing the Rebels at every point. There was scarcely a person, Northern or Southern, who couldn’t see that the end was near. Consequently, James and Polly took the position that he was going away to finish a job; that he would be back soon, and for good. Tar had been left behind in Gettysburg. James would have to take the train to Chattanooga, Tennessee and secure another mount from Quartermaster Corps and receive his orders from U.S. Army Headquarters stationed there. Then he would ride to Georgia and join Kilpatrick.
On November 12th, James, Polly, and little James walked together to the train station. James hugged and kissed his little family and climbed aboard. As the train pulled out, he stared at them through the window as they waved from the platform. In spite of everything, at the last minute he felt an almost overwhelming urge to jump off the train and run back to the station. But he kept his seat as he remembered those immortal words, “The price of commitment.”
TWENTY-THREE
Rejoining the Fold
Early on the morning of November 13th, the train pulled into the station at Chattanooga. After finding a place to have some breakfast, James reported to the headquarters of Major General Andrew J. Smith. General Smith’s adjutant, Captain Blanchard, informed him that word had reached the general’s office concerning his new assignment. “You will have to wait a bit, Lieutenant, while my clerk types a copy of your orders. Is there anything else you’ll need?”
“Yes, sir, I need a horse. My last mount was left in Gettysburg after I was wounded.” The captain stroked his mustache for a moment.
“I was not aware of your need for a horse. Let me see what I can do. Come back in two hours.”
James walked out a bit irritated at having to wait. He had already eaten and there was nothing else to do. A walk around town was the only remedy for boredom that he could come up with.
In front of a feed store he saw a wagon, a rotund, middle-aged white man sitting in the seat. The front door of the store opened and a black man came out laboring under the weight of a large sack of grain. He was struggling mightily, and when he got his load to the wagon the grain sack came down with a jolt that jerked the wagon, startling the horses. The heavyset man calmed them down with no harm done, still he was angered over the slight spooking of t
he animals.
He climbed down from the wagon, grabbed a post that supported the roof of the store and pulled himself up to the boardwalk. He brandished a whip in his right hand. Not waiting to see what would happen next, James positioned himself between the black man and the irate farmer and said, “What do you think you’re going to do with that whip?”
“What business is if of yours, blue belly?” he said. Intending to throw a scare into the man James replied, “I’m Lieutenant James Langdon, attached to the Provost Marshal’s Office in Chattanooga, and if you so much as raise that whip I’ll have you jailed.”
“On what charge?”
“Assault.” The big man was apparently not looking for trouble. He tossed the whip into the wagon and said, “OK, Lieutenant. I lost my temper. It ain’t easy to get used to.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean a man’s world being turned upside down. Yankee occupation army controlling the town, niggers are free men now. I even have to pay them to work for me.”
“It’s only fair,” said James.
“Maybe you think so. Nothing seems fair when it’s forced on you.”
“Things change. Just accept it; you’ll be a better man for it.”
“Damn your Yankee advice. I obey the law. I don’t have to agree with it.” Then he nodded his head toward the back of the wagon and pointed a finger at the black man. The man got in the wagon and sat down beside the grain sack. The disgruntled employer heaved himself into the seat and started off up the street. As James stared after the wagon, the black man raised his hand as if to thank him for his concern.
A Deeper Sense of Loyalty Page 22