Crossing (48 page)

As the winter drew on, Yancy could sense that Jackson grew more and more homesick. Often after work he would take a ride on his favorite mount, Little Sorrel, and wander along the riverbank.

Once he met Yancy, who, needing the fresh biting air of February to clear his mind, was by the banks of the quiet river. He was walking along, leading Midnight, when Jackson came up on him. Yancy came to attention and saluted, but Jackson made a careless gesture and said, “At ease, at ease, Lieutenant. May I join you?”

“Of course, sir, it would be my pleasure.”

They walked along in silence for a while. Jackson stopped and stared across the river. “They’re still over there,” he said grimly. “They’ve got a new commanding officer, did you know?”

“Yes, sir,” Yancy answered. “My friends in Richmond send me the papers when there is important news in them. General Hooker was appointed just a few weeks ago, was he not?”

“Mmm,” Jackson assented. “Our intelligence has a lot on him. Acquitted himself admirably during the Seven Days and Second Manassas. Reported to be courageous and a military professional. He floundered at Fredericksburg, as they all did. It’s said, and I believe, that it was probably due to deficiencies in his commanding officer, General Burnside. Hooker replaced him.”

“ ‘Fighting Joe Hooker’ he’s called,” Yancy said.

“Yes, and that’s why I think that soon there is going to be a fight,” Jackson said, narrowing his eyes as if he could see Hooker’s thousands arrayed across the river.

Both of them searched that forbidding west bank for long moments, then by mutual assent they turned and started walking again.

At length Jackson said, “Did you know, Yancy, that I haven’t seen my home in Lexington for almost two years? And it’s been nearly a year since I’ve seen Anna … and I have yet to see my baby daughter.”

Yancy was astonished, both that Jackson was confiding in him in this manner and that he had used his given name. It was the first time, he realized, that the formal and reticent man had ever called him ‘Yancy.’
He must be horribly homesick
, Yancy thought with great sympathy.

As he reflected on General Jackson’s plight, he realized that his own troubles were small compared to his commanding officer’s. During the last two years, he had seen his family several times, and he had seen the Haydens and Lorena fairly often. General Jackson’s daughter was almost three months old now, and he had never set eyes on her. Yancy imagined that the longing he felt for Lorena was not to be compared with Jackson’s yearning for his daughter, especially after he had lost two babies, one with his first wife, Elinor; and then he and Anna had lost their daughter in 1858.

Quietly Yancy said, “Sir, I pray for you all the time, but now I will pray fervently that you may see Mrs. Jackson and your daughter very soon.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Tremayne,” he said, returning to his usual cool reserve. They walked on and then he added, “Her name is Julia. Julia Laura. And yes, may the merciful and bountiful Lord grant that I see her soon.”

As the winter melted into Virginia’s warm and welcoming spring, General Jackson grew restless. At his headquarters at Moss Neck he had too many visitors, both soldiers and civilian admirers. He was entirely too accessible there. Perhaps, too, echoes of General Lee’s gentle teasing at Jackson’s dinner still faintly hung on in his mind; Jackson knew very well that General Lee always headquartered in a plain soldier’s tent, with only his camping equipment, a camp stove, a military desk, and a cot. His only accessory was a hen that stayed under his cot and laid an egg for him every morning.

The fact that Jackson’s health had deteriorated during the winter—and his physician’s strict orders that he must not camp outdoors—faded from his disciplined mind. He determined to move to a tent headquarters at Hamilton’s Crossing, very near to General Lee, and he set the move for March 15. General Jackson demanded promptness at all times and in all endeavors, and so by the evening of the fifteenth he was well established, his headquarters already organized, and his staff fully bivouacked, too. They began their routine again, that of drill and Jackson’s endless reports and the mountain of administrative tasks of running an army corps.

On the eighteenth, the weather was particularly inviting. A balmy breeze stirred the air that was filled with spring butterflies and dandelion fluffs. The sun was kind, a pleasant warmth on the shoulders, and a benevolent lemon yellow glow.

Jackson, in an unusually good mood, dismissed his clerks and determined to go outside and sit in the sun for a while and read the Bible. Jim spread a blanket for him under a little dogwood tree just by his tent. It was in full flower, the simple white blossoms dazzling.

Around Jackson, soldiers worked gathering firewood, helping Jim arrange the general’s stores, policing the area just around the general’s headquarters. His staff and aides were also outside enjoying the day, some quietly reading; some gathered in groups talking about battles, horses, sabers, rifles, ammunition—all the things that all soldiers were interested in.

For once Sandy Owens had been able to join Yancy, Peyton, and Chuckins. Peyton had managed to bribe the supply wagon team that was setting up their tents, and they had put up Peyton’s tent in a favored spot, just behind and to the right of General Jackson’s tent. Today they had set up a friendly horseshoe competition. Naturally, with his artilleryman’s eye, Sandy Owens was beating the tar out of the other three.

They saw Dr. Hunter McGuire, chief medical officer of the First Corps, and also General Jackson’s personal physician, by his request. McGuire was young, with handsome, sensitive features. When the staff and soldiers saw the stricken look on the doctor’s face, they stopped what they were doing and watched him as he slowly walked, shoulders bowed, to Jackson.

Jackson looked up, and seeing McGuire’s face, scrambled to his feet.

McGuire came close to him and murmured something to him that no one could hear.

Jackson reacted with shock, his eyes widening and his jaw convulsively clenching. Then, to everyone’s astonishment and dismay, he walked—almost stumbled—to a tall stump of a sweetgum tree that had been cut to accommodate the campsite. Jackson sank down on it, bowed his head, and began to sob. This, from the man that had stared dry-eyed at thousands of his beloved men lying on the bloody field at Sharpsburg, was the most heart-wrenching sight had ever seen.

Even before they knew what had happened, tears began to roll down Chuckins’s face.

The news spread fast among the still, silent men. Little Janie Corbin had died of scarlet fever.

Jackson mourned for her. His men mourned for their beloved general.

Soon, however, General Jackson and his men had cause for rejoicing.

On a dreary Monday, April 20, at noon, Jackson and his escort rode to Guiney Railroad Station. Before the train had come to a complete stop, he jumped up and pushed his way into the coach. There he saw his daughter for the first time.

She was fat, pink, and sleepy. Anna recalled that he would not take her in his arms because of his dripping coat, but he stared at her and made funny little baby coos to her. Jackson had arranged for them to stay at the Yerby home, which was near his headquarters. Once they arrived and were in the privacy of their room, Anna wrote:

On April 23, when Julia was five months old, Anna and General Jackson decided to have her baptized at the Yerby home. The ceremony was to be done by Reverend B. Tucker Lacy, a minister who had long been with the valley troops and who Jackson had named the unofficial chaplain general for the Second Corps.

When the staff and aides heard of the baptism, Yancy went to Reverend Lacy’s tent. “Sir, many of the aides would like to attend the baptism. May we have permission?”

The chaplain refused, though not in an unkindly manner: “I’m sorry, Lieutenant Tremayne, but it is to be a private service.”

“Yes, sir,” Yancy said, crestfallen. But then, gathering his courage, he went to General Jackson’s tent.

Even with Anna and Laura there, Jackson still attended to all of his military duties. Jackson sat at his desk and called Yancy in at his request.

“General Jackson, sir. I’ve just been to see Reverend Lacy to ask permission to attend Miss Julia Jackson’s baptism. But he refused, saying that it was to be a private service. Several of us aides hoped to attend, so may we at least assemble outside and perhaps see Miss Julia and you and Mrs. Jackson after the ceremony?”

Expansively happily, Jackson waved his hand. “Mrs. Jackson and I would be glad for you and the other aides to attend. I request that you give Mrs. Yerby a list, so that she might know how many people we have to accommodate. But you and the rest of my staff are welcome.”

Yancy dashed off to tell the others.

The Yerby parlor, though it was a generous room of large proportions, was crowded that spring afternoon. Yancy and many of the other young men had never witnessed the Presbyterian baptismal rite. He was awed at the solemnity of the occasion and the resounding, profound, eternal words of the ceremony from the
Book of Common Prayer
. Yancy noticed the beatific look on Stonewall Jackson’s war-hardened features and thought he had never seen such pure happiness on a man’s face.

The Yerbys’ hospitality was such that they had prepared light refreshments on the lawn for the soldiers that attended. Two long tables, set with creamy white tablecloths, held a big bowl of fruit punch, gallons of iced tea with fresh mint, fresh-squeezed lemonade, and pitchers of thick, cool buttermilk. On the other table were oatmeal cookies, slices of still-warm nut bread, a tall frothy sponge cake, peach slices, apple slices, fat cherries, nectarines, and, in an amusing bow to General Jackson, a bowl of cheery yellow lemons.