Spake As a Dragon (4 page)

Colonel Wilcox captured the remaining
Patriot combatants along with the wounded Patriots that had not
withdrawn with their commander. The British were now in command of
Scarburg Mill. The two wagons that had been so closely guarded
since leaving Georgia were nowhere to be seen. The two teams of
mules were tied to a nearby tree and some charred remnants of wood
could be seen smoldering close-by. Identification of the pile of
burnt wood was easy. The British could see it was the remains of
wagons, since three of the wheels, which had not been totally
consumed by the fire, were still ablaze. Whatever the wagons
contained was nowhere to be seen.

During the fighting of the first day
and continually through the fierceness of the battle the next day,
John, a non-combatant, administered first aid and comfort, without
regards to his safety, to both the British and the Patriots alike.
He and his family provided the wounded with water and offered
comfort, throughout the heat of the battle. Sheets and pillowcases
were torn into strips and used as bandages for the wounded of both
sides.

Later, witnesses would attest that
John Scarburg,
over the age of seventy,
and afflicted with a severe debilitating case of arthritis in his
knees, was constantly seen kneeling beside mortally wounded British
Redcoats. His feeble, old hands gently holding on to the hands of
the dying provided them comfort during their last few minutes of
life. Because of John, they did not meet their maker alone. At
times, he could be seen praying with a dying soldier, not worrying
whether he was a Whig or a Tory, to
John
he simply was a frightened, dying young man.

John Scarburg
was not the only person who supplied first-aid and comfort to the
soldiers who fought at the
Scarburg Mill
.
His entire family was involved, including two of his sons, his
daughters and his wife.

The following morning, the
15
^th
of April, Easter Sunday, the creek was again
covered in a dense fog as the British drummer boy played
“Assembly”
to the remainder of the British soldiers. The
Redcoats fell into formation and watched silently as
John Scarburg
along with his two oldest sons, William
and Isaac, were led from the Mill. All three had their arms bound
behind their backs. Neither of the three had fired a shot during
the entire battle, so it was a surprise that the British had them
imprisoning.

Thomas, John’s
youngest
son, stood crying in the doorway of the mill.
He clutched his mother’s apron as she tearfully watched her husband
and two sons being marched from the Mill.

Colonel Wilcox led the three men to
the huge oak tree. Usually the oak was a place of laughter and tall
tales, but not today. The proceedings this day was somber. There
was no amusement here.

The assembled soldiers, who had been
standing in a perfect military formation, slowly began to form a
semi-circle around the men at the tree. Three ropes, tied with
nooses, were thrown over the largest limb closest to the ground.
John, wearing a hat with a black ostrich
feather
along with his two sons was ordered to step upon the
bench, and their British guards placed the nooses about their
necks. The three men offered no resistance.

John
directed
a question to Colonel Wilcox. The assembled soldiers close to the
bench heard the exchange.
John
requested a
few words with his young son Thomas. Colonel Wilcox, an
accomplished adversary, was not without compassion. He granted
John’s
request.

Motioning to one of his red-coated
soldiers Thomas was brought to his father.

“
My son, you have to be
brave, you will now be the man of the family.” As his father
talked, Thomas whimpered and sniffled trying hard not to cry. “Come
close son, I have something to tell.”

Thomas walked forward, stepped upon
the bench beside his father.
John
bent
over placing his mouth close to Thomas’ ear. He spoke softly. Young
Thomas would nod his head and answer, “Yes, Pa, I hear you, but I
don’t understand. Is it the big Bible?”

“
Yes, but don’t worry my
son, someday it will make sense to you. Promise me you will never
forget. Keep this black ostrich plume to remember me by, and
someday you will find it will be most valuable.”

For a moment, he hugged his father’s
leg and refused to let go. A redcoat stepped forward and removed
the small lad from the hangman’s bench.

John
watched
helplessly as Thomas, head bowed walked slowly back toward the Mill
to his mother. He stopped, turned and said in a voice loud enough
for all to hear, “Yes, Poppa, I promise, I
will
remember. I
won’t ever forget!”

A wet tear slowly filled the corner of
the old man’s eye, and slowly rolled down his cheek, and dripped
upon the dirt where so many happy tales had been told. From this
day forward, the pleasantness would forever be tarnished by the
act, which is about to unfold.

The young drummer boy, not much older
than young Thomas, hesitantly but obediently, began to beat his
drum slowly,
‘Rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat’
...

Addressing the prisoners, “Dost any
request a last word?”

John looking upward toward the heavens
said, “Resurrection Sunday, how fitting!”

The Colonel gave the signal, a couple
of Redcoats kicked the bench, now the three Ingram men dangled at
the end of their ropes. A number of the soldiers turned their heads
as the hanged men kicked and gasped for air silently for a few
moments. Soon the thrashing and struggling ceased, they were
dead.

What is the purpose of the execution
of these three men? Some say, the Colonel thinks they are Patriots
who have engaged in the battle. Clearly, dozens of British soldiers
watching the murder of these three innocent men can offer evidence
to the contrary. Others say it is simply retaliation for the ambush
that has taken place. Did the Colonel want this performance to
serve as a lesson to the rebellious backwoodsman? If so, it only
provides the frontiersmen with fresh resolve to defeat the
Redcoats; regardless of Colonel Wilcox’s intent, three good,
honorable men, swinging gently in the breeze, are now
dead.

DREAM OR
VISION?

Robert lay there semi-conscious, he
thinks, dreams or sees a vision:
that is my family, little
Thomas is my father and he stood on that wooden bench his ears
receptive to the secret my Grandfather told him, I...I... am a part
of them
... he resolves himself to the fact that he is dying,
but life he realizes is nothing but a short journey with death as
its final destination, a destination, which he is about to
reach.

Even though, Robert’s family once
fought bravely for the young United States of America. Robert along
with his sons Luke and Matthew are now fighting against this very
flag his forefathers fought, bled and died for. How can this be?
This cannot be real
, he thought but quickly realizing how
true it is as another Yankee bullet ricocheted off the rock he is
leaning against.

The Battle of Gettysburg is indeed
very real it is not a dream.

Chapter Six

DAY THREE OF THE
BATTLE

Luke spends most of the morning of the
third day in the trees on Seminary Ridge. He is going man to man up
and down the line of rebel soldiers seeking information about his
father and brother. These grey-clad young men digging at the earth
with their bare hands were not concerned with the activities of
yesterday, Thursday the 2
^nd
of July. It is today, Friday
that worries them the most. Yesterday they were alive at the
setting of the sun today they figure they will not be. The
awareness of Death hovers over them like an evil fog.

The remaining members of ‘E’ Company,
48
^th
Alabama Infantry have been moved from the vicinity
of the Devil’s Den and Little Roundtop and re-assigned to Major
General Joseph Pickett’s Division. General Pickett’s men are
situated on a hillside known as Seminary Ridge, approximately
three-fourths of a mile east of the Union lines, which are
concentrated on Cemetery Ridge. The Union forces now control the
high grounds. High grounds with a small stonewall fronting the
Rebels. In the early days of the Civil War, it was quickly learned
that any fortifications, even a small stonewall, was almost
impregnable to a force of unprotected foes. So it was to be this
day.

The Rebs scratching at the earth with
their hands are war-weary veterans that have ‘seen the elephant’
many times before. In their bones, they know another terrible
engagement is at hand. They also know that many of them will not
see another sunrise. Fearing this beautiful July Friday would be
their last day on earth they are digging holes and hiding their
last earthly treasures – Luke watches as one soldier slips a
wedding ring from his finger, tears a scrap of cloth from his
shirt, wraps it around the ring and gently cover it with dirt.
Another folds a scrap of paper with a note to his wife and deposits
it in his hole. He knows it will be of no use giving it to one of
his friends for safekeeping, they probably will not be alive
either. Another hides a tintype picture of his wife and two young
children. The sadness of these feeble efforts by the men is almost
unbearable.

As Luke walks among the brave young
heroes, he thinks, ‘
might this be my last July morning too?’
He doesn’t spend time digging holes; he has nothing of worth to put
in them. The only thing he has of value is his Grandfather Thomas’
pocket watch, but he cannot see himself burying it, regardless of
what happens the watch will stay with him. His only thoughts are of
his father and brother Matthew. He had found a Negro
stretcher-bearer and described the boulder Robert and Matthew were
hiding behind. Did the black man find them? Were they still alive?
Before he has time to dwell on these questions, one hundred and
sixty rebel cannons open fire toward the Union line. Their fire
rises to a crescendo of noise that is deafening. The time is one
p.m.

The lines of sweaty Confederate
soldiers fall face down upon the hard, cool, earth. Many pray
silently, others pray out loud. Most have their hands over their
ears trying to shield the thunderous roar of the cannons and the
whine of the heinous balls of death that are being hurled over
their heads toward the Union line. The roar of the Confederate
cannons was awe-inspiring, for the gray-clad warriors believed the
Yankees could not have withstood such a horrendous hail of
cannonballs. Their spirits were greatly uplifted; however, little
did they know that the cannoneers had elevated their shot to the
point that most of the cannonballs sailed over the heads of the
Yankees, safely secured behind the small stonewall, and fell
harmlessly far behind the Union lines.

With their heads pushed into the dirt
and leaves, most do not see the stately gentlemen slowly
approaching from their right. As the cannonade stops and the air
begin to clear – Luke sees the man. He is standing so close to the
gentleman and his large iron-grey horse he could reach out and
touch them both if he so desired. He is within arms reach of his
beloved commander – the leader of the Army of Northern Virginia, a
man thought by his courageous followers to be almost
Godlike.

Luke stumbles and almost falls. He
grabs the back of the General’s saddle to steady himself. Realizing
what he has just done he removes his grey forage cap, bows his head
and apologizes profusely for touching the General’s
saddle.

“
Here son, no apology
necessary,” the General says, extending his hand to help
Luke.

“
Thank
you...Sir...uh...uh...General.”

“
Where are you from
Lad?”

“
Alabama Sir, I’m from
Alabama. I belong to the 48
^th
.”

“
Ah, good state Alabama,
fine fighting men,” he speaks but his thoughts are elsewhere.
Reaching out again, the General shook Luke’s hand, tips his hat and
began to ride away on his splendid grey horse. Looking back over
his shoulder he speaks to Luke, “Good luck son, may God be with you
this day.”

ROBERT E. LEE

The man in the saddle is the general
in charge of the Army of Northern Virginia – Robert E. Lee, or
Bobby Lee as his men affectionately call him. Mounted on Traveller
his grey stallion.

Today General Lee is meeting with one
of his commanders Lieutenant General James Longstreet. He is giving
Longstreet his order to attack. In an earlier staff meeting,
Longstreet had arduously objected to the plan to attack the center
of General Meade’s line.

From the woods of Seminary Ridge,
where the rebel forces would assemble and begin their charge, all
the way to the defenders on the opposing Cemetery Ridge is an open
expanse of field covered in nothing but grass for three-quarters of
a mile. The Emmitsburg Road bisects this long stretch of openness.
To make matters worse, this road is bordered on both sides with a
well made, split rail fence. General Longstreet knows a charge of
one-forth of a mile to a well-entrenched enemy is murderous, but to
go another extra half mile will be a disaster. He politely, and in
proper military fashion requests his commander, General Lee, to
reconsider. Lee will not. Bobby Lee does not believe his boys can
be defeated. They never have been previously. He knows the open
field is risky, but not suicidal. He feels his men can and will do
the impossible.