The Last, Long Night (#5 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series) (24 page)

“Shhh…” one of the soldiers cautioned him.  “Won’t be too good if you give away our position.  We can talk down here, but we find it works best if we just whisper.  You’re more likely to stay alive that way.”

“Do you always stand in a lake?” Matthew whispered back, glad that at least the water was warm.

Brady chuckled quietly.  “We’ve had some rain,” he admitted.  “It ain’t got nowhere to go because of all this good red Georgia clay, so it just fills up our pits.”

Matthew stared around at the five men sharing his pit.  “You can’t stand up.  You can’t sit down.  What do you do?”

“We scrunch,” Brady offered.  “It ain’t the most comfortable thing, but it’s better than getting shot.” 

Matthew decided getting a story would take his mind off how uncomfortable he was.   Whispering, he asked the nearest soldier, “What’s your name?”

“Paul Maltz.”  Anticipating Matthew’s next questions he added, “I’m from a small town up in Vermont.  I have a small maple syrup farm up there. I signed up at the beginning of the war.”

“You re-enlisted in June?”

“Yep.  I’ve stayed alive this long.  I figure I want to be a part of it ending,” he said, his voice confident.  “Me and the boys don’t figure it can last much longer; especially with General Sherman and Grant running things.”  The soldier stared out into the darkness and then turned back to Matthew.  “The last three months have been real rough, but we’ve done what we set out to do.”

“How do you feel about slavery?” Matthew asked, suddenly deciding to take the story in a different direction.

“Slavery?”

Matthew could tell the question puzzled the soldier.  “The slaves will all be freed when the war is over if the Union wins.  You’re serving in an army with over one hundred thousand black soldiers.  Does that play a role in how you think about the war?”

Paul shrugged.  “I can’t say it does.  I never thought much about slavery because we never owned any and I never knew anyone who did.  We always did what needed doing ourselves.  I joined up at the beginning of the war because I believe in the United States of America.  My granddaddy was just a boy during the Revolution.  He lost his father and his brother.  I figure if having the country was worth fighting for, that it only made sense to keep it.” 

Everyone jerked to attention when a spatter of gunfire kicked up the dirt around their pit, but then they relaxed when quiet returned.  Matthew could tell the men were used to it, so he focused on hiding his fear by keeping his breathing steady.

“Slavery?” Paul continued.  “It’s not why I started to fight, but I suppose everyone deserves to be free.  The black soldiers I’ve been fighting with are good soldiers.  I’ve heard all those arguments about blacks being less than whites, and not being able to take care of themselves without white people.  I figure that’s just a bunch of hogwash.”

A murmur of agreement gave Matthew hope for the future.  One lone voice caused him concern.

“I don’t reckon they oughta be slaves,” one man growled into the darkness, “but that don’t mean they’re the same as us.  When this war is over, they’ve got to know their place.”

“Their place?” Matthew asked.

“They might be free, but they will never be equal,” he stated firmly.  “They should not be allowed to have the same freedoms we do.  They might be able to take care of themselves, and I reckon they can fight pretty good, but white people will always be better than them.  It’s just the way it is.”

His sentence broke off when a shell whistled over their heads.  Matthew listened carefully, recognized the bass note, and tensed, poking his head up a little to look back toward the lines.  He groaned when he saw the shell hit one of the supply wagons and explode on impact.  Screams indicated more than just the wagon was hit. 

Cheers from the Rebel side of the lines rent the night but then faded as soldiers popped up from muddy pits all around and fired at the Rebel side, yelling taunts as they did.  Matthew ducked down, grateful for the pit full of mud and water that kept him from becoming a Rebel’s target.

Just then a figure emerged from the shadows, leaned down to whisper to Brady, and then sprinted off, melting into the darkness once again.

Brady exchanged quiet words with the pit leader and then grinned down at Matthew. “Having a good time, Mr. Justin?”

Matthew managed to grin back.  “I figure I have the easy job here, Brady.”

“Yep.  I reckon you do.” Brady fired a few more rounds and then crouched  beside him again.  “There probably will be a lot more firing, so I don’t know that you’ll be able to talk to many more men.  I hear tell we’re supposed to keep things hopping tonight.”

“Why?”

Brady shrugged.  “That would be a question I wouldn’t expect an answer to,” he said easily.  “The order came down to keep things hopping.  I figure Sherman is up to something, but he won’t bother to tell me about it.” 

Brady glanced around at all the men during a brief lull.  “I figure Matthew needs to get back behind the lines, fellas.” 

The soldier turned back to Matthew.  “We will rip at the Rebel lines to give you some time to get back behind our lines.  When we stand up and start firing, you run like crazy.”

Matthew nodded, waited for Brady’s hand signal, then crawled out of the muddy hole, and took off running.

Thomas Cromwell strode through the door and tossed a paper onto the dining room table where everyone was seated.  “There is hope,” he announced with relief.

Carrie waited for him to explain, wondering if his news would give her more information about Robert in the Shenandoah.

“The Atlanta defenses are strong.”  He pointed at the paper.  “The Richmond
Enquirer
reports Sherman is in bad shape and is unable to get past our defenses.  Atlanta will hold.”
              “Wonderful!” one of the boarders exclaimed.  “At some point he’ll get tired of losing, just like Grant will get tired of hammering away at Petersburg, and they will leave us alone.”

Thomas nodded.  “Lincoln’s campaign is in trouble.  If McClellan wins the election, we believe there is a great chance he will end the war and let us have our freedom.  We just have to hang on.  If we can just make it to the election…

Louisa was startled when Perry burst through the door.  The sound of exploding shells had covered the sound of his stump on the porch.  “What is it?” she asked sharply, looking up from where she was rolling biscuits. 

“I’m afraid it’s over,” Perry exclaimed.  “Hood was aware Sherman would try to destroy the railroad at Macon, so he sent out General Hardee with two corps.”  His mouth tightened.

Louisa watching him carefully, knew the next news would not be good.  She thought briefly of the idyllic years she had spent as a child on Blackwell Plantation.  She had been so certain secession would solve all Southern woes.  Louisa had been convinced it would be a short war, and had ridiculed Carrie when her friend suggested the war would be a horrible thing.  The last three years had taught her many bitter lessons.

Perry was silent so long she felt compelled to say something.  “It didn’t go well?”

Perry shook his head heavily.  “Sherman had almost his entire infantry with him.  They smashed Hardee’s army and completely destroyed the railroad.  They melted railroad ties in big bonfires and wrapped them around trees.”

Louisa forced herself to take a deep breath.  Panic would do no good.  They could not leave because she would never leave her mother.  “What happens now?”

Perry looked at her with admiration.  “You’ve become a very strong woman,” he said simply.

Louisa smiled.  “Circumstances seem to call for it.  My greatest prayer is that I will not give up on my life as my mother has.”

Perry nodded, gave her a tender look, and then answered her question.  “Hood is evacuating the city tonight.  It’s either evacuate or surrender his army.  He’s leaving with the hopes he can pull Sherman away from the city to fight again.”

“I see…”  Louisa waited, knowing there was more.

“He’s opening all the stores to distribute any supplies he has left so Sherman can’t have access to them.  I hired a wagon to bring us bags of flour and some other supplies. There are already long lines of people.”

“You think Sherman will let us stay in the city?”

“I don’t know.”  Perry hesitated and then continued, his expression saying he knew his next words would upset her.  “Hood has ordered the train cars and ammunition depot to be set ablaze.”

“He’s going to blow it all up?” Louisa cried.  “What will happen to the people who live near there?  Surely it will kill them!”

“He’s ordered an evacuation of everyone within a half mile of the depots,” he hastened to assure her. 

“So they’re just going to lose their homes and everything they can’t carry,” Louisa said sarcastically.  “How kind!”

“If it helps to know, everyone handled it well.”

Louisa looked at him sharply.

“I was part of the team sent out to tell residents they had to leave.  Some of our troops passed by while they were packing, but everyone stopped to come out onto the streets and cheer them.”

Louisa nodded.  “I do know our soldiers did everything they could to save the city,” she finally said.  “Are there plans to control the burning, or will the whole city be left to go up in flames?” she asked, determined to remain calm.

“There will be men to control it,” Perry assured her. 

The explosions began late that night.  Reverberations could be heard for miles.  Nearby homes were destroyed.  Windows were blown out of every home within a half mile radius.  Hood’s entire eighty car munitions train was completely destroyed.  The only remains were metal wheels – glowing strangely in the wild orange flames and reflecting back the terror of the night.

Louisa stood quietly on the porch, Perry’s arm wrapped around her tightly.

“Your mother?” Perry asked.

Louisa glanced at him sadly.  “When I told her what was happening, she merely looked away and said nothing.  She gets thinner every day.  Her face is taking on the look of a starved person.  I can barely get her to eat or drink.”

“She gave up a long time ago,” Perry murmured.

Louisa wiped at her tears.  “I just so hoped I could bring her back to life - that a new beginning would make her care about life again.”

“The only life she cared about was Blackwell Plantation,” Perry said gently, pulling her even closer.  “Your mother doesn’t have your strength, Louisa.”

“She was calling Daddy and Nathan in her sleep last night,” Louisa admitted.  “There was even a happy look on her face for a few minutes.  It’s the happiest I’ve seen her in so long… and she was asleep.”

Perry remained silent, just holding her. 

“We can’t leave the city, you know,” Louisa said.  “Mama would never survive the move.”

Perry nodded.  “I know.  We’ll figure it out.”

“Will Sherman allow anyone to stay?”

“We don’t know yet.  The mayor is going out tomorrow to surrender the city.  We’ll find out more soon.”