On to Richmond (20 page)

             
Once again, the tears flowed down Carrie’s face.  How had Aunt Abby known her heart so well?  How was it possible that an answer to her inner struggle could arrive at just the right time?  Carrie knew the answer.  And her heart was thankful. 

             
How I wish I could sit across from you and ask you all the questions I long to.  I wonder if you are still on the plantation.  I wonder if your father has discovered your little deception yet.  I wonder what you have done with your love for Robert Borden.  So many questions - and no answers.  I find myself giving you to God on a daily basis.  It is all I can do. 

             
I thought you might wonder what has happened with Matthew.  His heart has been so torn by the coming of war.  I’m sure you have heard of the talk of western Virginia and its desire to pull away and be a separate state from the rest of Virginia.  Matthew firmly believes that the diverse opinions are irreconcilable.  Though his roots are in Virginia, he cannot bring himself to fight against the North he has grown to love.  Neither can he stand the thought of bearing arms against family and friends.  Matthew is one of the lucky ones.  So many are not being given a choice in the matter.  They are expected to fight.  Matthew, however, has been assigned as a war correspondent for the Philadelphia Enquirer.  He feels it is the best solution for him in the midst of an impossible situation.  He is gone much of the time, but he is still kind enough to stop in occasionally.  He has become like a son to me. 

             
Carrie smiled as she thought of Matthew.  She had liked him the minute she laid eyes on him.  His ready smile and friendly, open nature had made him many friends.  He and Robert had been college roommates in Philadelphia.  Their friendship had remained strong even though they had stood on separate sides of the issue now dividing the country.  It relieved her to know Robert would not have to battle against his friend. 

             
I find myself looking back with such longing for the carefree days of last summer when you arrived on my doorstep with Natalie and Sally.  It seems like another lifetime now.  Speaking of my niece, Natalie, brings up another point of sorrow for me.  My family can simply not understand why I have not returned home to stand with Virginia.  It horrifies them that I have chosen to remain in Philadelphia.  Explanations of the necessity of being here to run my business have fallen on deaf ears.  It infuriates them even further that I have not taken sides in this horrible war.  Of course, I am no longer able to have communication with them.  I hardly think they would welcome a mail carrier from the Underground Railroad!

             
Once again Carrie laughed.  Aunt Abby still had her sense of humor intact.  Or at least she had six weeks ago. How was she feeling now that the first major battle was about to take place?

             
I would love to ramble on, but I must have this letter ready to go in just a few minutes.  My contact is waiting for me to bring it to him.  Business continues to go well, the best it has been in years.  It seems war can be a boon for the economy.  I think it is not worth the cost of lives, but no one is asking my opinion. 

             
I love you, Carrie.  I long for the day when we can be together again, whether in a united country or a divided country at peace.  My prayers and thoughts will remain with you always.

             
                                                        Love,

             
                                                        Aunt Abby

             
Carrie sighed and laid aside the last page of Aunt Abby’s letter.  Turning down the wick in her lantern, she laid back against her pillows, allowing the warm darkness to envelope her.  She would read this letter over and over.  But for now, she would simply allow the words to flow through her mind and heart, content with the knowledge that God had answered the cry of her heart and given her contact with her friend. 

             
Tomorrow, she would write a reply.  She was sure Micah would find a way to send it on for her.  It didn’t matter how long it would take - it was simply good to know it would get there someday. 

             
Just before her eyes closed in sleep, her thoughts returned to Robert.  Would he make it through the battle tomorrow?  Her last waking thought was a prayer. 

CHAPTER TEN

              “Down!  Everybody down!”  Robert shouted.  He dropped to the ground, rolled over on his back, and frantically reloaded his rifle.  All around him his men were doing the same thing, their curses filling the air. 

             
Robert rose up on one knee, took quick aim, and fired.  He wouldn’t go down without a fight!  With his shot off, he dropped once more to the ground and reloaded.  He also took a moment to look around the thicket.  How many of his men had he lost?  He could count at least twenty down.

             
How many were dead?  How many wounded in need of the surgeons up the hill and behind the lines? 

             
A fierce surge of anger engulfed his body.  His mind was calm as he considered all his options.  The best he could do was to try to get as many of his men out alive as he could.  And take a few Union soldiers along the way. 

             
Robert rose on his knee again and fired.  “Yeah!”  He could feel his men’s eyes on him.  “Got me another one, boys!  Let’s do some damage and get the devil out of here!”  His voice was strong and confident. 

             
One quick look told him his act was doing the job.  Gone was the look of panic on his men’s face.  With grim determination, they rolled on their backs and reloaded. 

             
“Got one!” 

             
“Yeah!” 

             
“We’re not licked yet!”

             
Robert winced as another barrage of gunfire assaulted their position.  As the bullets whizzed over their heads, he could almost hear the attending song of death they carried with them. 

             
“We’ll get them, Lieutenant!” 

             
Fifty feet from him, Robert heard Hobb’s triumphant yell. Having reloaded his gun, the youth raised slightly to one knee and took aim.  Then, suddenly, with a scream of agony, Hobbs fell backward, his rifle landing yards away. 

             
“Hobbs!”  Robert immediately began to crawl toward him.  He now hardly noticed the rain of bullets flying around him.  Keeping his face to the ground, he crawled as fast as he could.  It took him only minutes to reach him. 

             
“Keep up your fire, men!  Prepare to retreat!”

             
Robert was relieved to see Hobbs’ chest still moving when he reached him.  He winced when he saw the widening red spot on the right side of his uniform.  He quickly ripped away the boy’s jacket.  The bullet had entered his chest, just below his left breastbone. 

             
“They got me, Lieutenant!” Hobbs gasped weakly.  His eyes glittered with fear, but he managed to squeeze a smile through the layers of grime covering his face.

             
Robert squeezed his arm.  “Hang in there, Hobbs.  We’re going to get you out of here.”

             
Hobbs shook his head.  “Leave me.  You’ll have a better chance of getting away.”  His voice trembled with the effort of speaking.

             
Robert didn’t even bother to reply.  He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a strip of cloth, and stuffed it into the hole the bullet had made.  It would at least help stop the bleeding. 

             
Then he looked around him.  All his men were on their backs reloading - and watching him.  Just then there was a brief lull in the action.  Above him, he could hear a louder roar from the Confederate guns.  More reinforcements must have arrived!  This might be their only chance. 

             
“Retreat!” 

             
Robert reached down, gathered Hobbs up, and hefted him over one shoulder.   The boy gave a single gasp of pain and then went limp.  He had passed out. 
It’s best,
Robert thought grimly.  If they didn’t make it, he wouldn’t even know. 

             
Within a few yards, Robert was gasping for breath in the dusty heat.  The long morning had already drained him.  Hobbs’ extra weight made every stride a fight.  Ducking his head, Robert ran. 

             
All around him, his men ran with him, several of them carrying other wounded comrades.  They were only part way up Henry Hill when the barrage began again.  Once more bullets hailed around them.  An answering roar from the Confederate forces added to the fracas. 

             
Run, Robert!  Don’t look!  Just run!
   Each step was an agony as Robert lurched up the hill, Hobbs’ head banging against his back.  The man in front fell with a cry.  Summoning all his strength, Robert jumped over him and continued his wild dash.  He could not help that man now. 

             
He finally reached the crest of the hill and paused for a moment, gasping as the line behind him, closed ranks once more. 

             
“Retreat!”  Colonel Evans’ voice boomed out. 

             
Robert looked around him quickly, taking in the grim situation.  Union forces were streaming in on the left, threatening to completely envelop their flank.  That was bad enough.  But off to the right, he could see a considerable body of troops approaching, completely enfilading their position and threatening their rear.

             
All around him men began to pull back.  He suppressed a groan, reshifted Hobbs’ weight, and continued to move.  “Let’s go, men.  Double-quick time!”  Robert knew his men were exhausted.  He also knew if they quit moving it would all be over.  Gritting his teeth, he continued to press on.  He would have to set the pace for them. 

             
A quick glance to the east gave him a glimmer of hope.  He could see what appeared to be clouds of dust off toward Manassas.  It could only mean more reinforcements.  They just had to hang on! 

             
Reaching the cover of the woods, Robert finally handed Hobbs over to hands reaching out to help him.  He had done all he could do.  The field surgeons would have to take over now.   “His name is Hobbs.  Take good care of him,” he said gruffly.  Then he turned back to his men. 

             
“We’re done for, Lieutenant,” one gasped.  His voice echoed the looks of despair surrounding him. 

             
“We got to get out of here while we can,” another cried. 

             
Robert wanted to nod and agree with them. 

             
Pickins was more vocal than the rest.  “I can’t believe we made it outta that slaughter hole alive!”  His eyes were burning.  “I felt like I was in the very presence of death.”  Then he turned to Robert.  “This is unfair, Lieutenant.  Somebody is to blame for getting us all killed!  But who?” His voice was as bewildered as it was angry.   “I didn’t come out here to fight this way.  I just wish the earth would crack open and let me drop in.” 

             
All around the men were nodding in assent. 

             
Robert looked around.  What was going on?  Was the battle over?  Were the Confederate troops really in hopeless retreat?  Would they at least be able to retreat fast enough to keep the Union forces from cutting off Richmond?  Where was Colonel Evans?  What about General Bee?   He had not seen a single officer since he and his men had escaped the thicket.  What could he say to keep them going?  Was there even anywhere to go?  His head pounded as the questions swarmed in his mind. 

             
“Reinforcements!” 

             
Robert gave a sigh of relief as the cry rose from the rear.  He could have cheered when he saw Colonel Hampton and his legion of South Carolinians.  Minutes later he saw what appeared to be a full brigade, fresh, dressed in battle line, and ready for the battle.  General Jackson had arrived. 

             
Robert looked around at what was left of his men.  They had been through hell, but it wasn’t over yet.  He had to do something to bolster their morale.  “I’m proud of you, men.  You fought well!”

             
“While our friends got slaughtered!”  one cried out rebelliously.

             
“That’s war,” Robert shouted grimly.  “The question is
Are we going to avenge their deaths?
or
Are we going to run?
”   His challenge hung in the air.  Robert glared around at the panicked faces staring at him.  “You boys said you wanted action.  You said you wanted to make a difference.  Well,” he paused dramatically, “you have your chance.  What choice are you going to make?”