“Yes, m’lord.”
William got up, walked to the fireplace and took a pistol from a box on the mantle, then with the pistol behind his back he faced the door, waiting until the butler brought the man to the library door. “Thank you, Avery. You may go. Please close the door. We are not to be disturbed.”
“Yes, my lord.” The butler went out and closed the door behind him.
“Hello, William,” the visitor said.
The face was a horror but William recognized the voice and bearing. “Hello, Jack. Come in. What can I get you? Coffee? Tea? Brandy? A bag to put over your head?”
“I’m happy to see that you haven’t changed, William.” Jack took a few steps into the room, but didn’t approach his brother.
“Relax. I’m not going to shoot you.” William put the pistol back in the box on the mantle.
“I wasn’t worried,” Jack replied. He pointed at the fire. “I can’t come any closer. My scars can’t take the heat.”
“Ah.” William motioned toward a table near the windows. “Let me take your coat, hat and gloves.”
“No, thank you. I’d rather keep them on.”
William shrugged, sat down at the table and waited until Jack was seated across from him. “What brings you to England, Brother?”
“I need a place to hide.”
“From whom are you hiding?”
“Everyone. I deserted.”
William raised his eyebrows. “You deserted? General Jack Van Buskirk, the career soldier, deserted?”
“I thought you’d find that entertaining.”
“I would have thought so too, but the truth is that I’m disappointed. When I learned that you were back in the Army and a general again, I was strangely proud of you. I must be getting soft in my dotage.”
“You keep track of family news?”
William nodded. “Odd, isn’t it?”
“You’ve always been odd.” Jack struggled to pull off his left glove, exposing a gnarled and shriveled hand. “Can I stay with you or not?”
“Yes. Assuming that you will keep my secrets.”
“I’ve kept them this long. Why would I stop doing so now?”
William ignored the question. “What happened to you, Jack?”
Jack shrugged. “You know about Gettysburg?”
William nodded. “I know what was reported in the newspapers.”
“I was with John Reynolds leading a charge across a field of rye. The Confederates set the field on fire and retreated, firing blindly at us through the smoke. Reynolds was killed. My horse was shot and fell on me. My leg was pinned. I couldn’t get up.”
“How badly are you burned?”
“What you see is the worst of it. The fire didn’t last long enough to set fire to my clothes. My beard and my hair caught fire. My hands were burned too. My left is worse than my right.” He showed William his left hand.
“And when did you desert?” William asked.
“During the following night. Some corpse looters helped me get out from under my horse and I walked home.”
“Home?”
“Yes.”
“To New Jersey?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you just return to your own lines?”
“There were at least a hundred men who saw my horse fall and knew that I was alive. They left me out there with all the dead horses and dead men. Nobody made any attempt to help me. Nobody. I decided that I no longer owed any of them anything, so I just went home.”
“It seems impossible to me that you could have walked all the way from Gettysburg to Van Buskirk Point with those burns.”
“It actually wasn’t as difficult as the sea voyage and overland trip to here.”
“You do look exhausted,” William said after a long silence.
Jack nodded. “Is there some way that I can avoid being seen by your lady friends?”
“What lady friends?”
“The gossip at the pub is that you have dozens of women living here with you.”
“That’s a gross exaggeration.”
“Still – I’d rather not be seen by one or a hundred.”
William nodded. “You can have all the privacy you want, Jack. There are rooms in this castle that I’ve never seen. I even have a tower and a dungeon.”
“Thank you, William.”
September 18, 1863
Richmond, Virginia
Johnny helped Urilla down from the train and looked around the platform. “I don’t see your father.”
“He’s never on time for anything,” she said.
“I hate to leave you here alone, but I must go back to Chattanooga right away.” He pointed. “That’s my train leaving on the other track.”
“Go catch your train. I’ll be fine.”
“Wait for your father in the station.” Johnny kissed her soundly, crossed through the vestibule of the train they’d just arrived on, and ran to catch the westbound train that was just pulling out.
Urilla picked up her carpet bag and turned away from the tracks.
“Mommy!”
Urilla gasped, then knelt and held out her arms to the child that was running toward her. “Oh my dear, sweet boy. Am I dreaming?” She covered Jefferson’s head with kisses. “How did you get here?”
“Aunt Anna brought me,” he said.
Urilla looked around the platform. “Where is she?”
Jefferson turned to look too. “I don’t know. She was right there.”
September 19, 1863
Near Chattanooga, Tennessee
It was nearly noon when General Robert Van Buskirk arrived at the Widow Glenn’s house where General William Rosecrans was headquartered. The house was a beehive of activity with officers and noncoms rushing up and down the steps, holding impromptu meetings on the broad porch, or otherwise hurrying in and out of the double front doors.
Robert dismounted and gave his reins to the groom who had appeared from somewhere. The sound of battle seemed very close. Robert started toward the porch steps, but then changed his mind and turned toward the field southwest of the house where clusters of Union troops were milling about their stacked arms.
A very young second lieutenant burst from the front door, leaped from the porch and ran to catch Robert. “Sir! General! Please, sir!”
Robert stopped and waited. “What is it?”
The lieutenant skidded to a stop and nearly fell. “Sorry, sir, but General Rosecrans wishes to see you immediately.”
Robert nodded and resumed walking. “Please tell the general that I’ll be with him directly.”
The lieutenant trotted ahead, then began walking backwards. “Begging your pardon, sir, but General Rosecrans was fairly emphatic.”
“Fairly emphatic, was he?” Robert chuckled.
“Insistent may be a better word, sir.”
“Insistent?” Robert stopped again.
“Yes, sir.”
“Can you count, Lieutenant?”
“Sir?”
“It was a simple question. Can you count? Yes or no?”
“Yes, sir. I can count. Of course I can count.”
“Good,” Robert pronounced. “Perhaps you would count the number of stars on my collar.”
“Sir?”
“How many stars do you see on my collar?”
“Two, sir?”
“And from memory, can you tell me how many stars there are on the collar of General Rosecrans?”
The young man dropped his eyes. “I understand, sir. I’ll tell General Rosecrans that you’ll be with him directly.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. You’re dismissed.” Robert watched the young man jog away and then resumed his walk toward the troops in the field. He had covered about half the distance when two mounted men appeared riding toward him. Robert stopped, removed his glove, then his hat and mopped his brow with a pocket kerchief.
The riders, a colonel and a sergeant major, dismounted and saluted.
Robert put his hat
back on and returned the salute. “A fine morning, gentlemen.”
“Indeed, sir,” the colonel replied. “I am Smith Atkins, in command of this regiment, sir. This is Sergeant Major Justin.”
Robert gestured toward the sound of battle. “The enemy seems quite near.”
“Indeed he is, sir,” Atkins replied. “General James Longstreet’s corps. That is, John Bell Hood’s division of Longstreet’s corps, to be more precise.”
Robert could tell that the colonel expected a response so he raised his eyebrows and nodded sagely.
“You believe that, do you, sir?” Atkins asked.
Robert gave him a puzzled look. “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I believe it?”
“General Rosecrans does not. He called me a liar. I then brought him a prisoner from Longstreet’s command and he called the prisoner a liar. General Rosecrans says that General Longstreet is not here.”
Robert looked toward the milling soldiers. “Has that something to do with why your arms are stacked and you’re not engaged with an enemy who’s so close at hand?”
“Yes, sir. It has everything to do with it. General Rosecrans ordered me to rest my men here, sir.”
“Rest?”
“I’m being punished, sir.”
“Ah yes. I see. Thank you, gentlemen. You’re dismissed.” Robert returned their salutes, then turned and began to retrace his steps toward the house.
General William Rosecrans was standing at attention behind his desk when Robert walked into his headquarters. He looked displeased.
“May we have the room please, gentlemen?” Robert asked of the gaggle of staff officers and runners.
“Just a moment,” Rosecrans sputtered. “You can’t come in here and dismiss my staff.”
Robert walked forward and with his palms on the desktop leaned toward Rosecrans. “As the official representative of General-in-Chief Henry Halleck, I can come in here and dismiss anyone in this room. Anyone and everyone, including you. Is that perfectly clear?”
Rosecrans, who knew Robert as affable and calm, was shocked by the sudden vehemence. “Now just a minute. I didn’t know that you were sent here by the General-in-Chief. I thought…”
“The proper response to my question, General Rosecrans, is ‘yes sir’. Nothing else is acceptable.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Robert straightened up and looked around again. “Gentlemen. Wait outside. All of you. Now.” He waved his hand. “Go.”
A moment later the room was clear and Robert sat down. “You’ve lost control, General.” He raised his hand to stop the argument that Rosecrans was about to launch. “Let’s not waste time discussing your mental state, your mistakes, or your future career, but instead let us try to save this army from being sacrificed.” He paused a moment. “Oh, by the way. Your headquarters is about to be overrun by John Bell Hood’s division from Longstreet’s corps. Before we do anything else you may want to put Colonel Atkins regiment back into line and send him any available reinforcements.”
“Atkins is a fool or a liar. I have it on good authority that Longstreet is not here.”
“Your information is correct, as far as it goes. Longstreet did return to Richmond, but he’s due back today. Most of his divisions are out there facing you right now. By tomorrow his entire corps will be up and he will, once again, be leading them.”
“Is Grant sending us reinforcements?”
“No. Your glowing reports were all about your victory and they didn’t indicate that you needed any reinforcements. It wasn’t until my nephew was sent back wounded that we realized that you were in any kind of trouble.”
“My reports stated clearly…”
“I’m not going to debate that or anything else with you, General. The reality of the moment is that Bragg will be up to full strength by tonight and he is going to undertake an all-out assault against you tomorrow. That is – if you can survive today. Are you listening?”
“I’m listening.”
“If you want this conversation to remain polite you had better start ending your sentences with sir or general.”
“Yes, General. I’m listening, sir.”
“Good. Bring in your staff and a map and I’ll tell you what you’re going to do.”
Map by Hal Jespersen, www.cwmaps.com
September 20, 1863
Chickamauga Creek, Tennessee
It was just past 4:00 AM. Confederate General James Longstreet was seated on a camp stool beside a campfire, drinking coffee from a tin cup and smoking a cigar. “I heard you were back.”
Johnny Van Buskirk stepped into the firelight and offered a quick salute that he didn’t expect to be returned.
“Pull up a seat,” Longstreet offered, ignoring the salute. “Coffee’s hot and fairly fresh.”
“Have you been up all night, sir?”
“I got a couple of hours sleep after we got back from Bragg’s headquarters,” Longstreet answered. “You?”
“I slept on the train.” Johnny unfolded a camp stool and found a reasonably clean tin cup.
“Did you get Urilla delivered home?”
“Yes, sir. And my aunt delivered our son to Urilla. I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t caught a glimpse of her when I was running to catch my train back here.”
“She’s a pistol, that aunt of yours.”
“She is indeed.”
“She was sure a beauty when she was young. Not bad lookin’ now either, and she must be pushin’ sixty. Hell of a body.”
“I’m sorry that I missed General Bragg’s briefing, sir,” Johnny said to change the subject.
“You didn’t miss much. We got lost on the way and didn’t find his headquarters until about eleven last night. The general told us that he’d been engaged in severe skirmishes all day while he tried to get lined up for battle.” Longstreet signaled an aide. “Major, would you get the map that General Bragg gave us last night, please.” He waited until the major returned with the map. “Give it to General Van Buskirk.”
“Thank you.” Johnny put down his coffee cup and unrolled the map across his knees. “What is this, General?”
“That’s the area between Lookout Mountain and the Chickamauga River,” Longstreet replied. “We’re the left wing composed of Hood’s and Hindman’s divisions, an improvised division under B. R. Johnson and Buckner’s corps.”
“Buckner’s corps, sir?”
“Stewart and Preston’s divisions.”
Johnny nodded. “Artillery?”
“Williams, Robertson, Leyden’s batteries and the batteries attached to the brigades, of course.”
“Enemy strength?”
“Unknown. Location unknown.”
“Intelligence doesn’t seem all that reliable.”
Longstreet shrugged. “Was McLaws on the train with you from Richmond?”
“No, sir.”
“I wonder if he’s here.”
“He’s not, sir. I asked for him at Ringgold. Humphreys’ and Kershaw’s brigades from his division are moving forward without him.”
Longstreet looked toward the eastern horizon. “Guess we should think about saddling up. Are you gonna need a fresh mount?”
“No, sir. I’ve got one.”
Longstreet signaled the major. “Please have my horse saddled and brought up with General Van Buskirk’s.”
“Are you going to fill me in on disposition before we ride out?” Johnny asked.
“Can’t. I’m not sure where everyone is. We’ll have to ride forward, see what’s what and who’s where, and make adjustments as we go.”
“That’s a little disconcerting,” Johnny said with a semi-sincere chuckle.
“You’ve seen the terrain,” Longstreet said. “Nothin’ but hills, trees and gullies. Yesterday Polk started up the road toward Chattanooga and surprised a whole Yankee division that, unbeknownst to him, was camped less than a mile from his bivouac. The tussle lasted all day.”
“Who was the Yankee commander?”
“Old Tom.”
“Who?”
“George Thomas. According to Bragg, Old Tom’s been our nemesis here.” Longstreet spit in the fire. “A Virginian. Wouldn’t you know it?”
“Was he in your class?”
“No. He was two years ahead of me. In Sherman’s class.” He looked up as a groom led two horses into the firelight. “Well. Let’s go see how the cow ate the cabbage.”
~
“Halt,” a voice called from the darkness. “Who goes there?”
“General Robert Van Buskirk looking for Colonel Smith Atkins.”
“Dismount, advance and be recognized, General Robert Van Buskirk.”
Robert stepped down from his horse and led him forward. “I don’t have the password for this sector.”
“It’s all right, sir. I know you from yesterday. The colonel’s over there by them trees. You can see the glow of his campfire.”
“Thank you, Private.”
“It’s corporal, sir. Colonel Atkins don’t let privates pull guard duty in combat zones.”
“I’ll bet that doesn’t go over well with the noncoms.” Robert swung back onto his horse.
“We don’t complain, sir. It makes sense to have experienced men protectin’ the perimeter. Colonel Atkins is a sensible man and so are his noncoms.”
“Well, good morning to you, Corporal.” Robert gave his horse a gentle kick.
“Sergeant of the guard, rider comin’,” the corporal sang out.
As the call was repeated, Robert rode forward.
Colonel Atkins was waiting when Robert reached his headquarters. “Good morning, General. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”
Robert dismounted and gave the reins to an orderly. “I was causing too much commotion at General Rosecrans’s headquarters so I thought I’d ride over here to watch the action. I’ll try not to get in the way.”
“You’re very welcome, sir. Coffee?”
“Please.” Robert peered into the gloom. “What’s that sound?”
“The Rebs burying their dead from yesterday evening’s battle.” Atkins poured coffee into a dirty cup and handed it to him. “If you look hard you can see the white flags bobbing around in the mist.” He refilled his own coffee cup. “Some of our men thought they were ghosts of the fallen Rebs rattling chains and haunting us for killing them.”
Freedom (Gone For Soldiers) Page 13