They spoke no more of the matter, but when they got out of the carriage, Tom put his hand out awkwardly, saying, “I—I appreciate it, sir, your talking to me like this.” Then he whirled around and walked away rapidly.
Rebekah, who had come in another carriage with the rest of the family, came to stand beside Sky. “He’s joining up, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
She was a strong woman, this wife of Sky Winslow. There were no tears in her eyes, but she put her hand on his arm for support, whispering, “We’ll have to lean on each other—and on God.” Then she made herself smile, turning to say, “Hurry up, Pet! We want to get a good place to watch the parade.”
Pet had been talking to Thad Novak, a young man who had been taken in by the Winslows. “Thad and Dan and I are going to walk around before the parade starts,” she called out, and led the young man off.
Sky laughed. “Ever since she nursed that young man back to health, she acts as if he belongs to her! Well, come along, let’s see what we’ve got in the way of an army.”
“I’m going to find Mark,” Tom said. When he saw him, Tom blurted out, “I’m joining the Blades. I just told Father.”
Mark bit his lip nervously, then asked, “What did he say?”
“It was all right. Said that Dan would be in this thing before it’s over.”
Mark shook his head. “He’s too young. We’ll have to try to keep him out.”
“We won’t have any luck,” Tom remarked. “I guess all us Winslows are too stubborn.”
“It seems so. Well, be at camp in the morning and we’ll sign you up.”
“All right.”
Tom left the parade ground and moved through the crowd until he found Marlene and her mother, seated in cane-bottomed chairs placed along the edge of the wide grounds.
“Hello, Thomas,” Mrs. Signourey greeted cheerily when Tom approached. “We’ve been expecting you.”
Tom’s face broke into a smile. He liked Marlene’s mother. “How’d you get the good seats?”
“Spence got them for us somehow,” Mrs. Signourey shrugged. “He’s gone to get some lemonade.”
He groaned inwardly at the news. “Sure,” he nodded. “I’m going to find my folks. Will I see you after the review, Marlene?”
“Why, of course!” She seemed surprised that he had asked. “You’re coming to our house for a little snack. Come and bring Mother and me home.”
“All right.”
Tom left, and taking a place far across the field he watched as Spence returned with a pitcher and glasses. From his vantage point, Tom had to admit the three made a pretty picture in the crowd.
The review was impressive, and Tom gave careful attention to the Richmond Blades. Shelby Lee, the nephew of General Robert E. Lee, was their captain and had trained them well. As they marched across the field with precision, Tom wished he were in their ranks.
President Davis and several other prominent statesmen spoke afterward—all presenting much the same: If the South were to win, everyone would have to give his best. There was a performance by the military band, and for a final flourish, Jeb Stuart’s cavalry rode down the field, first in perfect order, then in a wild sabre-brandishing charge spiced with high yelping cries.
The crowd rose to its feet, screaming approval, and Tom found himself stirred along with them.
Why not do it now? The thought came to him suddenly, and he knew he could never be content unless he joined the army. Without hesitation he shoved his way through the crowd until he found Captain Shelby Lee. “Captain Lee,” he said at once, “I’ve got to talk to you.”
“Why, certainly, Mr. Winslow. What can I do for you?”
“I want to join the Blades—right away!”
Surprised, he asked, “Have you talked with your father about this?”
“Yes. He agrees, sir, and I’d like to enlist at once.”
Lee smiled at Tom’s urgency. “Well, I think that can be arranged. Come along and you can fill out the papers now.” As they made their way to the office, Lee said, “I’m pleased to have you, of course, and your brother will be happy as well. But you won’t get much training, I’m afraid. It looks as though we may be moving out in a week.”
“I’ll be happy to be going with you, sir,” Tom replied.
He was given a hurried physical, then filled out several papers. “You are now a private in the Richmond Blades, Third Virginia Infantry,” Captain Lee said. “Glad to have you.”
Tom walked away, dazed by what he had done. He had always been a little impulsive, but this thing had exploded in his face. Yet he felt the excitement build up in him and could hardly keep still as he pictured his new life. But—tomorrow! How could he tell his mother?
And Marlene? The possibility of losing her hit him. I’ll be off in a war—and Spence will be here. And I know what he’ll be doing!
The thought disturbed him as he hurried to get one of his family’s carriages and pick up Marlene and her mother. When they arrived at the Signourey home, he was dismayed to discover that at least thirty people were there for the “little” snack the two had planned. Spence was among them, and it was apparent that he had no intention of leaving early.
Tom endured the meal and the rest of the evening, but it was after ten before the crowd thinned out.
Knowing that Spence would be the last to leave, Tom followed Marlene into the kitchen when he saw her in the doorway. He caught her hand, ignoring her gasp of surprise, and rushed her out into the back garden.
“Tom! I can’t leave!” Marlene protested. “My guests—!”
“Come on,” Tom interrupted. “I need to talk to you, and I can’t do it here!” He tugged at her hand, pulling her around a hedge that bordered the small house, to a lane that led into a grove of small trees. When they reached the grove, he stopped and turned to face her.
“I couldn’t stand any more people,” he said, then added, “You look so beautiful!”
“Why—Tom!” she exclaimed, surprised at his compliment. He had paid her few compliments, and coming so abruptly, she wondered what produced it. “You ought to say such things more often,” she smiled.
“Like Spence?” Tom asked, and immediately regretted it. “I wish I could say such things to you. And I’ll learn.”
“Are you going to take lessons?” Marlene laughed at him. “Don’t let me hear of you finding another woman to practice on!”
“Why would I do that when I have you?” She made an enticing picture, and he put his arms around her. She didn’t resist, but after they kissed, she asked, “You’re behaving very strangely. What is it, Tom?”
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Two things, Marlene. I’m leaving tomorrow. I joined the Blades today.”
“Oh, Tom—!”
He pressed his fingers over her lips, muffling her voice. “The other thing is more important.” He dropped his hand from her lips and said simply, “Marlene, you know how I feel. I love you. Will you marry me?”
“Why, Tom! This is all so—so wild! I can’t make a decision so quickly.” She had expected his proposal for some time, but this caught her off guard.
He drew her close, whispering, “It will have to be quick, because the Company will be leaving soon. I wish I’d asked you earlier, but I was afraid you’d turn me down. Could we be engaged? We’ll have time, and as soon as I get leave, you can set the date.”
Marlene was moved by the proposal, for she was a young woman of quick emotions. She wanted to marry, and Tom Winslow had been on her mind for a long time. He had everything, including looks and money. And he would be in the Blades! She envisioned herself walking under the swords of the officers, wearing her white dress, and it pleased her.
“Yes, Tom, we can be engaged,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck as he pulled her into his arms. As he kissed her, she had some disturbing thoughts about Spence, but brushed them away. Finally she pulled away, saying, “Come along! We’ve got to tell Mother!”
“Congratulations, Tom,” he said evenly, a smile on his lips. “I confess you to be the better man.”
“Thanks, Spence,” Tom replied. “I was lucky.”
****
But the wedding was postponed. Bloody Manassas came, and Tom fought with the Blades through the worst of it. Then the Third Virginia was sent to the Valley. The months moved by, and only once did Tom return to Richmond—only to find that Marlene had returned to New Orleans.
“Her grandmother is very ill,” Belle told him when he arrived at Belle Maison. “Her mother’s mother, that is. They had to leave two weeks ago. I’m sorry, Tom. Marlene longs to see you.” She hesitated for a moment. “Have you heard about Spence?”
“No, what about him?”
“He’s a lieutenant in the Yankee army—on General Butler’s staff.”
“Well, I don’t guess we’ll be shooting at each other, then.”
“But Butler’s going to try to take New Orleans—with the help of the Yankee navy.” She almost added, And if New Orleans falls, Marlene will be there with Spence! But she caught herself, saying only, “Take care of yourself, Tom.”
Time dragged on, and in April 1862, two admirals, Porter and Farragut, ran the batteries at New Orleans, forcing the city to surrender on the twenty-fifth.
Meanwhile, Spence was fighting in the Union Army, for General McClelland had brought a huge army by boat to overwhelm Richmond. The Battle of the Seven Days cost both sides dearly, and when McClelland finally retreated—partly as a result of Stonewall Jackson’s Valley Campaign—both armies were exhausted.
The Richmond Blades were worn thin, and were ordered to Richmond to refit and rest up. When they reached the city, Tom got leave and went at once to Belle Maison. He pulled up in front of the house, and to his shock, instead of being greeted by his mother, it was Marlene who came running down the path to throw herself into his arms, crying, “Tom! Tom—!”
Confused and bewildered, he held her, and finally she kissed him. “Tom, I thought I’d lost you!”
“Marlene, how long have you been here? I thought you were in New Orleans.”
“My grandmother died, Tom—and then my mother.” Tears welled into her eyes, and she sobbed wildly. “I was so afraid, and then I came here—”
“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” he soothed. “I’m here now.”
“Tom, will we be married right away?”
“All right. Sunday, in the church,” he said, a warmth of great joy filling him. “By George, I thought I’d lost you!”
They were married the following Sunday, Sky insisting on paying for everything. A glorious two-week honeymoon was spent in a small village on the coast away from the war. There Tom experienced such happiness he had only dreamed of. Marlene clung to him with a fierce desire.
The days sped by, and on their way back to Richmond, Tom finally asked, “Have you heard from Spence?”
She was startled by the question, then said in a strange, dead tone, “Didn’t you know, Tom? He was killed in action.”
The words hit him like a sledge hammer. He put his arm around Marlene, thinking of the good days with the big blond man. Finally he said quietly, “I’ll miss him.”
“So will I,” Marlene whispered, and then he saw a single tear run down her cheek.
CHAPTER THREE
The Wrong Man
From the firing of the first shot at Fort Sumter, both North and South knew there was no turning back. The struggle was not like other wars, for after the last guns were fired in foreign wars, the troops could pack up and return home. This was a civil war—a war within a family, brother against brother. In some respects it was like a lovers’ quarrel, in that once the actual fighting is done, the lovers must become reconciled. The North and the South would have to learn to live together after the shooting and the tumult faded.
But during the years from the first bloody battle at Manassas all the way to the bitter end at Appomattox, there was little time to think of what would come after the war. For despite the heavy advantages of the North in men and arms, it took everything both sides could muster simply to keep going forward.
The North seemed to have the best of it, for they possessed all the great material factors. These advantages, important from the beginning, became more significant as the conflict continued and the superior economy of the North became geared for war production. They had a larger manpower reservoir from which to draw men, for there were 23 states still in the Union with a population of 22 million. There were only 11 Confederate states with a population of about 9 million, of whom 3.5 million were slaves.
In industrial production, the North had an even greater advantage, for Southern industry in areas necessary for conducting a war was almost nonexistent. In the first year of the war, Northern factories converted to war production; but throughout the struggle, the South had to rely on Europe for its arsenal.
In addition to industrial superiority, the North had a transportation system superior in every respect to that of the South. The North had, for example, 20,000 miles of railroads, while the Confederacy, which comprised at least as large a land area, had only 10,000 miles. As the war continued the Confederate railroad system steadily deteriorated, and by the last year and a half of the struggle it had almost collapsed.
But all this did not mean that the South had no chance to win the war. For one thing, it was fighting a defensive war on its own land and had the advantage of familiarity with the territory. It was fighting for its very existence, while the Northern public was far less united in support of the war. All throughout the war the North’s will to continue the war wavered, and at any point the struggle might have been called off.
But all of this was theory during the war, and Tom Winslow and others in the Blades thought little about the pros and cons. As the years rolled by, and names such as Shiloh, Antietam, and Gettysburg became a part of the language, the men in gray moved from one bloody battlefield to another. Their ranks grew thin, for when a man fell, there was no replacement.
Slowly the Army of Northern Virginia was driven back by Grant, whose troops suffered terrible losses. Finally in September of 1864, Lee’s army was entrenched at Petersburg, which everyone knew was the last stand of the Southern Confederacy. If Petersburg fell, the Federals could march into Richmond at will.
The Third Virginia formed part of Lee’s line, and Tom and the other tattered veterans settled down to trench warfare. It was a grubby life, wallowing in mud with moccasins slithering around in a man’s boots; but to lift a head above the trench was to invite sudden death at the hands of the Federal sharpshooters. At the beginning of the month the supply of corn was exhausted, and hunger stalked the trenches. Wade Hampton brought temporary relief by a daring raid behind the Union lines with 4,000 cavalry, capturing 2,400 head of cattle and 300 troopers.
Tom had risen to sergeant, and when he scrambled back to headquarters after a summons, he found Mark waiting for him, a smile on Mark’s face. “Keep your head down, Tom,” he said. “The Yanks have been lobbing shells over this morning.”
“You hear anything from home?” Tom asked. He had heard nothing from Marlene in months, and the strain showed on his lean face.
“Got a letter from the folks,” Mark nodded, pulling an envelope from his pocket. “It’s for both of us.” He watched while Tom opened it with unsteady hands, knowing that it would bring him no peace. Blast that woman, he thought savagely. The least she could do is write! He had watched Tom deteriorate since his marriage, but had been helpless to do anything. At first, he remembered, Marlene had written regularly, but then the letters slowed, and finally stopped altogether. Tom had been home only twice in t
he last two years, and both times he had returned with a spirit dulled by his visit.
Tom looked up, his face empty. “Sounds like things are bad at home.” He didn’t mention Marlene, but Mark knew what he was thinking.
“Look, Tom,” Mark said, “Colonel Lee wants to give some of the men leaves. Usually an aide gets that little plum, but Shelby owes me a favor. I talked to him and he agreed. You’ll leave tomorrow at dawn.”
Excitement flared in Tom’s eyes. “How long can I have, Mark?”
“Depends on how soon we go into action, but I think you can count on at least a week.”
Tom smiled, then looked down to hide the expression on his face. “Thanks, Mark.”
“Sure. When you see the folks, don’t tell them how bad things are. Now, we’ve just got a Christmas present from Wade Hampton.” He explained about the raid, adding, “Get over to the quartermaster for your share of the beef.”
Tom moved quickly, arguing the sergeant in charge of distributing the beef out of a larger share than he first offered. He put the quarter of beef, still dripping with blood, into a sack, then made his way back to the trenches. The first man he saw was Lieutenant Thad Novak, and he grinned, saying, “Christmas gift, Lieutenant!”
Novak, a dark young man who’d gotten a brevet promotion from General Lee for his bravery at Antietam, stared at the sack. “Tom, that’s not something to eat, is it?” Novak continued staring as Tom shook the meat out of the sack, then said, “Thank you, Jesus!”
“Well, sure, but I guess General Hampton was the instrument of the Lord this time.” Mark explained about the raid, and then Novak called out, “Dooley—come out here.”
At his call, a short, undersized soldier popped up, ran across the opening, dodging like a jackrabbit when musket balls made miniature geysers in the mud. He threw himself headfirst into the trench where the two men stood, and after wiping the mud from his eyes, saw the meat.
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