Authors: Ginny Dye
Carrie’s attention was drawn back to the train as the troops began to file on. The crowd chapped and cheered, and the band continued to blare forth its music as each man marched smartly into his car. Only when the last one was aboard did Carrie look toward Robert.
Across the span on the loading platform, their eyes locked. She had no idea how long he had been watching her. She drew her breath in sharply and felt the color rise in her cheeks. Still, she did not look away. As she watched, the boyish bravado forged into courage, flickered for just a moment. Once again she saw the look only she had ever seen - the flash of vulnerability that lit his eyes and twisted her heart.
“All Aboard!”
The whistle of the train accompanied the stern reminder that in moments this train would be heading for the front.
As she thought of Robert in battle, Carrie’s heart conquered her mind. She could not marry him. That did not mean he had to leave without knowing she loved him. She quickly turned to the man next to her. “Do you have a knife?” she asked urgently.
“A knife, ma’am?”
“Please, I don’t have time to explain. Do you have a knife?”
He looked at her oddly, but the desperate tone of her voice must have won him over. Reaching to his waistline, he pulled one out.
“Thank you!” Carrie grabbed it, pulled a lock of her hair out of the tightly coiled braid, and cut it off. Handing the knife back to the astonished man, she lifted her skirts, gripped the hair tightly, and ran across the platform.
Robert was standing, one foot on the step, watching her run to him, a smile on his face. The train began to pull away just as she reached him.
“Good-bye, Robert.”
His dark eyes gazed down into hers, but there was no time, even for a hug. The train was picking up speed and pulling away, and Robert was forced to swing up onto the step. Carrie jumped forward and quickly pressed her hair into his hand. “I’m counting on you to win this one,” she said in a tremulous voice.
Her mind flashed back to the first time she had presented him with a lock of her hair - the day of the Blackwell tournament. He had told her he fell in love with her that day - that moment. The tournament had been child’s play. War was not a game. It was deadly.
“I love you, Robert.”
She had just enough time to utter the words before the train pulled him out of the range of hearing. The crowds continued to cheer and wave as Carrie stood and watched Robert grow smaller. Only when he was out of sight, did she turn away.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Robert twisted and squirmed, trying to find a comfortable position on the hard ground. This night, more than any of the nine that had passed before him since he had left the train at Manasass Junction, sleep eluded him. His heart and mind refused to be stilled. He knew that tonight, more than any other, he needed sleep. The moon was high in the sky when he finally gave up the effort and pulled himself up into a sitting position against the tree that might mean the difference between life and death the next day.
Robert gazed out over the bright landscape as he tried to envision what the morrow would bring. If a man had a good enough imagination he could believe that all was right in the world. The sky was crystal clear, the moon bright and full. Its brightness cast shadows from the towering trees that were sheltering the position of their regiment. He peered around the big oak and watched the moonlight glisten off the waters of Bull Run. Sparkling particles in the stone bridge that spanned the river caught the brightness and caused the bridge to stand in stark contrast. Was it possible that in just a few hours the beauty of the scene before him would be destroyed by the roar of cannon and the shouts of contending men?
“Lieutenant?”
The voice sounding beside Robert was little more than a whisper. “Yes, Hobbs?” he whispered back. Robert had grown fond of the sixteen year old who had shown up from the hills of western Virginia, eager to do battle for the South.
“You reckon it’s true, Lieutenant? That all the waiting will be over soon?”
Robert nodded grimly. “I reckon it’s true. All the stalling and waiting is past. I believe we will face the enemy tomorrow.”
There was a long pause. Robert could envision Hobbs’ young, freckled face screwed up in intense thought, his brown eyes flashing thoughtfully under the thatch of rust-colored hair. The youth had worked harder than anyone to be ready for what would happen the next day. He had never once complained during the long, hot drills and had always been willing to do more.
“You reckon we’ll see much action? Seems kinda like we’re stuck up out of the way here.”
Robert smiled. He knew how Hobbs felt. He, too, had been keenly disappointed when his regiment had been attached to Colonel Evan’s brigade. He would have preferred to be in the thick of the battle. Everyone was sure General McDowell would focus his attack on Mitchell’s Ford. “We all will play an important role, Hobbs. We just have to be ready when the time comes.” He fervently hoped he was right. He hated the thought they would stand watch in their woods the next day, simply listening to the sounds of what many thought would be the only battle of the war. He didn’t share that sentiment with them - he simply wanted to be a part of this first great fight.
The silence grew even longer. Robert wondered if Hobbs had drifted off to sleep. He allowed his thoughts to drift to Carrie.
“You scared, Lieutenant?” Hobbs’ whisper broke the night once again.
Robert opened his mouth to speak and then stopped. He supposed he should be the strong, commanding leader and say he had no fear and that he was confident all would go well. Unbidden, Carrie’s face, with her direct eyes and open honesty, flashed before him.
Tell him the truth.....
“Sure, I’m scared, Hobbs. Who wouldn’t be?”
“Really?” the young voice gasped.
“Really,” Robert said firmly. “We’ve done all we can to get ready for this battle, but nothing ever goes just the way you plan it. And one thing is for sure.” He paused before he continued. “Not everyone is going to get out of this alive. That’s just a sad fact of war. How do I know it’s not going to be me? How do I know it’s not going to be someone I care about?”
He could almost feel Hobbs’ brown eyes boring into him as he continued. “There isn’t anything wrong with fear. Every great person has to face fear. The important thing is not to let it win out over you. You have to face your fears and not back down. Fear can actually be a good thing...”
“How’s that?” Hobbs’ voice was skeptical.
“Fear can make you sharp. It can keep you from relaxing and taking things for granted. It can make you strive to be the best you can so that the thing you fear won’t beat you. Fear can make you stronger when you realize you have conquered it.”
There was a short silence before Hobbs’ voice broke in again. “And fear can make you turn to God. That’s what my grandma said before I left home. She told me if I was ever afraid to just talk to God.” Another long pause. “I’ve been talking to God tonight, Lieutenant.”
“Got that right!”
“Me, too!”
“Amen!”
The soft chorus of whispers sounding from the night was the first evidence that anyone else was listening in on their conversation. It also meant Robert didn’t need to respond to what Hobbs had said. He realized the same anxiety that was keeping him awake was doing the same to the others. The thought gave him comfort.
One man’s rough voice broke into his thoughts. “I don’t think I realized until tonight what all this drilling and marching was about. It’s right scary to know there are thousands of men on the other side of that river who are ready to try and kill us. I been trying to get things right.” The voice paused and then continued, a little softer. “I’ve done said the Lord’s Prayer to myself seventy-five times. My mama always told me that was a good thing to do. I figure the more I say it, the holier I will get. Maybe the Lord will try a little harder to keep me safe.”
Hobbs’ laughed softly. “Tell the lieutenant what else you done, Pickins.”
The darkness proved to be a confessional.
Pickins continued in an embarrassed and slightly defiant tone. “I done threw away my deck of cards. I promised God I’d be a good moral man, I did! Told him I wouldn’t grumble about menial duties again, that I’d go to church and even quit smoking. Why, I told him if I survived the war that I would become a minister and preach the gospel!”
Robert smiled as soft chuckles surrounded him. These were good men. “Good for you, Pickins.”
Silence fell again as every man lost himself in his own thoughts. The moon was slowly gliding westward. Katydids and tree frogs kept up a steady chorus as if trying to serenade the tired men into a few hours of sleep. Robert took advantage of the quiet to let his thoughts return to Carrie. How wonderful it had been to see her at the train station. Surely she had been there just to send him off. Thoughts of her had filled his quiet moments. The look on her face when she had told him she loved him... The feel of her hand when she had pressed her lock of hair into his own hand... the sight of her watching him until he was out of sight.
Had it all been just because he was going to battle? The images that flashed through his mind both thrilled him and tormented him. She loved him, but she wouldn’t marry him. His fists clenched in frustration as he stifled a groan.
An owl hooting startled him, causing him to jump and peer around his tree. Was that the beginning of dawn starting to creep over the horizon? Trying to control the nervous twisting of his stomach, he turned his thoughts back to Carrie. Instead, his thoughts returned to his men’s comments about God - about giving their fear to Him. He had wanted to laugh at their comments - tell them they were wasting their time. Only the knowledge that he was responsible for keeping their morale up had stilled his tongue. His stomach twisted again, but this time in anger.
Robert rested his head back against the tree and tried to relax. He knew his anger was eating at him. He also had no idea what to do about it. He was angry at God for letting that slave kill his father. He was angry at God because slaves were keeping him and Carrie apart. He was angry at God for letting him love someone that would prove to be nothing but a torment to him all his life. Resisting the impulse to smash his fist into the tree behind him, he stifled a moan and buried his head in his hands. Was there to be no relief?
Just then the sharp report of a gun in the distance broke the early morning stillness. Robert reached over to grab his gun and then threw himself on his stomach so that he could peer around the tree. His sharp surveillance revealed nothing. The dark expanse of woods that bordered the field running alongside Bull Run was still. Who had fired that shot?
“Lieutenant?”
“Pass the word down, Hobbs,” Robert said quickly. “Tell everyone to be at attention. To hold their position until Colonel Evans tells them different. There is to be no movement to give away our position. It’s better to leave them guessing how many of us are here.”