The Face of Heaven

by Murray Pura

  I have mentioned President Lincoln several times in this note. He is here now. The Amish Brigade, as I call it because Nathaniel, Levi, and Joshua are in it (though the newspapers call it the Iron Brigade) was formed up for hours yesterday in the hot sun. However, Mr. Lincoln and General McClellan did not appear. That was an aggravating experience for the troops. Everyone says we shall see the president today but so far nothing has occurred in that respect. I have a great deal to do when it comes to the wounded in any case—

  “Lyndel!”

  “I’m in our tent writing a letter, Davey!” called Lyndel.

  “The boys are forming up in the field. President Lincoln really is here this time. Hurry!”

  The men stood in straight rows, regiment by regiment, backs straight but uniforms faded and tattered. Lyndel realized there were nowhere near the numbers there should have been. The president looked rugged in his untrimmed beard and black suit, his face sunburned, but his step steady and sure on the green grass. The reek of dead horses left where they had been killed during the battle two weeks before saturated the warm air. The president didn’t appear to notice. With General McClellan beside him he gazed long and hard at the ragged but proud appearance of the Iron Brigade and Lyndel saw the pain pass over his face.

  The flags of the four regiments, many of them full of bullet holes, some shot to pieces, dipped in salute to the president of the United States. Lincoln, tall black hat in his hands, bowed low in response. Lyndel saw Nathaniel formed up with his platoon, Captain Hanson and Lieutenant Nicolson on one side of him, Ham a corporal now, on the other. It seemed to her that Lincoln searched out the platoon in the formation and rested his eyes on Nathaniel, Levi, and Joshua, as if someone had pointed out these were three Amish boys who had taken up arms to preserve the Union.

  Perhaps I have imagined it, she thought.

  Lyndel was gathered off to the side with the 19th Indiana’s quartermaster and surgeons and chaplains. The president slowly made his way toward them. Briefly he shook a few hands. Then he spotted Lyndel and Morganne and inclined his head.

  “The nurses of the Indiana regiment.”

  “Mr. President,” they both replied at the same time, bowing their heads and each making an attempt at a curtsy.

  “This was a terrible ordeal for you,” he said.

  “It was an honor to help these soldiers, sir,” Lyndel said. “They bore the brunt of the battle. To have saved some from the bullets and shell-fire is a privilege.”

  Lincoln nodded. “I see that by the look in your faces. You do not find the field conditions too rough? You have been encamped here more than two weeks.”

  “They are not rough, Mr. President,” Morganne spoke up. “The troops afford us every amenity they possibly can. They treat us as if we were their own sisters with all grace and respect.”

  A smile came to Lincoln’s face. “Do they? I’m sure you’ve done your best by them to deserve it.” He nodded as he walked away. “Perhaps I may not have to meet you under such circumstances again if the fortunes of war favor us.”

  “We shall pray to that end, sir,” Lyndel said as the president moved slowly on.

  That evening Nathaniel came as he usually did to the primitive hospital that had been set up not far from Miller’s farm where Lyndel and Morganne also had their tent. Since he was bivouacked with his men near the Potomac he didn’t have far to walk. Lyndel and Nathaniel made their way along the Hagerstown Turnpike but didn’t hold hands.

  “Sometimes I feel guilty,” Nathaniel said. “I can have my evenings with my sweetheart while other men cannot.”

  “I understand,” she replied. “Would you rather we did away with these walks altogether?”

  “Oh,” he said with a laugh. “I don’t feel that guilty, Miss Keim. I guess if they could, my men would do the same as I’m doing right now, so I’m not ready to let go of you just yet.”

  “I’m glad. According to Hiram we may have little enough time left together as it is.”

  Nathaniel made a face. “What’s his latest theory?”

  “Pouting makes you less handsome,” she teased.

  “Does he have us on the march by the end of the week?”

  “It’s Friday now. That would be short notice indeed. He believes your brigade will receive substantial reinforcements in a few days and that you’ll be back in Virginia by early November.”

  “Under McClellan?”

  She picked up a long stick and pretended for a few moments that she was moving cattle, swishing it about in the air. “Well, for all the affection the men hold for the general, it’s not generally shared by those in the capital, according to Hiram. Congress feels he should have gone after Lee the day following the battle and torn the Army of Northern Virginia to pieces. It might have ended the war then.”

  “It certainly would have killed more men.”

  Lyndel’s look darkened with the sunset. “I know. It’s so easy to talk when you’re seated in a warm room far from the shellfire. But Hiram’s sources tell him that if McClellan continues to find excuses not to pursue Lee’s army it will be his undoing. Hooker or Burnside may be given orders to take his place.”

  “Hooker or Burnside?”

  “I don’t mean to upset you. Let’s talk about something else. What did your men think of Mr. Lincoln’s visit today?”

  “It was better than the one yesterday when he didn’t show up,” Nathaniel said. “They’re not much for standing out in the hot sun like blades of grass. But they allow as Lincoln is one of us since he wears a tall black hat.”

  Lyndel laughed and Nathaniel took pleasure in seeing her eyes shine. So often her eyes were tinged with the pain of those who tend the dead and the dying.

  “Mail came today,” Nathaniel mentioned as they continued to stroll, horses and soldiers moving by on either side of them. “Did you hear anything from your mother or father?”

  “I wrote them and sent it off. But I don’t know why I bother, Nathaniel. They’re not talking to me.”

  “You think they’ve shunned you and your brother?”

  “Levi has taken up arms. He has fought in a battle and killed other men. Most certainly he is shunned.”

  “But you—”

  “I’m a nurse who contributes to the war, you know that. I help nurture men back to health and some of them return to their units to fight.”

  “I suppose your being with me has something to do with their silence.”

  Lyndel swung her stick back and forth. “You’ve been shunned for almost a year and I’m speaking with you and…consorting with you. Most certainly that’s another good reason for Bishop Keim to enforce the Meidung.”

  “Still, they might have sent you a letter to explain their thinking rather than leave you in the dark.”

  Lyndel made a final swipe and tossed her stick to the side of the road. “Ja.”

  Nathaniel coughed. “Here come the other lovebirds. It looks like they might have walked clear to the Pennsylvania border and back.”

  Lyndel squinted. “How can you tell who that is? It just looks like two black specks to me. You must have the eyes of a falcon.”

  “Hiram has a particular swagger.”

  It was indeed Hiram and Morganne. Once the two couples came within greeting distance of one another, Morganne began to talk rapidly, her face a mixture of pleasure and annoyance. “Hiram has been relating to me the most astonishing things.”

  Nathaniel smiled. “If he didn’t, you would soon realize Hiram Wright wasn’t the man courting you.”

  Morganne’s blue eyes narrowed. “No one is being courted, Nathaniel King. However I am being dazzled and bewildered. Mr. Wright here claims General McClellan is against emancipation of the slaves. That he said he would turn runaway slaves around and send them back to their rightful owners.”

  Hiram shrugged. “Anyone who covers Washington politics knows that. The general believes slavery’s a constitutional right. Our constitution, not just Jeff Davis’s. Lincoln felt th
e same way until this past summer.”

  Morganne folded her arms over her chest. “You see?”

  “Go read his speeches in the papers. Plain as day, the president said if he could preserve the Union without ending slavery he would do it and had no intention of interfering with it.”

  Lyndel saw that Nathaniel’s face looked very sharp-edged. “Why did he change his mind then?”

  “Our losses in Virginia,” replied Hiram. “He realizes it’s going to be hard to defeat the rebellion. So freeing the slaves in the Confederate states is a blow against the South’s culture and its cotton industry. It also alienates France and Britain from the Confederacy. Lincoln is a good man, Nathaniel, but he’s a politician and a war president and his priority is to win the war and save the Union. I honestly don’t know how much he cares for the plight of the slave apart from that.”

  “Only God knows the heart of a man, Hiram. I doubt President Lincoln knows himself what he really believes about all the matters at hand. But if what you say is true, I will pray he changes his mind one more time.”

  Hiram shook his head. “So he can be like your Amish platoon? A lot of the Northern boys don’t think much of the African race, Nathaniel.”

  “I’ve heard the talk,” Nathaniel replied. “That too can change just as the president can change.”

  Hiram had a look of disgust on his face. “With prayers and hymn singing?”

  Nathaniel’s face was cold. “Yes.”

  “I wish,” Lyndel quickly interrupted, “this had all been dealt with in 1776.”

  Hiram, aware he had offended Nathaniel, awkwardly put his hands in his pockets and looked away from his friend to Lyndel. “It was. Thomas Jefferson put the clause in the Declaration of Independence. Or perhaps Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Paine worked hard to make sure it was there. It doesn’t matter. A lot of American patriots wanted a clean start for our country when it came to slavery. But South Carolina and Georgia wouldn’t join the Union against Great Britain unless slavery in the colonies was retained. So the Declaration was mangled for their sakes. The Continental Congress never even knew about the antislavery cause, they never debated it, they never put it to the vote.”

  “So then we’re fighting a second revolution to correct the errors of the first,” Nathaniel said. “Whether Abraham Lincoln is aware of it yet or not, the day will come when he’ll know the truth of this in his heart and soul. You talk about McClellan saying he would return all runaway slaves to their rightful owner? Good. Their rightful owner is God. That’s what me and my Amish platoon are fighting for, Hiram. But you’re mistaken if you think we’re the only ones.”

  He moved ahead along the turnpike and Lyndel rushed to keep up with his long strides.

  “I hope you’re not angry with me,” she said.

  “Why should I be angry with you? Hiram fills his head with too many words and arguments. He’s smart about some things but not so smart about others. And he always leaves God out of it. As if anything worthwhile is going to happen without prayer and faith.” He suddenly stopped walking and looked at Lyndel. “I’m sorry. Fifteen minutes ago the only thing that was in my head was wanting to ask if you would be coming with the brigade when we march.”

  Lyndel put her hand on his arm. “When the surgeons pack up I pack up too. We may not leave on the very same day, Nathaniel, but the doctors and ambulance corps will not be far behind the army. And neither will I.”

  “I love you, Lyndel Keim. You know that?”

  “Ja, I know it.”

  He put his arms around her. “Hiram told me we would be on our way to Virginia before the end of the month. But I’d like more time here with you. Perhaps he’s wrong about the marching just as he’s wrong about how many of us are fighting for a nation free of slavery and slaveholders.”

  But Hiram wasn’t wrong about the brigade’s marching orders. They moved out of their bivouac on October 20th and left the cornfield and the Dunker Church and Dave Miller’s farm behind them, slogging through torrents of rain and days of heat, until they crossed into Virginia on the 30th of October, a new regiment of recruits marching with them, the 24th Michigan. Not long after, Lyndel, Morganne, Hiram, and the ambulance corps followed the brigade along the same muddy roads, Lyndel parting company with her friends for a night and taking a wagon into Washington to gather fresh supplies.

  Her old residence was quiet but the butler knew her well and let her in. He said the Palmer family had retired but that her room was always left clean and ready should she come in from the battlefront and require it. Smiling her thanks, Lyndel walked softly up the curving staircase to the second floor carrying a candle he offered her. Opening the door to her room she was startled to see a lamp lit on a table and make out a figure seated in a chair.

  “Who are you, sir?” she demanded.

  The man turned up the lamp so that she could clearly see his face.

  “Have you and I changed so much in one year,” he said, “that you no longer know your own father?”

  15

  They held each other tightly. Lyndel felt tears come quickly, as did her father. His hug almost made her bones crack, but to her it was a welcome sensation.

  Over and over again he spoke in Pennsylvania Dutch of how much he loved her and how Lyndel’s mother pined for her and her brother Levi.

  “Papa.” Lyndel smiled as her eyes continued to fill. “It’s so good to see you. But it’s such a long journey for you.”

  Bishop Keim stepped back and used his handkerchief to wipe at his face. “I’ve been in Washington a week. I knew the army was on the march and I hoped I might catch you here. I pestered them at the Armory Square Hospital until they told me where your lodgings were. Your hosts have been good enough to give me a room. I was standing at my window when I saw you come up the drive in the wagon.” He stopped to smile again, then added, “I quickly came up here to surprise you.”

  “You certainly did that, Papa.”

  “I knew I wouldn’t be able to see Levi but I thank God he has brought us together.”

  “Ja. Gelobt sei Gott.”

  He nodded and put the handkerchief away in a pocket. “Your mother and I have been praying about this trip for weeks. You might have carried on with the army and gone into Virginia but God has arranged for you to be here.” He paused. “I have come to bring you home.”

  Lyndel stared at him. “What did you say?”

  “If I could bring Levi with us I would, but he has enlisted. You have not. You have done your best to alleviate others’ suffering. It is enough now. You are only making the war worse. It is time to return to Pennsylvania.”

  Lyndel felt a sharp cut inside. “I’m not making the war worse, Papa.”

  “Of course you are. You patch them up. They return to their regiments, ja? Fight again. Kill again.”

  “Many of them go home to their families.”

  He lowered his voice. “Let us speak softly. Our hosts are asleep. Your mother and I have discussed this. Asked of the Lord. It is prayer that brought me here.”

  “Papa. It is prayer that brought me here as well.”

  “Please pack your things. There is a train to Harrisburg in a few hours.”

  “I hope you are not serious about this.”

  “Ja, I am serious. Why would I travel all this way and leave your mother, who is already alone enough?”

  “But—I am of age now—and doing what I feel the Lord wishes me to do—the surgeons and the other nurses count on me—there will be more fighting—more wounded.”

  He folded his hands in front of him. “Ja. And more fighting and more fighting. The conflict will drag on for years. Why did any of us expect it to be over in a few months? These are Americans battling Americans. Neither side will easily surrender. Never.”

  Lyndel felt the skin on her face tighten. “All the more reason to have experienced nurses to help with the casualties. Many more lives may be saved.”

  His eyes darkened. “Do you enjoy it so much, daugh
ter?”

  Heat filled her head in an instant. “No one loves to see men die—no general, no soldier, not President Lincoln or Jefferson Davis. The slaughter at Antietam Creek was terrible. If the next battle is the last battle, I thank God. But until it is over I must heal men. Not sit back from a safe distance and watch them bleed and cry out for water while their wounds suck their life from them.”

  “Healing. This is not what Jesus did. Show me where he placed his hands on injured soldiers so that they could return to the battlefield.”

  “Did he not heal the Roman centurion’s servant? When did he tell the officer to stop being a soldier?”

  “So and you will lecture me about David and Jonathan and Gideon next. I am not here for a debate. You do not understand. If you do not return with me it is finished.”

  “What is finished?”

  “You and I are finished. Your brother and I are finished.” The lamp flared and his eyes flared with the leap of the flame. “Already the people blame not only Nathaniel King and Corinth, now gone from us forever, for setting the example that caused others to stumble. They point the finger at you. They point the finger at Levi. I am the bishop of the church and they accuse my children of dragging others into sin.” He turned his back on her and began to pace the bedroom. “Even Abraham Yoder confesses he harbors bitterness in his heart. He feels young Joshua would still be on the farm but for his letters back and forth with Levi.”

  “Oh, Papa, that’s not fair. Joshua was caught up in the affair between the South and the North from the beginning. Always scanning the papers. Debating with others. He even read the Confederate constitution.”

  “It doesn’t matter what he did beforehand. It was all a young man’s talk. But Levi convinced him to take up the bayonet.”

  “No—”

  “Abraham showed me the letters from Levi that Joshua left behind in his room.”

  Her father paused to look out the window at the street. “So I ask you to return with me. Confess your sin. Repent. Then there will be no shunning or excommunication. You can write your brother and young Joshua, write Nathaniel, one final time and implore them to turn from violence and the gun to a life of peace and prayer. The church will look favorably on your act of contrition.”