Drummer Boy at Bull Run (12 page)

Mr. Carter pulled up his wagon to watch them and turned to Leah. “Maybe you better get some of those blackberries for us. They wouldn’t go down bad.”

Leah said, “All right, Pa.” Grabbing a bucket out of the wagon, she leaped to the ground and soon the
rich, plump fruit was striking the bottom of her bucket with a drumming sound.

A young soldier came up, his mouth berry-stained. “Hey, missy,” he said with a wide grin, “you going to the battle?”

“My pa and I, we’re sutlers,” she said. She looked him over carefully. He seemed to be no more than sixteen or seventeen. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll get separated?”

“Why, we’re headed right toward Centerville. I know it as well as I know my own front door,” he said and waved jauntily. “As a matter of fact, I live only ten miles over thataway. From what I hear, the Rebels are holed up at Centerville. We’ll hit them there and run them all the way back to Richmond!”

“I wish you good luck,” Leah said.

“Aw, we’ll be all right,” the young soldier said. “Here, let me help you fill that bucket up.” He was a quick-moving young man, and soon Leah’s bucket was filled with the juicy fruit. He grinned again and said, “I wish you good luck too, missy. You be careful now. Stay back when the fighting starts.”

Leah moved back to the wagon, climbed on board, and offered the fruit to her father.

He took a berry, looked at it, and put it into his mouth. “My,” he said, “that is good! Always was partial to a fresh berry.”

They ate slowly, laughing as the sergeants and corporals went into the blackberry patch to rout the wandering soldiers back onto the road.

“They’ll have chiggers all over ’em, I bet,” Leah said. “Some of them act like they’ve never been in a blackberry patch. Chiggers and blackberries just go together, don’t they?”

“They sure do.” Her father took another berry and chewed it thoughtfully “I’m worried about Royal. Just can’t help it, Leah. When the battle starts, there’s no telling what’ll happen.” He spoke to the horses then, and they moved forward again.

When they got to Centerville they discovered that the Rebels had pulled back. “There won’t be any battle here today,” Ira Pickens said. His regiment was camping just outside of the town, and he had come back to find them. “But I reckon they’ll be right ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Come on and eat supper with us,” Leah said. “Maybe I can get one more letter off to that sweet heart of yours.”

“Sounds good to me,” Ira said eagerly. “Just a minute—I’ve got something for you.”

He disappeared and was back shortly carrying a chicken, whose neck had been wrung. Holding it up, he said, “I liberated this here bird.”

“Ira, you
stole
that chicken!”

“I did not neither,” he exclaimed indignantly. “I found it.”

Leah could not help laughing. “I know where you found it too. In some poor farmer’s chicken yard! He’ll be lucky if he’s got a chicken left after this bunch gets by!”

Nevertheless, she took the bird and plucked and dressed it. That night they had a fine supper of fried chicken and baked potatoes.

Ira left shortly afterward, saying, “The sergeant said if we’re not back he’s going to pull all our hair out or worse. So I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The next morning the army began to move early, and as they left Centerville, her father looked back. “Look at what’s coming, Leah,” he said.

Several fine carriages were approaching.

“My, who are they, Pa?”

“That man in the front’s a congressman. I heard him make a speech once.”

The carriages passed. The fine horses were going at practically a gallop.

When they were gone, he said, “Those men are foolish! Why, they’ve got their wives and children with them!”

“And they’ve got picnic baskets too. They’re just going out to see the battle like it was some kind of entertainment.” She was indignant. “I don’t think that’s right, Pa.”

“No, it’s not, and it’s not wise either. A man would be a fool to take little children out to a thing like this.”

The procession slowed down late that afternoon, and finally they saw that the army was pitching camp again.

Later, as they were cooking supper, Royal came by. “You got anything to eat?” he said with a grin. “All we’ve got is hardtack. Make a man break a tooth trying to chew it.”

“You sit down, and I’ll cook you the best supper you’ve ever had,” Leah said firmly. She began scurrying around, collecting the elements for a meal.

Soon Royal said, “Boy, that smells good.” And finally, when it was put before him, he ate ravenously.

“You hear any talk about the Rebels?” their father asked. “All we hear is gossip back here.”

Royal shrugged his shoulders. “Well, that’s about all we get up front too. But ahead of us a little ways there’s a creek, a little stream called Bull Run. What the officers say is that the Rebels have pulled back
across Bull Run Creek and are just waiting for us. Guess we’ll hit ’em first thing in the morning.”

Mr. Carter picked up a stick and began to stir the hot coals under the coffeepot. They broke into flames, and the three of them watched for a while.

Finally Royal said, “You two stay well back out of this. Those cannon can fire a mile, I guess. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

Leah said impulsively, “I wish you were out of it too, Royal.”

“Well, I’m not. We’re in it for sure now.” He appeared gloomy and sipped the coffee that she gave him, silent for a long time. “I hope this settles it. Maybe if we whip ’em bad enough they’ll realize that they can’t stand up against us. From what I hear, a lot of people in the South didn’t want this war anyway.”

“I wish that would happen,” their father said.

He looked sickly in the feeble flickering of the small fire, his face lined. He had eaten practically nothing, Leah noticed, which was a bad sign.

“I worry about you, Royal, and the other boys from our town.” He peered hard into the darkness ahead. “I worry about those other boys too. And about the Majorses. I sure would hate for anything to happen to them.”

Leah passed around the can of blackberries for dessert.

As they ate, Royal said, rather awkwardly, “Well, I guess this might sound funny, but there’s something I want to say.”

“What is it, son?”

Royal appeared to have lost his appetite. He looked into the fire for a long time, then up at the others. “I’m not expecting anything to happen, you
know. But just in case something does, Pa, I want to tell you what a good father you’ve been to me. You and Ma—why no boy had better parents!”

Something about the way he spoke frightened Leah, but she could say nothing. A huge lump was in her throat at the very idea that Royal might be killed, and she had to blink back tears.

Royal, seeing his father and sister staring at him, said quickly, “Well, I might as well say it. I might not make it tomorrow. Some of us sure won’t, if we tangle with the Rebs.” He straightened and nodded firmly, “But if I don’t make it, I want you to know I’ll be with Jesus. I’m not afraid to die, but—like every man, I guess—I’d miss you, my family, and the things I always planned on doing. If I have to die for our country, I’ll do it. But we won’t lose. God’s on our side.”

Leah was moved by his words. Later, after Royal had left, she said, “Pa, is that right—that God’s on our side?”

“Well, we would like to think that,” her father said slowly. “Why,” he asked, “don’t you think He is?”

Leah looked off into the darkness where her brother had disappeared, then farther off to where she knew the enemy troops lay. “I don’t know, Pa. I’m pretty sure there are people over there thinking God’s on their side. So I just don’t know.”

Leah was depressed by the thought of the impending conflict. She went to bed but did not sleep well—wondering about and dreading the battle that would take place the next day.

T
he two armies that lay on opposite sides of Bull Run Creek were amateurs at the art of war. The Northern commander, General Irving McDowell, reported in disgust, “[The troops] stopped every moment to pick blackberries or get water; they would not keep in ranks, or do as much as you please. When they came where water was fresh, they would pour the old water out of their canteens and fill them with fresh water. They were not used to denying themselves much; they were not used to journeys on foot.”

Thus it was that when the main column of Union troops passed through a small town called Fairfax, the heat and fatigue of the day’s march had not dimmed their high spirits. They ransacked the neighborhood for milk, butter, eggs, and poultry. Here and there a stray shot echoed where a soldier had killed not a deer but one of the cattle that were quietly grazing. There was even some sportive barn burning—and vandalizing and torching of homes from which the occupants had fled.

But soon enough that aspect of the affair ceased, and the Union troops were thrown against the ground occupied by Confederate General Beauregard’s center.

Suddenly a volley of gunfire came from the green foliage, startling Royal, and the air was thick, he thought, with leaden rain. A white cloud rose above the trees, and a wild yell like the whoop of war-painted Indians was heard above the din of battle as General Longstreet’s brigade delivered the first round and sent up its first battle cry.

Colonel William Tecumseh Sherman, soon to be promoted to general and later to be the right-hand man of General Grant, said afterward, “For the first time in my life I saw cannonball strike men and crash through the trees and saplings above us and around us.”

Royal turned to look his squad over and saw that they were very apprehensive.

The lieutenant came by. “Royal, watch the men. They’re not used to this. They may try to run.”

Royal forced a smile. “Well, who’s going to watch me, Lieutenant? I guess you better do that.”

The lieutenant shook his head. “No, I’m not worried about you. What I’m worried about is Joe Johnston.”

“Who’s he? Oh, you mean the Confederate general?”

The lieutenant shaded his eyes with his hands and said, “He’s supposed to be camped over in the Shenandoah Valley by our General Patterson. But if he gets away and joins this fight, we’re going to have a hard time.”

What the lieutenant did not know was that General Joseph Johnston had already managed to elude the Federals under General Patterson and had moved two-thirds of his troops by train partway to the Bull Run lines. It was the first time in
history that soldiers had been transported to a battlefield by rail.

Back of the lines, Leah and her father had watched the troops nervously preparing for battle. Soon after the firing started, Dan Carter looked up in surprise. “Why, look—there’s some of our boys coming back. Wonder why they’re not going forward?”

The troops marched by, and one soldier stopped to buy some food. As Mr. Carter provided it, he asked, “Where are you going? The battle’s that way.”

The soldier, a short, overweight man with a sunburned face, said, “We’re three months’ volunteers, and our enlistment just ran out. We’re headed back to town.”

“Well, I think that’s awful,” Leah burst out. “Leaving your comrades to fight the battle alone.”

The fat soldier looked at her in embarrassment. “Well,” he said, “we done our fighting at Blackburn’s Ford. Now let the rest of them take over.” He turned and walked away.

Not long after that, they saw more carriages bringing the civilians who had driven out from Washington to witness the operations. One of the nearby sutlers said, “There’s our senator.” And some recognized other members of Congress.

“I still don’t think that’s right,” Dan Carter said stubbornly, “for those men to come out and see a battle like it was a picnic.”

* * *

Across the river, General Jackson’s corps occupied a position far right of the Union line. Lieutenant Nelson Majors had been assigned as one
of Jackson’s couriers, and he stayed slightly back as messages came to and fro from the battle.

Finally General Jackson turned and said, “Lieutenant, go see if you can find General Beauregard. Tell him we’re not getting any action at all over here on the right. Ask him for orders. See if you can find out what’s going on.”

“Yes, sir.” The lieutenant spurred his horse down the line of Confederates who had taken position behind trees and the logs that they had thrown up overnight. To his left he could hear the sound of musket fire and cannons. Finally, after some difficulty, he found General Beauregard’s headquarters.

A major stopped him and inquired about his business.

“General Jackson asked if there were any new orders. He says there’s no activity over to the right.”

At that moment a group of officers rode up, and the major said, “Wait a minute. Here’s General Johnston, just come from the Shenandoah Valley. Maybe he’ll know what’s going on.”

General Johnston took General Beauregard’s salute.

“I’m glad to see you, General,” Beauregard said. “Are your men close behind?”

“Most of them are. The rest will be here shortly.” General Johnston was a small man, neatly dressed. His uniform was impeccable. “I was expecting to find you engaged in the battle, General Beauregard.”

“I had planned,” General Beauregard said, “to attack this morning. But then I decided to let the enemy move first. Then we can move our troops to where he hits us.”

Johnston looked up and down the lines. “I don’t see any signs of an attack.” He turned his head
slightly and said, “But I hear cannon fire over to the left—and musketry too.”

“Yes,” Beauregard said, “I’ve heard the same.” He hesitated, apparently not certain what to do. He thought hard for a moment. General Johnston was the ranking officer on the field, so Beauregard suggested, “The battle is there, General. We need to throw our men into it.”

Just then Jeff’s father spurred his horse forward. Saluting, he said, “General, General Jackson would like orders, sir.”

Johnston at once said, “Tell General Jackson I said to move his troops to our left. That’s where the enemy seems to be attacking.”

“Yes, sir.”

Nelson Majors whirled his horse around and drove the animal at a dead run back to his brigade.