Again, the mixture of emotions made it difficult for James to sleep, whenever he was afforded the opportunity. The stories that came from the slaves reinforced his belief that he was doing the right thing. Unfortunately, Lieutenant Mitchell’s predictions had been correct about the foragers. They were like outlaws in a territory where there was no one to stand against them. It was free will and free reign; whether the men came back with useful supplies or women’s dresses they had stolen, it was all the same to the officers. To James it was largely a desire to steal and destroy disguised as retribution. And it was difficult for him to watch frightened civilians trying to pack a few possessions and flee before the approaching army. As in every circumstance, the innocent were being punished with the guilty without a care as to which was which.
More and more the ability of the Confederacy to oppose the Union army was showing signs of desperation. Old men and young boys were all that was left to fill the ranks of local militia. The days of brilliant Southern victories were gone and every attempt to stem the tide ended in a defeated effort.
Near Griswoldville, an inexperienced general named P.J. Phillips attacked a single brigade of Union infantry under the command of Brigadier General Charles C. Walcutt. The Confederates outnumbered the Yankees two to one, but the advantage was offset by one regiment of the Union brigade, who carried Spencer repeating rifles. Bravery proved to be no match for firepower and the Confederates fell in waves before the fast-shooting weapons. When the battle was over, James rode out across the field. Among the Southerners who lay dead or dying, not one was of a legal age for recruitment.
At Milledgeville on November 22nd, the two wings of the army merged as planned. By afternoon, the capitol building was flying the flag of the 107th New York. The stop at the state capital was merely part of the journey, not the destination, and after a short stay the army moved on.
Once again the two wings separated and moved along on parallel routes. The speed of the march was slowed to allow more time to gather the needed supplies. It also made possible the destruction of more resources that supported the enemy. Railroad tracks, rolling stock, and grist mills were reduced to rubbish.
Nearly half the distance to Savannah was covered in ten days with only Wheeler’s cavalry amounting to any real opposition. James was not as experienced as most of his comrades; still, in his opinion, the clashes with the Confederate troopers were no small thing. For three days straight, the Yankee riders fought a series of skirmishes that together became known as the Battle of Waynesboro. On two occasions, General Kilpatrick himself was nearly captured.
Then one day, James witnessed something that would remain pressed into his mind forever. The incident occurred at Ebenezer Creek, a muddy stream about one hundred feet in width. Brigadier General Jefferson C. Davis, in charge of XIV Corps, had lost his patience with the cumbersome crowd of refugees that had come to be an unwelcome hindrance to the army. His corps was last in the column of Slocum’s left wing. The 58th Indiana had assembled a pontoon bridge across the creek. Davis crossed his men but gave orders denying the ex-slaves access to the bridge. James had been dispatched with twenty-five troopers to cover the crossing because Wheeler’s cavalry was not far behind.
When the soldiers and the cavalry detachment had crossed, Davis ordered the bridge cut loose and the slaves were stranded, cut off from the protection of the army. Terrified at being left on the same side of the creek with the Confederates, the panic stricken mob pushed forward to the edge of the bank, toppling those in front into the water. Some were lucky enough to overcome the swiftly flowing stream and swim across. But many, mostly women and children, were pulled under and drowned.
As the drama unfolded, James sat on his horse in disbelief when the temporary bridge was taken away before the eyes of the refugees. He jumped off his horse and began to yell at the engineers, but their orders had come from General Davis and he was ignored. Then he ordered some of his troopers to grab axes, cut trees, and push them into the creek. He paced the bank in a panic as in a bad dream where he was being chased, tried to run, but couldn’t. With complete disregard for his own safety, thinking only of saving lives, he dove into the water. James was a good swimmer but the current was strong and he struggled to keep his head above water. Two small children, a boy and a girl, were drifting straight toward him. Just before they were within reach they went under. James dove down, flailing blindly with his arms, trying desperately to locate the children. Suddenly he felt a leg and then another. Pushing for the surface, he brought both children, who had been hugging each other, up from the murky water, coughing and gasping for breath. While kicking mightily, he managed to get the young girl on his back and hold the boy with one arm as he tried to swim with the other. He was in mid-stream and it looked to James that safety was a mile away. His strength was nearly gone and he harnessed every bit of what was left, but his burden was too great, the current too strong.
Just when he felt himself about to sink to the depths, something struck his arm. He realized that it was a rope with a large loop on the end. He slipped the loop over his head and under his armpits, still keeping the children’s heads above water. Then someone on the other end started to pull.
When they reached the bank, James was able to grab onto enough roots and grass and hold on but he was exhausted. A pair of hands came down and lifted the girl from his back. Likewise, the boy was lifted out, then a hand was extended to him. For the first time, he looked up and there was Lieutenant Alvin Mitchell.
“Where did you come from?” asked James.
“I was riding in a wagon at the end of the column. I saw you kick off your boots and dive into the creek. I grabbed a rope and came running; I was afraid you’d be swept away.”
“I owe you, Mitch. If not for your quick thinking I would have sunk to the bottom with those children still clinging to me.”
“You don’t owe me, my friend, we’re even.”
James sat on the bank of Ebenezer Creek while the deadly fiasco continued. Mitch sat down beside him and put an arm across his shoulder. “You did all you could, James. These poor souls would rather die as free men than live as slaves.”
The army marched away toward Savannah. Mitch got James to his feet and back on his horse. Then he climbed up behind him to get a ride back to his place in the wagon. About a hundred yards from the creek they heard the sound of gunshots behind them. Looking back they saw that Wheeler’s cavalry had appeared on the far bank and they were herding the remaining refugees back into slavery. “They won’t go back for long,” said Mitch. “These Rebs are living off their last breath. They will have to surrender soon”
“I hope you’re right, Mitch.”
He gave James a reassuring slap on the shoulder. “Let’s go, James. Savannah is only twenty miles ahead.”
After the death of Corporal Thomas Milroy, James promised himself he would never befriend another man as long as the war lasted. But after the incident at the creek, he changed his mind.
TWENTY-FIVE
Surprises in Savannah
When Sherman’s army pulled up four miles from Savannah, it looked as though, in all probability, a bloody conflict would be necessary before the city could be taken. Ten thousand men under the command of General William Hardee were inside. The city had been well prepared with formidable earthworks bolstered by artillery. To Hardee, Sherman issued an ultimatum to surrender without delay or suffer the consequences, but Hardee refused.
General Beauregard, who had entered the city before Sherman arrived, ordered Hardee to build a pontoon bridge across the Savannah River so that his men could escape to South Carolina. Beauregard did not want to risk capture of the army, as it would be needed if Sherman himself headed north toward the Carolinas.
Consequently, by December 19th, the escape bridge had been completed. To confuse Sherman, Hardee commenced a bombardment on December 20th and continued the shelling while his army evacuated Savannah. When the last Rebels crossed over, the bridge was cut loose and se
t adrift in the river. Not only was the city taken without a shot, but even more surprising was the reception the army received from Mayor Richard Arnold. Understanding the better part of valor, the mayor favored welcoming the Union troops to having his city destroyed needlessly. It was a feeling shared by most of the war-weary citizens. Even though it still had to be taken with a spoonful of sugar to get it down, most of the people humored the invaders with Southern charm and hospitality.
Sherman reciprocated by keeping his men in line with drilling, inspections, and parades. In addition, small cavalry patrols of three troopers roamed the streets day and night to make sure that the peace was maintained.
One evening, shortly before dark, James was on patrol along the water front with two other men: Sergeant Watson and Corporal Reeves. Looking ahead as they walked their horses along the street, James could see what looked like an altercation between a soldier and a female. The woman was making dramatic gestures with both hands, and as James got closer he saw the soldier push her against the wall of a house and pin her there with his body. Spurring his horse and urging his companions to do the same, he galloped down the street and stopped abruptly at the scene. He climbed down from Goliath’s back, ran over, and pulled the soldier backwards, knocking him to the sidewalk. The soldier, who was intoxicated, struggled to his feet and threw a roundhouse right at James’s head. The punch was easily avoided and as the ruffian’s momentum carried him almost one hundred eighty degrees from loss of balance and missing his target; James put him face down in the street. While the troublemaker squirmed, cursed, and pleaded his case, Sergeant Watson clapped a set of manacles on his wrists. Then the sergeant, with the help of Corporal Reeves, hauled the unruly drunk to his feet. “Take this man to the guardhouse, Sergeant,” said James. “Make him walk ahead of your horse.”
“Yes, sir,” Watson replied. “He can walk off some of that popskull.”
“Go along, Corporal. I’ll catch up to you later.” The troopers saluted, mounted their horses, and started the prisoner up the street.
James turned back to offer apologies to the young woman who had been accosted but she had already walked away. After checking left and right, he saw her about two blocks up the street moving at a brisk pace. Darkness had fallen and the street lights had been lit. Perhaps, thought James, he should offer to escort her home.
He mounted his horse and rode up the street, stopping a few yards ahead of the young woman. As she came abreast of him he began making his apologies for the rude behavior of the intoxicated soldier when his words suddenly failed him. Almost simultaneously the young woman’s mouth dropped open and she stood transfixed and speechless. James was the first to recover his faculties and in a tone of astonishment he said, “Kate!”
On the list he could have written of things he wouldn’t have expected, near the top would have been finding his youngest sister in Savannah. When her initial shock had passed, she, too, found her voice. “James?”
Their family bonds ran deep, and commanded by her natural inclination, she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed harder than James would have thought possible. Then she backed away and he knew that Kate was appalled by his uniform. “It’s true,” she said. “Everyone hoped and prayed that somehow it wasn’t, but it’s true. You’re a Yankee. The South is dying, your friends and family are dying, and you are on the side that is killing them.”
James had no idea how to respond. Even if he had been given a week to prepare, he still wouldn’t have known what to say. But he knew he had to think of something quick lest she turn and run away. “Let me try to explain, Kate. I beg you to let me try to explain.”
Tears were already filling her eyes. He feared she was going to reject his plea, but she said, “I’ll listen. What is it that you want to say?”
“My words and my actions are controlled by my heart and by my conscience. They dominate so completely that I am powerless against them. Ever since I was old enough to understand the meaning of the word, I could not condone the institution of slavery. I always knew in my heart that it was wrong and my conscience would not allow me to forget it. No man has the right to take the life of another man. That is why murder is illegal. So how can it be right to take a man’s life by robbing him of his freedom? Without freedom there is no life, just existence. How is it right to work that man without mercy day in and day out; to beat him and sell his wife and children? The crime of murder pales in comparison to forcing a man into slavery, in fact, it might be considered merciful. I learned something else that I didn’t realize when I was growing up, something that is even worse than slavery itself. Those who believe in it not only see the Negroes as being unequal to whites; they do not recognize them as human beings. Do you understand what that means, Kate? It means that they have taken it upon themselves to play God. Where did they ever find such audacity? As people, the black race may have a different skin color, a different heritage, and a different culture. As a species, they are the same as whites or Indians or Chinamen. They have the same feelings, needs, likes, and dislikes.
“I feel like a fool now for believing, but Father had me convinced that the Negroes on our plantation worked for a share of what they produced. Should I be blamed for trusting my own father? But he kept all of us miles away so that we could not see what was really going on. He even deceived Mother. On my eighteenth birthday I found out the truth. I broke the rules and rode to the compound to see him. Without his knowledge, I witnessed the savage whipping of a black man named Bo Sampson. He had been caught trying to escape. Farley Tabor started the punishment and then . . . father took his turn with the whip. I saw him in a way I’d never seen before. I was sickened by the sight of it. I left for home without seeing him. He caught up to me on the road and admitted everything. I don’t know what I would have done if the war hadn’t come. I do know that I would never have let him turn me into a slave owner. When the war did come, I knew that I could never fight for the Confederacy. So I deceived Father as he deceived me. For over a year after leaving home, I helped slaves escape and then took them north to freedom. After President Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation I joined the Union army because the war became a struggle for the freedom of all men. My fight has been against slavery, nothing more.”
James held his breath and waited to see how Kate would respond.
She said, “Why did Father keep it a secret?”
“He said that Mother’s family never owned slaves. You know how sensitive Mother is.”
Kate winced; James continued. “I believe that he knew it would be difficult for her to be a party to slavery. I know now that it also concerns an experience that I had when I was seven years old. I guess like slavery itself, he started something and held on to it, knowing that it might one day explode in his hands. I am sorry for the way things turned out. Maybe someday Father will be sorry, too. Sometimes we must apologize for what we are. Can you understand my reasons?”
James had nothing more to say. Now it was up to Kate. She was silent for a time. The meeting had taken them both off guard. Maybe it was all too overwhelming for a girl so young, only seventeen. Then she took her turn to speak and James slowly realized that she was no longer the giddy, immature little sister he’d left behind.
“I do understand, James, and I want you to know that I do not hate you. I never did, even when the whispered rumors began. As you said, Father kept us away from the harsh realities of slavery. I suppose that he was following a way of life that started generations ago. Sooner or later that way of life had to be broken either by war or by someone as conscientious as you. I despise the war and what it’s done to the South. I despise the wasteful destruction that’s been done to human life and property. I understand the concept of slavery, even if I didn’t see it at home. Like you, I do not condone it and I suffer a certain sense of shame that the South has kept such a despicable crime as part of their way of life. The time has finally come for retribution and it has come with a vengeance.
“When our cousin,
Jefferson, came home from the war, we found out that you were with the Union. I’m sorry I reacted badly when I first saw you, James. No matter what my feelings are about slavery, it is still difficult to see you in what is considered here to be an enemy uniform. Father had already had his suspicions but when Jefferson came home, we knew for sure.”
“I’m glad that he survived,” James interrupted. “I found him on the battlefield at Gettysburg. I was going for help when I was shot. I never knew what happened. He told me about Franklin, Clark, and Jessie. He also told me that Mother and Father were not faring well.”
“Father took the news about you very hard. I think he lost a part of himself that day. Mother grew weaker and more distraught from worrying about him and worrying about you. She wouldn’t eat. As the war news got worse, so did both of them. Ashton and I tried to care for them; by that time, all of the women of the house were gone. Husbands and sons died in the war and one by one, the women just went away.
“Ashton was close to breaking down. Without telling anyone, she married an Englishman, a blockade runner she’d met in Macon. He had come here after the start of the war to make his fortune as a smuggler. She had only known him for a week. It was Ashton’s hope that he would take her to England, at least until the end of the war. But he only took her as far as Virginia. One night his vessel was attacked by a Union warship and he was killed. Now she lives alone somewhere near Winchester. We haven’t heard from her in almost a year.
“When Lincoln freed the slaves, the plantation collapsed. All of the white men who worked for father were taken for the service and the Negroes started running away. Soon after, all that was left was Uncle Stanley, Uncle Joseph, and Father. They were ruined. It was all they could do to farm a small plot of land to raise food for their tables.” Then Kate stopped for a moment. James knew she had more to say but the further she went, the more difficult it became.
A Deeper Sense of Loyalty Page 24