Freedom (Gone For Soldiers)

by Jeffry S. Hepple

  “General Hindman has also been relieved.”

  Johnny nodded again. “It appears that General Bragg is looking for scapegoats.”

  Hill’s reply was cut off by Longstreet’s arrival. He stood up and shook Longstreet’s hand. “Good morning, General.”

  “General Hill. To what do I owe this honor?”

  “I’d prefer to discuss that in private, if you don’t mind.”

  Longstreet glanced at Johnny and walked around his desk to sit down. “Permitting him to stay will save me the time of repeating to him everything you say to me.”

  Hill looked as if he might argue, then nodded. “Very well. But I must ask you both for your words of honor that nothing we say here will be repeated.”

  “Forget it,” Longstreet said. “I’ve already been approached by other generals who want me to write letters to President Davis or sign petitions to have General Bragg relieved. I won’t participate in your mutiny.”

  Hill looked angry. “After coming here all the way from Virginia and to then be treated so shabbily, you of all people…” He stopped and with a visible effort regained his composure. “Forgive me. I quite understand. Thank you for seeing me.” He turned and left the tent.

  Johnny walked to the tent flaps and watched Hill join his entourage.

  “You disagree?” Longstreet asked.

  “No, sir.” Johnny dropped the tent flap and returned to sit down across from Longstreet. “President Davis is capable of evaluating what happened and making his own decision without any pressure from his general officers.”

  “I am going to write to General Lee,” Longstreet said.

  “If you think that’s prudent, sir.”

  “You don’t?”

  “I have no opinion on the subject, sir.”

  “Come on, Johnny. Talk to me.”

  “I am, General. I honestly have no opinion.”

  “You might want to form one because this is like a dead fish that’s only gonna stink worse and worse until it’s buried.”

  “I suppose the question is: who’s going to bury it?”

  “Only Jefferson Davis can do that and Robert E. Lee’s the only man he trusts.”

  October 1, 1863

  Washington, D.C.

  President Lincoln’s assistant secretary John Hay was escorting General Robert Van Buskirk into the cabinet room as Anna rounded the corner. When she saw her brother, she squealed and ran down the hall to throw her arms around his neck.

  “Really, Anna.” Robert blushed and gently tried to extract himself from her fierce embrace. “What’s come over you?” He gave Hay a sheepish grin.

  Anna released Robert and looked up into his face. “I’m just very, very happy to see you.”

  “Yes. And I’m happy to see you too,” Robert said. “But this is the White House.”

  “Oh bother that.” She turned to Hay. “Please send someone to find me when the meeting’s over, John. I don’t want my brother to get away without spending at least a few minutes with me.”

  “There’s no one in this meeting except the Tycoon and Secretary Stanton,” Hay replied. “Let me ask if you can sit in.” He pushed the Cabinet Room door open before either could protest. “Mr. President, Anna hasn’t seen her brother for some time. Would you or the Secretary have any objection to her sitting in?”

  Lincoln looked at Stanton, who shrugged. “We’d be happy to have her join us.” As Hay ushered Robert and Anna through the door, Lincoln got up to shake hands. “It’s a pleasure to see you, General.” He gestured toward the cabinet table. “Please have a seat and tell us what you learned in Tennessee.”

  Robert waited for Lincoln and Anna to sit before taking a seat himself. “Where should I begin, Gentlemen?”

  “Begin with Rosecrans,” Stanton said. “Is he fit to command?”

  “No,” Robert replied without hesitation. “The Battle of Chickamauga seems to have completely unhinged General Rosecrans.”

  Lincoln nodded agreement. “I told John Hay that Rosecrans was confused and stunned as a duck hit on the head.”

  Robert grinned, looked at Anna and then burst into a fit of uncontrolled laughter.

  “He laughs,” Anna said in amazement. “I didn’t know he had it in him.”

  “I am very sorry,” Robert said, struggling to keep a straight face. “But – a duck hit on the head is so apropos.” He chuckled and then began to laugh again.

  Lincoln winked at Stanton who was also chuckling.

  After a few more failed attempts, Robert regained his composure, wiped the tears from his eyes and took a deep breath. “Please forgive me.”

  Stanton waved his hand. “Who’s our best choice to replace Rosecrans?”

  “George Thomas. He performed admirably and probably saved the Army of the Cumberland from complete destruction.”

  “How much of that was because of Braxton Bragg’s unexpected withdrawal?” Lincoln asked.

  “Longstreet threw everything he had at Thomas and was unable to move him, sir,” Robert said. “That probably contributed to Bragg’s decision to withdraw.”

  “We have reports that Bragg’s subordinates refused his orders and caused delays that cost Bragg the day,” Stanton said.

  “Mistakes were made on both sides and at all levels, sir,” Robert said.

  “Grant doesn’t like Thomas,” Stanton said.

  Robert didn’t answer.

  “Is that so, General?” Lincoln asked. “Does General Grant dislike General Thomas?”

  “I don’t really know, sir,” Robert replied. “But it hardly matters. I’m certain that Thomas is the best choice at this juncture and I’m equally certain that General Grant will agree with my assessment.”

  “If he does agree, how long will it take to replace Rosecrans?” Stanton asked.

  Robert shook his head. “You could do it immediately with a telegram.”

  “Is that what you suggest?” Lincoln asked.

  “I’d rather hear firsthand what General Grant and General Sherman think about that before making any suggestions about timing,” Robert said. “I came directly here from Tennessee and haven’t spoken to them.”

  Lincoln nodded. “Is Grant still on crutches?”

  “Sometimes, sir,” Robert said. “But it hardly slows him down.”

  Lincoln looked at Stanton. “Let’s postpone our decision about Rosecrans until General Van Buskirk’s conferred with Generals Grant and Sherman.”

  Stanton shook his head. “I think it would be better if I met personally with General Grant. General Van Buskirk needs some time with his family. A thirty-day leave of absence is hereby granted.” He made a note.

  Lincoln looked more than a little surprised at Stanton’s pronouncement. “Well then,” he said, smiling at Anna. “It seems that you have your brother to yourself.” He stood up. “Thank you, General.” He offered his hand.

  Robert got quickly to his feet. “A pleasure, Mr. President.”

  “Can you stay please, John?” Lincoln asked Hay.

  “Yes, sir,” Hay replied.

  Anna walked around the table, took Robert’s arm and led him out of the room. “What’s the weather like outside? I’d like to walk back to the Willard.”

  “The weather?” Robert wrinkled his brow. “I didn’t notice, Anna.”

  She closed the door. “I don’t care about the weather. I was getting you away from Secretary Stanton before you told him that you didn’t want a leave of absence.”

  “You needn’t have bothered. I was too flabbergasted to say anything.” He looked back at the closed door. “Why do you suppose he did that? Has he lost confidence in me? I really overstepped when I was with Rosecrans but…”

  “Shh.” Anna squeezed his arm. “The President and Secretary Stanton have great confidence in you, Robert, but you look completely worn out. Whether you know it or not, you need some rest and relaxation or your health is going to start to fail.”

  “Nonsense. I’m just tired from…”

>   “From everything,” she interrupted. “For once in your life will you please take your big sister’s advice?”

  He chuckled. “Okay, Big Sister. But you’re going to grow very tired of my company in thirty days.”

  ~

  “I’m sorry, Robert,” Anna said, blotting tears from her cheeks. “Lately everything seems to make me weep. I think I’m going mad.”

  “You’re entitled,” he said.

  They were in the living room of Anna’s suite. A tea service was on the table between them.

  “Have you heard about the efforts to make the Gettysburg battlefield into a soldiers’ cemetery?” she asked, obviously trying to change the subject.

  Robert shook his head.

  “David Willis, a Gettysburg lawyer, is spearheading it for the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, but another lawyer, David McConaughy, is already buying lots on Cemetery Hill to make it a Federal cemetery.”

  Robert nodded.

  “I miss her every day,” Anna said, after a long silence.

  “I don’t,” Robert replied. “Most days I go about my business, thinking that she’s still here, waiting for me to come home.”

  Anna wiped away a new tear.

  Robert reached into his coat and took out a letter. “I was going to wait to tell you until I confirmed this, but…” He handed the letter to her.

  Anna skimmed the letter and looked up. “Is it true?” she asked hopefully. “Is Tom alive?”

  Robert shrugged. “I don’t know. It seems possible. The authorities at Johnson’s Island in Danbury are convinced anyway.”

  Anna reread the letter. “If it really is Tom, why would he refuse to tell the prison authorities his name?”

  “I don’t know that either. But I’m going to Ohio to get some answers.”

  “No, I’ll go.”

  “No. If Tom doesn’t want to be identified, he must have a good reason. I can cover a visit as an official inspection without giving away his identity. But if you walk into the prison as his sister…”

  “Oh, yes. I see.” She fidgeted, refilled their teacups and then got up and walked to the window. “I’m going. I’ll think of something.”

  “Why? It would be easier for me to go.”

  “I understand. If we only wanted to learn if it’s really Tom, your going would be the logical choice.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that if Tom’s in prison, I’m going to get him out and I know you wouldn’t even consider it.”

  “That’s unkind, Anna. If it’s Tom, why wouldn’t I try to get him out? I’m almost sure I could arrange to have him paroled. If it’s really Tom.”

  “If Tom was willing to accept parole he wouldn’t be refusing to give his name.”

  “Yes.” Robert nodded. “Good point. But the President isn’t going to intervene on Tom’s behalf, if that’s what you have in mind. The newspapers would crucify him.”

  She shook her head. “I wouldn’t dream of asking the President for help. If it’s Tom, I’m going to break him out.”

  “Oh Anna.” He shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t break someone out of a federal prison.”

  “I’ll find a way.”

  Robert sighed deeply. “I think you may have really gone mad.”

  Anna walked back to stand over Robert. “Our brother might be alive in one of those horrible camps for prisoners of war. If he is, I have to get him out. I just have to. Maybe that’s madness. I don’t know or care.”

  “Slow down - I haven’t even allowed myself to believe that Tom’s alive yet,” Robert said.

  Anna made a face. “The opposite of Nancy, whom you refuse to believe is dead?”

  Robert didn’t reply.

  “You always do that,” Anna said, raising her voice. “You’ve always done it. If reality’s too painful, you just ignore it or create some new, imaginary reality inside your head.”

  He put his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes. “If that’s true, maybe it’s me who’s mad.”

  “You will go mad, if you don’t let out some of that pent-up emotion.” Anna sighed. “Who am I to talk? It’s not our fault – it’s Mother’s. She thought that showing what you felt was weak.”

  “Dad thought the same thing,” Robert said.

  “Yes, they brought us up like little Spartans.” She shook her head. “But I don’t want to talk about them. Every time I do, I say something hateful about Mother and it makes me feel bad for days.”

  “You were hurt more when she left us in New Orleans than we boys were, Anna. She was your – everything. Jack, Tom, William and I were glad to see her go and disappointed when she came back.”

  “She was nasty to me too.”

  Robert shrugged. “Well, whatever she did to the rest of us was nothing compared to how she treated William. She turned him into the monster he became.”

  Anna sat back down on the couch. “He was born a monster and he was her favorite.”

  “I was her least favorite.”

  “You were the least in need. The sweetest baby. The most obedient child. The best student. The war hero. In her mind you simply didn’t need anything from her.”

  “I was all those things to please her.”

  Anna shook her head. “You were all those things to please us all. You never did anything just for yourself; it was always for someone’s approval.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “It is perfectly true, Robert. Look at you. You’re a major general who lives in the shadows of two less talented major generals. Did you know they call you ‘Grant’s brain’?”

  “It’s not true. Sam Grant is the best field general I’ve ever seen. He can envision an entire battlefield and follow the action in his head. It’s a remarkable talent. Cump Sherman, on the other hand…”

  “Stop,” Anna said. “I’ve heard all this self-deprecating horseshit before.”

  Robert shrugged.

  “Let’s talk about Tom,” Anna said.

  “You mean about Tom’s prison break? The one that you’re going to orchestrate?”

  “Yes. Talking about William just now gave me an idea. Do we have any portraits of Tom and William?”

  “There are those small graduation paintings of each of us in the library at Van Buskirk Point.”

  “We’ll go get them tomorrow. Then we’ll visit some theaters in New York. I don’t suppose you know any forgers, do you?”

  Robert gave her a wide-eyed look. “Are you going to explain this to me?”

  “Not until I’m sure that you’re in.”

  “I won’t be in unless I’m sure it’s really Tom in that prison and that there’s no legal means to get him out.”

  Anna raised an eyebrow. “Really? You’d break Tom out if there was no other way?”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “It could backfire and cost you your career.”

  “My career may be over anyway when Charlie Dana files his report with Stanton. If it’s Tom, I’m in.”

  “All right then. I’ll tell you my plan.”

  October 4, 1863

  Memphis, Tennessee

  In late September, General Sherman received orders to proceed to Memphis and to then move eastward to Athens, Alabama, repairing railroads as he went.

  On September 28th, Sherman and his family boarded the steamer Atlantic at Vicksburg, bound for Memphis. As the steamer cast off, the Sherman family stood at the rail to wave to those left behind at Young’s Point. General Sherman, noting that his son Willie seemed less boisterous than usual, felt the child’s brow. “You’re very warm, Willie. Are you feeling well?”

  “Not so well, sir,” the boy replied.

  Sherman immediately sent for Dr. Roler of the Fifty-fifth Illinois, who, after a brief examination, declared that the boy had typhoid.

  The river was very low, so progress from Vicksburg to Helena was terribly slow. During the journey Will
ie’s condition became grave.

  The steamer arrived in Memphis on October 2nd and the Sherman family took up residence in the Gayoso Hotel.

  On the following evening, October 3rd, Willie died. At his bedside were his father, his mother and his siblings, Minnie, Lizzie, and Tom.

  On the 4th of October, the Thirteenth United States Regulars escorted the small metal casket from the Gayoso Hotel to the steamboat Grey Eagle. Willie was buried at the family home in Lancaster, Ohio while his father remained on duty in Tennessee.

  October 9, 1863

  Lookout Mountain, Tennessee

  General Johnny Van Buskirk blinked and shielded his eyes from the glare of a lantern. “Who’s that?”

  “It’s me. Longstreet.”

  “What’s wrong?” Johnny kicked off the blankets and sat up. “Are we under attack?”

  “Yeah, but not from the Yankees.”

  “I don’t understand.” Johnny lit a lantern and began dressing. “I don’t hear any guns. Is there a battle somewhere? Is an attack imminent?”

  “Our presence is required at Bragg’s headquarters.”

  “Now?”

  “No. At ten.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Five.”

  “Are you going to explain this to me or not, General?” Johnny asked in an annoyed tone.

  “President Davis is at Bragg’s headquarters. He’s ordered all general grade officers to meet him there at ten to render our opinions of our commanding officer.”

  “It said all that in the message?”

  “Yes. And I presume that Bragg will be there during the discussion.”

  “Why does any of this require me getting out of my nice warm bed at five o’clock in the morning?”

  “I want to discuss our response to the President’s query.”

  “That’s easy. You stay vague while I beg ignorance.”

  “Davis won’t stand for that.”

  “How can either of us have a strong opinion? We’ve seen General Bragg for less than an hour.”

  “Yeah, but we’ve also seen the miserable results of this campaign.”

  “Well, I can’t speak for you, sir, but if the President asks me I’ll have to say that I don’t know General Bragg well enough to have formed an opinion of him and that I wasn’t well enough informed of the battle plan beforehand to offer any judgments afterwards.”