Freedom (Gone For Soldiers)

by Jeffry S. Hepple

  It was not quite midnight when John Wilkes Booth returned to his room in the National Hotel to find Lewis Powell waiting for him inside the darkened room. “What are you doing here?” Booth asked, as he lit the light. “You were supposed to meet us at the Quaker Inn on the road to Campbell Military Hospital.”

  “I found out that Lincoln’s plans changed,” Powell said. “Instead of going to the play at the hospital he came here.”

  “Here?” Booth asked incredulously. “Here? To this hotel?”

  Powell nodded. “The officers of the 142nd Indiana Infantry presented Governor Oliver Morton with a captured Confederate battle flag and Lincoln was invited.”

  “Of all the rotten luck.” Booth sat down on his bed. “So, did you see him? What happened?”

  “I saw him, but I couldn’t get near him.” Powell showed him the knife that he had hidden inside his coat.

  “We spent a miserable evening in the freezing rain waiting for Lincoln, who of course, never turned up. That’s the last time that I’ll ever trust information from your precious Confederate Secret Service.”

  “The information was right,” Powell insisted. “Lincoln didn’t change his plans until late this afternoon. I wouldn’t have known about it if I hadn’t been planning to follow him from the White House to the hospital.”

  Booth put his head in his hands. “Nothing ever seems to go right.”

  “We’ll have another opportunity.” Powell stood up and walked to the door. “I’m going back to Baltimore in the morning.”

  Booth looked at him. “But you’re coming back. Aren’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  March 23, 1865

  Goldsboro, North Carolina

  On March 19th, General Joseph Johnston attacked the Union left wing near Bentonville. The assault was initially successful but the Federals dug in and fought stubbornly. The next day the Union right wing joined the fight but Johnston, fearing that a retreat would demoralize his cobbled-together army, refused to withdraw. On the 21st, however, when his left flank was turned, Johnston had no choice but to retreat back toward Smithfield.

  Sherman had no interest in Smithfield and marched on to Goldsboro where he was joined by General John Schofield’s forces.

  March 31, 1865

  Petersburg, Virginia

  Robert E. Lee looked around at the assembled officers and men. “I need a messenger to take this order to General Pickett near Dinwiddie Court House.”

  Johnny Van Buskirk, who had been talking to Fitzhugh Lee, raised his hand. “I’ll take it for you, General.”

  “Thank you, John, but I’d rather…” He saw the disappointment on Johnny’s face. “Yes. Please take it for me.”

  Johnny smiled and put the order inside his shirt.

  “Perhaps I should just tell you what it says,” Lee suggested. “The Union army is thick around Pickett’s position and if you were found with that order…”

  “They’ll hang me if they find me, General,” Johnny said, “order or no order.”

  “It’s a very simple order,” Lee said. “Here. Let me have it back.”

  Johnny gave it to him.

  “Earlier today, General Pickett reported that he was pulling back to a position behind Hatcher’s Run. I disagree with that decision and want him to stop short of Hatcher’s run at Five Forks. This is my answer.” He held the order at arm’s length. “Hold Five Forks at all hazards. Protect road to Ford’s Depot and prevent Union forces from striking the Southside Railroad. Regret exceedingly your forces’ withdrawal, and your inability to hold the advantage you had gained.” He looked at Johnny. “You know Five Forks, I presume?”

  “Yes, sir. Where White Oak Road, Scott’s Road, Ford’s Road meet the Dinwiddie Court House Road.”

  “Good lad.”

  Johnny grinned at Fitz and hurried out the door.

  “I don’t want to hear it,” Lee said to his nephew. “I’m not going to approve his application for active service.”

  “He’s no worse than Hood,” Fitz Lee argued.

  “Hood is an old man with nothing to live for but the army. John has a beautiful young wife and a whole world waiting for him. I’d be grateful if you did all in your power to discourage him from this quest to regain his commission.”

  “I can’t do that, sir,” Fitz Lee said. “Johnny’s like a brother to me and I know how much it means to him.”

  “I’ve known that boy for his entire life,” Lee said. “I fought beside his grandfather and his father and I taught him how to be a soldier. If I can’t keep you and Rooney and others like you from harm’s way, at least I can…” He raised his hand and shook his head. “Forgive me. I’m just a tired old man.”

  April 1, 1865

  Five Forks, Virginia

  Johnny delivered Lee’s message to Pickett a little past midnight. “We’re going to be crushed here,” Pickett said.

  “I’m only the messenger, George,” Johnny replied.

  “Why is that?” Pickett asked. “You ride better now than a lot of men who have both legs.”

  Johnny shook his head. “I don’t know. I went over the Old Man’s head to President Davis, Davis approved my reinstatement, and then Marse Robert vetoed it.”

  Pickett looked back along White Oak Road. “What do you think, Johnny Reb? We’ve built two miles of log and dirt fortifications. Are we ready?”

  “I know that you’re facing Sheridan, but that’s all I know, George.”

  “Well, I know that as muddy as these roads are, he won’t be coming tomorrow.”

  “I got here through the mud.”

  “You’re one rider without a wagon train and it’s going to rain more before morning.”

  “Speaking of rain.” Johnny looked up at the sky. “I better get going, George. Good luck.”

  “Thank you. Where are you headed? Back to Petersburg?”

  “No. Fitz and I share a room at the Hatcher’s Run Inn. If you’re not engaged with Sheridan tomorrow, join me and Fitz for a shad bake luncheon.”

  “I’d like that. I’ll try.”

  ~

  Fitzhugh Lee was sitting at a picnic table in the side yard of the Hatcher’s Run Inn with Johnny Van Buskirk. He raised his hand and beckoned to George Picket and Thomas Rosser. “You didn’t bring Rooney?” he asked as the two joined them.

  “You know how your cousin is,” Pickett said, as he sat down at the table. “He’s convinced that Sheridan’s going to slog through all this mud and attack us.”

  “If he does, your troops are gonna be in trouble without their general and one of their cavalry commanders,” Johnny said.

  “We’ll hear the skirmishers and head back on the run,” Rosser replied. “If Sheridan comes, and I doubt he will this late in the day.” He leaned closer to Johnny. “Did I tell you that I tangled with your cousin at Tom’s Creek?”

  Johnny nodded. “Yes. You destroyed him and Custer, as I recall.”

  Rosser blushed. “Did I say that?”

  “Not to me. I overheard you telling it to some junior officers.”

  “I must have been drunk.”

  Johnny shrugged. “That would be a surprise.”

  ~

  Union General Phillip Sheridan had planned to attack at dawn by committing the Confederates at Five Forks to stay within their fortifications with his cavalry and to then roll up their left flank with the full force of V Corps, commanded by General Gouverneur K. Warren. His intelligence, however, was faulty, and the Confederate left was marked on his maps much farther east than it was in reality.

  Plagued by muddy roads, Warren wasn’t in position to attack until a bit after 4:00 PM. He launched one of his three divisions, commanded by General Samuel W. Crawford, at the end of what he expected to be the Confederate works and another, commanded by Romeyn B. Ayres, at the center.

  Crawford’s division charged through mud and brush until they were nearly exhausted without making enemy contact. Ayres attack carried him a bit to the right of the Con
federate works which exposed his flank to enfilade fire.

  Confused, Warren held the reserve division of General Charles Griffin and rode out to take command of the field.

  Sheridan, who had been with Ayres’s van, took over the division and led a charge that breached Pickett’s line.

  Without Pickett, who was at the moment eating baked shad with his friends, the breach caused a panic which Griffin’s division soon exploited. Seeing Griffin’s success, Warren sent Crawford north as Sheridan’s cavalry swooped in on the Confederate right.

  When Pickett at last learned of the attack and raced back to his troops he discovered that he’d lost almost ten thousand men.

  The Union army had, after nine long months, turned Robert E. Lee’s flank, forcing him to abandon Petersburg and Richmond.

  April 2, 1865

  Hatcher’s Run, Virginia

  Johnny was awakened by a knock on his bedroom door. He groped for the lamp, couldn’t find it, and hopped on his good leg to the door. “Who’s there?”

  “Me.”

  The voice was familiar but Johnny couldn’t place it. “Who’s me?”

  “Me. Pea. Your brother.”

  “Shit.” Johnny unlocked the door and hopped back clear. “Come on in.”

  “Don’t shoot me. I’m alone.” Paul opened the door and peeked in.

  “I’m not armed. Leave that open until I can get a light going.” Johnny hopped back to the bed, found the lamp and lit it.

  Paul closed the door. “Sorry to wake you, but coming here in daylight seemed a bit foolish until the Old Man’s pulled completely out of Petersburg.”

  “Did you come to gloat?” Johnny sat on the bed to pull on his trousers.

  “Of course not. You should know me better.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “To try to talk you into going home.”

  “Home as in Richmond where the Yankees will soon be burning the buildings, raping the women and killing the cripples?”

  “You know perfectly well that those stories are horseshit.”

  Johnny shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. The point is that I can’t go home. Richmond’s being occupied as we speak.”

  “In case you need reminding, Richmond’s Urilla’s home, not yours. Your home is in Texas.”

  Johnny nodded. “I know that, but I’m in this to the end, Pea.”

  “This is the end, Johnny.”

  “How did you know where I am?”

  “Fitz told me.”

  “He must trust you more than I do.”

  Paul didn’t answer.

  “Uncle Robert’s married.”

  Paul nodded. “To Urilla’s cousin. She’s charming and as startlingly beautiful as Urilla.”

  “You’ve met her?”

  “Yes. I had dinner with them in New York at Christmas.”

  “How old is she?”

  “I don’t know. Our age, I think.”

  “That doesn’t bother you?” Johnny asked.

  “Should it?”

  “Probably not, but it bothers me. I can’t tell you why.”

  “I have to get back to our lines before sunup,” Paul said. “Is there anything I can say or do to get you to stop all this?”

  “Are you going to stop?”

  “That’s different.”

  “No it’s not. Good-bye, Pea. Keep your head down, Brother.”

  “Yeah. You too, Johnny Reb.”

  Map by Hal Jespersen, www.cwmaps.com

  April 6, 1865

  Sayler’s Creek

  On April 1st and 2nd, Lee had abandoned his fortifications at Petersburg, intending to march to Danville, where Jefferson Davis and the Confederate cabinet were now assembled. Lee was not aware of the government’s plans, but he knew that General Joseph Johnston’s army had been summoned to Danville and he hoped to link up with Johnston there.

  On April 3rd, and again on the 5th, Union cavalry had bloodied Lee’s forces, so on the 6th, realizing that he had no open route to Danville, Lee decided to move west toward Lynchburg.

  At about mid-morning, when Confederate General Richard Ewell’s corps were crossing Sayler’s Creek near Farmville, Virginia, they were caught and attacked by Paul Van Buskirk’s division of Union cavalry. The Confederate divisions of Custis Lee and Joseph B. Kershaw soon came on line and counterattacked, but they fled when Union artillery at the Hillsman Farm bracketed them with a murderous bombardment.

  Van Buskirk quickly pursued and cut off the retreat, capturing the bulk of the forces including Generals Ewell, Lee and Kershaw.

  ~

  Robert E. Lee was riding with General Mahone at the rear of Longstreet’s column when Colonel Venable of his staff rode up to report that Van Buskirk had captured the Confederate wagon trains together with a large number of officers and men. “No,” Lee replied dumbfounded. “I’ve not heard anything of the kind from Ewell.”

  “I was told that General Ewell is one of the officers who was captured, sir,” Venable replied. “But I have no confirmation.” He hesitated. “Your son Custis may have been captured as well. And General Kershaw.”

  Lee turned to Mahone. “General, I have no other troops but yours. Will you come with me to Saylor’s Creek?”

  “Yes, of course, General.” Mahone raised his hand, signaled a left turn, then set off at a brisk pace with Lee riding beside him. When they reached the high ground of the River Road overlooking Saylor’s Creek, Mahone halted the column. Below them, what appeared to be a mob of unarmed men wearing articles of Confederate uniforms was running from a long, orderly column of Union soldiers. When the Confederate soldiers saw Lee, they began to move toward him, some climbing the embankment to reach him.

  “My God,” Lee murmured. “Has our army dissolved?”

  “No, General,” Mahone replied. He gestured toward his division behind them. “Here are troops ready to do their duty.”

  Lee turned in the saddle and smiled. “Yes, General. There are some true men left.” He turned back toward the mob. “Will you form some men to keep those people back, please?”

  “Yes, sir.” Mahone rode back, barking orders to his troops. Then, after a line had formed to push away the retreating Confederate soldiers, he returned to find Lee where he’d left him, but Lee was now holding a Confederate battle flag that one of the troops had given to him. “May I have that flag, sir?” Mahone asked.

  “Yes, of course.” Lee handed it to him. “Thank you for your help. I will ride back and rejoin General Longstreet now. We will proceed to Farmville and cross the river there. You must go through the woods to High Bridge, and then after your troops are across, fire the bridge.”

  “I don’t have the expertise to destroy a bridge as large as High Bridge, sir.”

  “Call forward Colonel Talcott of the Engineers and I will personally direct him in the matter.”

  “Very well, sir,” Mahone said. He turned to an aide. “Send for Colonel Talcott. General Lee wants to see him.”

  April 7, 1865

  High Bridge, Virginia

  Confederate General Mahone reached High Bridge before midnight of the 6th and began crossing. By dawn on the 7th, he was across the Appomattox, but Colonel Talcott and the engineers were nowhere to be found. Although destroying a twenty-five-hundred-foot-long bridge a hundred feet above a river was not a task for amateurs, Mahone had little choice and assigned an infantry brigade. Soon after the infantrymen had a fire started on two of the spans, the division of Union General Francis C. Barlow arrived, drove off Mahone’s troops and put out the fires they’d started.

  Now, with the Union army so close behind, Lee was forced to redirect the supply trains with rations for his hungry troops from Farmville to Appomattox Station, twenty-five miles west.

  That night, while Lee’s army was camped by the side of the road, a rider carrying a torch and a flag of truce rode through Mahone’s line. “I bear a letter to General Robert E. Lee from General U.S. Grant,” the rider announced.

  Lee
got to his feet. “I’m Lee.” He waved to an aide who hurried forward to take the letter, then he sat back down next to Longstreet. “Stay a moment, please,” he asked the rider. “There may be an answer.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Lee opened the letter.

  Head-quarters Armies of the United States, 5 P.M., April 7, 1865.

  General R. E. Lee,

  Commanding Confederate States Army:

  General, – The results of the last week must convince you of the hopelessness of further resistance on the part of the Army of Northern Virginia in this struggle. I feel that it is so, and regard it as my duty to shift from myself the responsibility of any further effusion of blood by asking of you the surrender of that portion of the Confederate army known as the Army of Northern Virginia.

  Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

  U. S. Grant,

  Lieutenant-General, Commanding Armies of the United States.

  Lee handed the letter to Longstreet without any comment.

  After reading it, Longstreet gave it back. “Not yet.”

  General Lee wrote in reply:

  April 7, 1865.

  General,–I have received your note of this day. Though not entertaining the opinion you express on the hopelessness of further resistance on the part of the Army of Northern Virginia, I reciprocate your desire to avoid useless effusion of blood, and therefore, before considering your proposition, ask the terms you will offer on condition of its surrender.

  R. E. Lee,

  General.

  April 8, 1865

  Appomattox, Virginia

  Night had just fallen and Confederate General James Longstreet was trying to sleep on the ground, under a blanket with his head on his saddle. General Robert E. Lee was nearby, talking to his nephew, Fitzhugh, who now had command of the entire cavalry, and to General Gordon, who was commanding the advance guard. “How many in your command, General Gordon?” Lee asked.