The Sword (36 page)

Two days later little Flora Stuart died. The doctors did all they could, but typhoid was a devastating disease with a high mortality rate, especially among children.

Chantel and Jacob called on the Stuarts.

Flora was so devastated she could hardly speak, holding herself stiffly erect on the sofa in the sitting room, her eyes haunted and filled with sorrow.

Jeb stood by her, his hand on her shoulder. “God has taken our little girl, Mr. Steiner. But Flora and I know that she is with Him, and she suffers no more. And one blessed day we’ll see her again in heaven.”

“It is a good thing to know the Lord Jesus in these terrible times,” Jacob said, his eyes glinting with unshed tears. “He alone can comfort us in this dark night of the soul. She rejoices, General Stuart, and those who are left behind must know that and rest in Him. May the peace and blessings of God be on this house, and on you both, now and forever.”

When they left, Chantel found that she was almost angry. “I’ll never understand God, Grandpere,” she said in a low, tense voice.
“It seems that if ever He would bless someone, He would bless Miss Flora and General Stuart.”

“And He has blessed them,” Jacob said gently. “The Bible tells us that when someone dies, we must rejoice. I know that we cannot be happy and carefree on the outside. But when we know the Lord Jesus, our hearts have joy and peace always. Even when a child dies. Because we know that this earth, this old terrible world, is not our home. Our home is in heaven, a glorious place, where there are no more sorrows, no more tears. General Stuart and Miss Flora may be here, yes, and they will grieve. But their hearts are already at home with Little Flora and with the Lord Jesus. There they will always be, forever, and they will be at peace.”

T
he burden of office lay heavily on Abraham Lincoln, and not the least of his problems was General George McClellan. McClellan was a small man and was already called Little Napoleon by some of his admirers.

In all truth, he had more confidence in himself than any man ought to have. It was revealed in a letter to his wife in which he wrote: “The people think me all powerful, but I am becoming daily more disgusted with this administration. It is sickening in this extreme and makes me feel heavy at heart when I see the weakness and unfitness of those in charge of our military.”

The president often discussed military strategy and tactics with McClellan, but he saw quickly that McClellan had little confidence in anyone’s opinion except his own.

Once a secretary, who had overheard McClellan speaking arrogantly to Lincoln, said angrily, “The man is insolent! You need to get rid of him, Mr. President.”

Lincoln had said merely, “I will hold McClellan’s horse if he will only bring us success.”

A year had passed since Bull Run, and there had been minor
battles, but only one major battle in the western theater, the Battle of Shiloh. It had been bloody, and as usual the Confederates had been outnumbered, but they had driven the Yankees back, licking their wounds.

Lincoln was anxious to move on, and he had pressed his views upon McClellan, telling him, “General, you need to follow through on the same plan we had for the first attack. We could still go right through Bull Run, and we have a powerful enough army now to overcome any resistance.”

McClellan flatly refused to admit that this plan had any virtues. He stubbornly insisted that Lincoln was not a military man, and he must leave the disposition of great armies, and the military plans, to the generals. In particular, to him.

For their part, the South had been lulled into a sense of false security by their victory at Bull Run, although strategically they had accomplished little. The only grand strategy that was working at this time was the North’s blockade.

The Southern economy went downhill quickly. Meat was fifty cents a pound, butter seventy-five cents, coffee a dollar fifty cents, and tea ten dollars. All in contrast to cotton, which had fallen to five cents.

The South was hemmed in, and the blockade was working all too well. Their only hope was to be recognized by England or a foreign power that would encourage the peace party in the North to declare the war over.

Jeb was sitting on the floor playing with little Jimmy. He doted on the boy, who at the age of two was definitely showing a precocious side. He was an attractive child, resembling his father in being sturdy and having the same russet-colored hair. Jeb was throwing the boy up in the air and catching him, and little Jimmy was laughing and gasping for breath.

“Jeb, you stop that! You’re going to hurt that baby,” Flora said sternly.

“No. He likes it, don’t you, Jimmy?”

“Yes!” he said. At the age of two, he had learned a few words, and now he said, “Throw! Throw!” which was his signal for his father to toss him up into the air.

Flora came over, took little Jimmy away, and said, “You get up off the floor now, General. Dinner is on the table.”

“All right, sweetheart.” Jeb came to his feet in one swift motion and followed her into the dining room. He sat down at the table and said, “Mashed potatoes and fried chicken. What could be better?”

Flora put Jimmy in the improvised high chair then sat down.

Jeb at once bowed his head and prayed. “Lord, we thank Thee for this food and for every blessing. Bless us and our Glorious Cause, and we ask that You give us victory. In the name of Jesus, we ask this. Amen.” Immediately he dumped a huge dollop of mashed potatoes on his plate and picked up both wings. “My favorite part. You can have the white meat, Flora.”

Flora fixed a plate for little Jimmy and let him dabble in his mashed potatoes, trying to keep the mess to a minimum. Flora fixed her own plate and began to eat, but she looked up to say, “Jeb, I’m so happy that you haven’t been in any more big battles.”

“Well, I expected there to be more, but since Bull Run, all has been quiet, here at least. There have been some actions over to the west, but out there they taught the Yankees a lesson, too.”

“I hope they never come.”

Jeb’s mouth was stuffed full, and he talked around it. “Oh, they’re coming, Flora. McClellan’s built up an enormous army, well equipped. Our spies have kept tabs on him, and the latest word is that they are already beginning to move. We know they’re on their way. We just don’t know exactly where they’re going to cross into Virginia. Yet.”

Flora took a small bite from the breast, chewed it thoughtfully, and then asked, “Jeb, do you think General Johnston is the right man to lead the army?”

President Davis had appointed General Joe Johnston as commander of the Southern army. He was a slow-thinking, slow-moving, cautious man. For a moment, Jeb hesitated, and she could see that he was troubled. “Sometimes I think he’s timid, Flora, and that’s not what we need. We need men like Stonewall Jackson. I wish we had a dozen like him! Look what he’s done in the valley.”

Indeed, Stonewall Jackson’s Valley Campaign had been the only bright spot in the Confederate military picture. With one small army, Jackson had moved from place to place, traveling hundreds of miles on foot so that his men were called “Jackson’s Foot Cavalry.” He had singly defeated two Union armies.

Jeb went on, “General Jackson is the most popular man in the Confederate Army right now. Jackson scared Lincoln so bad that he pulled back two different armies so we won’t have to fight them.” When he finished, Jeb got to his feet and said, “I’ve got to go, sweetheart. I don’t know what will happen, but you’ll be all right here. We’ll never let them get to Richmond.” He leaned over, kissed her, and then picked up Jimmy and held him. “You be a good boy, Jimmy. Be good like your mother. Not like your wicked old father.” He kissed the boy, handed him to Flora, and then left.

“The Yankees are coming!”

The spies had brought word that McClellan’s huge force was headed up the peninsula, and Jeb and his cavalry were in the thick of the fighting. As usual, Clay’s 2nd Richmond Company stayed close behind their general.

The action was bloody and was called by some the Battle at Fair Oaks and by others Seven Pines. Both sides lost many men—dead, wounded, and captured.

But the most significant event was that General Joseph Johnston was severely wounded. Jefferson Davis, without hesitation, made the wisest move he had made since his inauguration as president.
He appointed Robert E. Lee to head the Southern forces. Lee at once took charge and renamed the army the Army of Northern Virginia.