We left Ste. Genevieve on board the Chateau, March 14th, bound for New Madrid. The Mississippi and the Ohio were tolerable full. A few miles before we came to the mouth of the Ohio, the Mississippi was running over the bottoms.
When we arrived at New Madrid we found the Iowa 38th Regiment there. They don’t know beans about war. They had not marched five miles since they have been in the service. We opened their eyes when we told them what we had been through. The inhabitants there had done as they pleased with the 38th. They said the women would run the boys off the guard lines and the men would sauce them. When we arrived, it all changed. The people paid attention to us because we didn’t let them get away with anything. I would have liked to see the women run our boys. They would have been apt to get a bayonet stuck in them where it would not have hurt them very bad. From what I hear, our 23rd is the hardest regiment out. We got that name but we would have to knock under to the 1st Nebraska Regiment as we learned from them.
On March 17th there was a fleet of six boats bound for Vicksburg. The gunboat with them was in the fight at Memphis and at the fight when the Arkansas ran through our fleet. She has two or three more holes in her that the Rebels threw her but it did not damage her. I could see where the musketry had peppered her pretty well.
We were looking for a boat to take us down the river to Vicksburg. I feared the Rebels would move beyond Vicksburg but our men did a good job of driving them back. I was in hopes we would make a clean sweep of Vicksburg but was doubtful that we could.
We heard that evening the Rebels were vacating Vicksburg and had raised a flag of truce. That was bad news. I think probably you would not have thought so but you don’t know anything about war. I know by experience that it would have been bad news. There were seven thousand troops called from Memphis to Vicksburg.
I was out from camp that day and had talked to three Negroes that were plowing and they told me their master was as fearful of the Iowa 23rd as I am of a snake and that when the news would come for us to leave there they had an idea that their master would be sitting in his house a’clapping his hands for joy. They told me since we had arrived the only time their master went outside his house was to piss and then he would go quickly back into his den. If General Davidson had been with us that man would have had to prove himself a Union man or else he would have been sent to St. Louis to answer. That was the principle we worked on when we were running through Missouri.
We left Milliken’s Bend, Louisiana, on April 12th. I thought the army at Vicksburg was running a narrow risk of being captured from the appearance of things there then. It is my opinion this war can’t last much longer than fall. Deserters that come from Vicksburg say the Rebels have nothing to eat but corn bread and mule meat and reports are they’re dying so fast in Vicksburg they can hardly get plank enough to bury them decent.
About April 8th, the Rebels at Vicksburg had a fight among themselves. They say it is tense there. The Rebel conscripts threw down their arms and the remainder tried to compel them to take up their arms and fight. Instead they took up their arms and pitched into the Rebels and before it was over they had killed a hundred and fifty of them and spiked their guns. If that is the case, it is good news to us.
One Captain went into Vicksburg and spied around for two days and nights and came out unhurt and without suspicion. One of the Rebel Lieutenants had come out of Vicksburg on a pass as a spy and he gave himself up to our men. Our Captain changed clothes with him, got his pass and went into Vicksburg. This Lieutenant told us there are Rebel deserters every day and they surrender to our army.
When we left New Madrid on March 22nd and started for Memphis I saw peach trees in bloom, and the timber began to look green. On the 28th, we boarded a boat and were on board very nigh to ten days and we had a very hard time of it. We were like a lot of hogs. When night came the boys began to hunt their nests. Some would crawl under the boilers and some in some corner or another. Those who could not find such places would sleep on the stone coal and you know what kind of bed that would make. Others might just sit up and try to sleep. We were in two storms while on the boat. It would be very windy and the waves would run high. The old boat would creak and bend as she plowed her way ahead. On that Saturday night, we ran to shore and cast anchor. In the night a storm came up and it blew us down river in a lot of brush and saplings, the river being very high and overflowing the bottoms and running all over creation. We got up steam and kept her there until the morning light and then went ahead again.
We came across several of the Iowa regiments at Lake Providence and I got to see some of the boys I know.
Troops were camped along the river for nigh a hundred miles this side of Vicksburg. We are now nine miles from Vicksburg and about seventeen miles by water. I can hear the cannons belch at Vicksburg every day. There will be a big fight before many weeks and I think Vicksburg will fall sooner or later.
We are in General Grant’s Army with the 21st, 22nd, 23rd Iowa Regiments, the 11th Wisconsin and another regiment that I do not know the name of. The 8th and 18th Indiana and the 33rd and 93rd Illinois and the 1st United States Regulars constitute another brigade. The above ten regiments constitute the 14th Division of the 13th United States Army Corps.
You have probably heard lots of stories about General Grant, the main one being he is a cigar-smoking, whiskey-drinking SOB. I do not see that as the case. He is a shrewd leader and I am happy to be under his command. They say that in many battles he is right there with his boys fighting to the last musket fire. If he is a drunken general then all brigades should be so lucky.
We had a Grand Review with General Grant and all I could see as far as I could see were soldiers. There seemed no end to them. The General looked mighty. His erect carriage and fine horsemanship added to the pleasure of seeing a pleasant face before us.
I had the opportunity of having a few words with him while sharing cups of coffee and biscuits. His manner was friendly and conservative. Not so with his Chief of Staff, Rawlins. I must say Rawlins was somewhat coarse and vulgar in contrast to General Grant. I was honored to have had the opportunity to speak with the General. Although he did not speak about war strategy I feel very confident to be under his command. He will lead us to victory, of that, I have no doubt. He seems to have the ability to divine the position of the enemy and meet them head on.
As we came down the river, I saw a plantation with buildings on it that would make a good size town in Iowa and it all belonged to one man. The Negro housing was a great deal better than a majority of houses in Iowa. A great many of the boys would inquire what town it was and would be told it was a plantation.
We are now camped on a very large plantation. The proprietor has about two hundred and fifty working Negroes. He planted ten hundred acres of corn last year, which principally went to Vicksburg-and another thirteen hundred acres of cotton but I cannot tell you where that went. The story that the Negroes tell us is that they are treated fairly well by this owner. He is now a strong Union sympathizer and many of them tell us they would not leave here even if the war was over and the Union was again united. They must be the lucky ones because that is not the story we always hear. A few Negroes in other places have told us of their bad treatment by their owners. Families are often separated when an owner thinks he can get a fair price for one of his slaves. I’ve been shown the deep scars of a whip across the back and even one Negro had been whipped across his face and lost one eye. It pains me to think some of these Negroes are treated much worse than one would treat an old mean crazed dog. No man should have to suffer at the hands of another. You tell Pap Lincoln is right. This country needs equality and I suppose that is why I am a Union soldier. I hear many Northerners are against the Negroes being armed but I think it is a good thing. I hear we will have Colored troops here soon. We will see if they make good soldiers. It is said they have great gusto to fight.
The last plantation we stayed on was owned by a Rebel Colonel that was killed in the Battle of Shiloh.
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I do not know what the next days will bring but I want you to know, Janie, I love you dearly. Give my son a hug from his Daddy. The time must be getting close for the baby to arrive or maybe by now it has. Tell Pap I am out here fighting for a good cause. If I do not make it through this war, please see to it Janie, that my name is never forgotten and that my memory remains in your heart. I know that wherever I am, or wherever I will be, you will be in my heart.
Your loving husband,
Silas
Chapter Nine: Madeline
A light spring rain was falling on the eastern Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. The plantation owners welcomed the rain as nourishment for their growing crops. Farming was of the utmost importance in the rich agricultural valley due to the fact that food to feed the Confederate troops was becoming scarce.
The Confederate troops were not happy to see the rain and their minds were definitely not on the benefit that crops might gain by the unexpected rain. For any soldier, bad weather did nothing but make his job more difficult. For many of those at camp it was an opportunity to lay their weapons down and stay under cover of tents and play cards while awaiting orders to move out.
Not far away from camp a handful of Confederate officers were enjoying the luxurious comfort offered by plantation owner, Lawrence Taylor.
Taylor Hills was a large plantation consisting of hundreds of acres of hearty crops, apple orchards, along with a large number of horses whose numbers had thinned considerably as Lawrence Taylor sold them off to the Confederate army. Barns, horse stalls, corrals, and several outbuildings were located on the property. His slave holdings numbered about sixty. On a small rise at the north end of the plantation sat a large and stately Georgian Brick mansion, surrounded by tulip, poplar, oak and chestnut trees.
At Taylor Hills, Madeline McCord Taylor lived alone with her husband, Lawrence, eighteen years her senior. The affluent lifestyle to which Madeline had become accustomed within the residence was in sharp contrast to the life she had left behind in Iowa nearly thirteen years before.
Time and again, Madeline yearned for the simple farm life of the Iowa prairie. When Lawrence had asked her to marry him, she was flattered and in her naivety believed what he offered far outweighed what she might encounter in a small Iowa town. But she was soon to discover the grass was not greener on the side of the fence which she had chosen. Lawrence had given her everything her heart desired with the exception of two things. Madeline desperately wanted children. For some reason that had not happened and she could only fault her husband as his first marriage had been barren. The second thing she did not receive from her husband was any real intimacy in their relationship. Although Madeline had to admit to herself that Lawrence seemed fond of her, the closeness she expected within a marriage was absent. At times the lack of intimacy had caused her a great deal of pain. After the first three or four years of her marriage she learned to let go of any expectation that her marriage might be different. In place of children, she filled the void with pet dogs and a horse she dearly loved.
As for the lack of intimacy, Madeline had never found a way to fill that emptiness although she had been tempted more than once by the attention of another man or two. Lawrence was extremely jealous and she knew she was tempting fate to indulge in any illicit encounters.
She often had the attention of the male gender. Tall and slender, she moved with a graceful flare. Her facial bones were delicately carved, her mouth full, and tendrils of color falling down softly from auburn upswept hair set off hazel-green eyes. When dressed in a gown of emerald green, as she was on this evening, she was breathtaking.
And obviously, most of the men gathered at the dinner table had taken notice of the beauty of their hostess. Lawrence Taylor, not a handsome man in any conventional sense, his hair graying at the temples, a face worn by the years, sat at the head of the elegant walnut dining room table and Madeline was seated to his left. At the opposite end of the table was Allan Jenkins, a topnotch Virginia lawyer. The side chairs were filled by officers of the Confederate army and two Virginia politicians.
As always, Madeline knew that Lawrence commanded the attention of others, and tonight was no different. Oh, she supposed she was not being fair to him. He was, after all, a very intelligent man as his dark eyes revealed. He was quick witted, sharp on detail, but his perfectionist personality often annoyed her.
Madeline was aware that Lawrence was somewhat irritated by the attention she was receiving from the men but especially from Lieutenant William Edson who was seated next to her. She had caught more than once the disapproving glance of her husband. The Lieutenant was a handsome man, a well-spoken gentleman and she was enjoying every moment of her conversation with him.
Throughout the main course of dinner, conversation had been light. The men were here at her home to discuss war issues but she supposed out of consideration and politeness they avoided the subject of war during dinner. These dinners had become fairly common place in the Taylor home since the Confederate forces had made their presence known in the Shenandoah Valley.
For the most part, she would have preferred to have had her dinner alone in the kitchen but, of course, that would have been out of the question. She was hostess and anything less would not have been tolerated by her husband. Despite his jealousy, Lawrence delighted in showing his lovely wife to the world, especially to men, and he had always told her that. But to her it seemed like nothing more than a game to him, another way he could feel powerful and in control. Lawrence, she believed, considered her to be merely another extravagant possession. He insisted she buy the most expensive fine materials for her gowns, and accessorize them with expensive gems and imported fabrics and laces. It was not that she minded having such nice things. She loved wearing them but she did not like the feeling of being his possession—something he had bought—like one of his champion horses or one of his slaves.
But she also had other reasons for wanting to be present when they entertained Confederate military officers.
She had to admit, though, there were times when she enjoyed all the attention she received from men. After all, she was now a Southern lady and she might as well enjoy the role as many of the Southern women did who she had come to know since she arrived in Virginia. From her observations, many of these women enjoyed the game of innocent flirtation and building up unspoken sexual tension. She also knew some of these women dared to take their game playing one step further. And she knew that her husband had often been a willing game player. She might have been a naive Iowa farm girl when she arrived in Virginia but she was not naive for long. Coquettish behavior did not personally appeal to her, as it did to many of the Southern women she knew, but an innocent appreciation of the attention of men, she did find appealing. Recognizing the fact she was considered beautiful, and knowing that alone garnered the attention of the opposite sex, she chose not to play on that, and accepted the attention in a gracious way. To do differently would have been a game her sense of pride would not have allowed her to play.
Although she hated her husband’s indiscretions, she ignored them, she supposed because she did not love him. She believed she was in love when she married, but now as she had grown older, she knew she was not in love. In some ways, he had represented a safe escape from what she believed would be her destiny in the corn fields of Iowa.
She had often thought of leaving her husband, leaving behind the illusion of a marriage but when she would get caught up in those thoughts she would soon retreat from them and go on as if nothing was wrong with her life.
The last time she was gathering the courage to leave Virginia, the war had broken out. And the war changed many things for her.
Madeline caught the eye of her housemaid who was clearing dinner plates from the table and motioned her to her side. Quickly, the bright-eyed Negro woman moved to Madeline’s chair. “Yes, ma’am,” she said.
“Please bring fresh coffee and wine for the gentlemen. We’ll have the dessert after that, Sadie.”
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br /> “Of course, ma’am.” Sadie scooped up the dinner plates of the Lieutenant and Madeline and left the dining room. Moments later she returned with a pot of hot coffee, followed by dessert.
Madeline turned to her guest. “Where did you have your training, Lieutenant Edson?” she asked. This was the first time he had sat to her side. On other occasions he had been seated across from her, and that made conversation more difficult, but even at those times she was very aware of his presence and often caught him looking at her.
He gave her a warm smile and said, “At West Point. I left Virginia eight years ago for New York to embark on my military career. My father and grandfather before me were fine military officers and I decided I needed to walk in their footsteps. At the time, though, I did not think we’d be preparing for war.”
She noticed how his hazel eyes had flecks of yellow and green in them and how warm and charming his expression was when he spoke to her. She said, “Oh? You didn’t feel it was inevitable.”
“Not really. I believed it would not come to this.”
She nodded. “Is your family here in Virginia?”
“Yes, my mother and father, and a sister. My father is ill.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
He lowered his eyes and said, “Thank you.” He drank coffee and remained silent.
Madeline was eager to continue their conversation but she politely sipped her coffee for several moments before asking, “When did you join Jefferson Davis’s call?”
“As soon as it came out. I resigned my Army commission and went with the Confederate forces shortly before our state seceded. I fell under General Beauregard’s command.”
Their conversation was soon interrupted by Lawrence Taylor. Taylor rose from his chair, pulled his shoulders back and stood tall, with wine glass in hand. “Gentlemen, I propose a toast.” The men raised their glasses almost in unison. Taylor continued, “May we have victory with all possible haste. May President Davis lead us on to overwhelm our enemy.”
Corn Silk Days: Iowa, 1862 Page 10