Words Heard in Silence (88 page)

A
ll through the day, Sarah had been cooking. A birthday –– the first birthday that sweet little girl could really celebrate –– was an important event. Sarah was busy fixing everything the little one liked for dinner and baking a lovely spice cake, decorated with whipped cream frosting. Gen’l Charlie had brought home some fine sugar instead of the heavy brown stuff they got if they were lucky. Sarah was in her element.

At the same time, Tess had a very excited little girl to contend with. All she could think of was the party that had been promised to her. It was not obvious that Em understood what a birthday was, but she certainly understood the idea of a party. And she wanted it to start immediately.

Charlie came in from his daily rounds and went upstairs to change into his oldest coat. As surely as the sun rose and set, he knew he would be wearing birthday cake before the day was complete.

Rebecca entered their room and slid up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and laying her head on his back. "I love you, Charlotte Redmond."

Charlie stopped breathing. No one had called her Charlotte in twenty years. As far as she could remember, no one had said ‘‘I love you’ to Charlotte since her mother, that blurry figure in the recesses of her early childhood memories. She managed to find her voice. "I love you, Rebecca Redmond."

She drew in a deep satisfied breath and patted his back. "But now, my dashing husband, you have a little girl who is chomping at the bit for her 'pawty' to begin, and I think we should get downstairs before she has a full blown conniption."

Charlie laughed, settled his coat and offered Rebecca his arm. "Well, madam, shall we?"

Arm in arm, they went to the nursery and collected Em and Tess. "Well, little one, it is time. First, we will visit your mama, so you must be very good and gentle."

"Yes, Papa. I be good."

They entered Constance’s room quietly. The fragile woman was waiting for them and beckoned Em to her with open arms. "How is my big girl today?"

"Mama, I am good, Papa say."

Charlie and Constance smiled at one another over the shining black head currently cuddled onto Constance’s shoulder. "So, Emily, what are you going to do now that you are two and a big girl?"

"Unc Wichawd make me count." She held up her hand. "Dis many."

Constance laughed, an act that unfortunately set off a coughing fit. Rebecca lifted the little girl from her arms, while Charlie braced her through the episode. Finally, she regained her breath. "Well, little one, I wish I could come downstairs with you, but I am afraid I have to stay here in my bed. You have a lovely birthday, my darling girl."

"Yes, Mama. I love you."

The little girl was very quiet and solemn as Rebecca carried her downstairs. "Mama bewy sick."

"Yes sweetheart, she is."

"Mama go be with real Papa?"

Rebecca looked at he child, for the first time realizing how much this little girl really understood. "Yes, your Papa Henry and God."

Em thought for a few minutes. "You be my real mama then?"

"If you would like. Yes, I will be your Mama."

"Good. Mama be happy, Em be happy with you. Pawty now?"

Rebecca chuckled and hugged her little girl. "As soon as Papa comes down from tending to your Mama."

Rebecca, burdened with the weight of the rapidly growing child, had walked down the stairs slowly. Charlie, having settled Constance, hurried behind them.

Together the three of them entered the main dining room. Elizabeth and Richard were waiting, along with Samantha Carter and Jeremiah, Jocko and Mrs. White, and even Duncan. He had recently been elevated to the rank of Sergeant and was looking a little uncomfortable, although one could not tell if it was because of the new stripes on his tunic or the basket he held awkwardly in his hands.

Charlie relieved Rebecca of Em and announced for the room. "Ladies and gentleman, may I present the birthday girl, Miss Emily Adams."

Applause broke out as Charlie set the little girl down on her own two feet. "Your curtsy, if you please, Miss Emily."

Emily looked up to him and ran her tongue between her lips. They had secretly been practicing this every morning during breakfast and she knew what she was supposed to do. Very carefully, she held the hem of her skirt and executed her curtsy.

Charlie beamed. His little girl was starting to grow up. If he were very lucky, he would see that curtsy many more times.

Elizabeth called the child to her. "Emily, you are two now, and two year olds are starting to grow up. So tell us, which do you want first –– your dinner or your presents?"

Emily looked at every face in the room. All of which were desperate to hide grins. She looked to her Papa and sighed, her shoulders slumping a little. "Dinnew."

Rebecca was also beaming. Her little girl could think about others, something that was very important, in her opinion. "Well, little one, I think that perhaps our guests could wait for their dinner while you opened one present." Just then, a suspicious little yip was heard from the basket Duncan was holding.

Rebecca turned her head very slowly in Duncan's direction. "Is there something you want to tell us about your basket, Sergeant Nailer?"

"Um, yes, m..m..ma’am. Miss Em, the b..boys found this little g..girl and we thought you wo..would like her." The yipping had grown louder and just then a small head, white with black and brown markings, popped up out of the basket. "Tis a terrier, m……ma’am. A Jack Russell bitch."

Em clapped her hands together and looked to Rebecca for permission. When it was granted with a slight nod, Em joyfully ran across the room to Duncan and her new puppy.

Charlie looked on as Emily clasped the squirming puppy to her chest. "Upstaged by my own men –– again!"

T
he weekend had been unremarkable in most ways, other than the challenges presented by trying to house break a puppy and teach a two year old what was and was not appropriate behavior with said animal. Charlie woke early, as normal, and took a morning run in a fine, cold misty rain. Winter was not quite ready to release its hold.

He returned to the house, cleaned up and settled into his office to read the normal dispatches. There on top of the pile of documents that were a normal part of his life was a telegram.

A sense of dread clutched at his stomach. Telegrams usually meant bad news. He sat for a good five minutes with the envelope in his hand, hesitating to open it, knowing what was probably in it.

Finally, he read the dreaded but not unexpected words.

Prepare to mobilize stop Troops to be field ready within seven days stop Sheridan

The flimsy yellow paper drifted from Charlie’s numb fingers. It was time. He sat there in a stupor, for how long, he had no idea. Then the door opened and Rebecca came in with the mid-morning tea.

She stopped as soon as she saw the look on his face; approaching him slowly she placed the tray on the desk. "It is bad news."

Silently, he picked up the telegraph and handed it to her.

Her hands were trembling as she took the paper from him, tears forming in her eyes before she had even read the first line.

R
ebecca and Charlie finally shook themselves and set about the immediate tasks before them.

Rebecca left to consult with Reg, Beulah and Sarah. She had to see to her household, making sure she had the supplies, medicines and equipment she would need once the men and the facilities they provided were gone. She knew Charlie would be leaving a contingent of men behind in Culpeper. Some of the men remaining were mustering out because their terms were completed and they had chosen to make Culpeper their home. Others would be left behind to man a key communications center on the always-vital rail line. Housing would have to be found for the new residents as well as quarters for the small detachment remaining behind.

Meanwhile, Charlie sat at his desk and started drafting orders for his men. The daily lunch meeting of officers would be interesting, to say the least, as he would be asking one company commanders to volunteer to stay behind.

Charlie walked into the Officers’ Mess tent and took his place at the head of the table. As usual, the officers were chatting amongst themselves as troopers served lunch under Jamison’s watchful eye. When Charlie joined them for lunch, he usually sat, was served and ate with them, then carried on whatever discussion he wanted to have after the meal was over. Today was different. He stood, silent, at his place at the long table until he had the attention of every man there.

"Gentlemen, we have received orders. We are to be ready to march within one week."

A rumble of sound went around the table, some grumbling, and some eager to be back in the field. Young Avery of Company I spoke up first. "General, do you know where we are bound?"

"No, not yet. I do know we will be heading south, but beyond that, no. General Sheridan always keeps his plans close to his vest. So we go where we are told, when we are told –– as usual." Charlie stopped for a minute. "However, one company is not going to be joining us. We have been ordered to leave a detachment here in Culpeper to guard the railhead from marauders and maintain communications. It is inevitable there will be a number of deserters –– we are already starting to see it happen –– and we will need guards here to maintain civil order as they start to return to their homes, or what is left of them. They will be hungry, probably angry and desperate. It will not be easy service."

Dewees of Company C, eager to prove his company’s loyalty after the problems with Montgomery, spoke up first. "But, Sir, if one company is left behind, they will not be there to participate in the glorious finale."

Charlie raised his eyebrow at Dewees. "Captain, I hardly think the finale, as you call it, will be glorious. General Grant has held General Lee’s forces pinned in Richmond and Petersburg for over two months. We know the siege has been at least partially effective, as we continue to cut their supply lines. Going against men who are half starved, short on clothing, supplies, food, and ammunition is hardly glorious. It is simply the inevitable end to this miserable war. Be at ease, Captain Dewees. Your company won the right to stand as vanguard at the gymkhana; I will not reverse that status now. But put out of your mind that the coming battles will be glorious. They will be anything but."

"Gentlemen, it is my thought we will want to cull a company from among all of your men –– choosing those men who are technically fit for light duty, but whose injuries have not completely healed or have left them with some limitations. In addition, I would like to cull out those men whose terms of service have expired, muster them out if they wish and provide them with the means to either return home or settle here in the Culpeper area." A buzz went around the room. A number of the men from the original Pennsylvania troops were still feeling the effects of their injuries. But not one of them was ready to voluntarily excuse themselves from these last days of the war.

"I will need a volunteer to remain behind and command our communications detachment." Charlie waited a moment. No one jumped up to volunteer. "Then discuss it amongst yourselves. If no one volunteers, we will draw straws tomorrow at lunch." He turned to Captain Dewees. "You, sir, because of the special circumstances with Company C, will be excluded from the draw, if you wish." The other company commanders nodded their heads in agreement.

"Until then, I expect each of you to initiate immediate mobilization efforts. Tear down any temporary structures, clean up any areas, fill the latrines, et cetera. Colonel Polk and I will develop any special orders as we progress. For now, start your men getting their own equipment in order."

Charlie then sat down and ate, between fielding a wide variety of questions as the conversation turned on the massive logistics of remobilizing the regiment.

After lunch, Charlie and Polk retired to his office to write the detailed mobilization orders. All afternoon, a constant stream of officers and key men filed in and out of the office, as plans for supplies, foodstuffs, horse management and equipment transportation were discussed and finalized.

Elizabeth, accompanied by Samuelson and Whitman, was one of the last staff members to be consulted. Charlie was concerned they would end up trying to fight a running series of skirmishes, rather than fixed battles. Designing a way to treat injured men when the regiment was on the move was a major challenge. They worked through dinner, which was brought in on trays, to find a way that, while not exactly satisfactory, was at least viable.

Charlie dragged himself to bed that night exhausted. The lamps were dimmed, no candles were lit and the house was silent. It seemed everyone else had finally fallen into bed and sleep called him like a siren.

He quietly entered Rebecca’s private sitting room and stripped his clothes, hoping to grab his nightshirt and slip quietly into bed and her sleeping warmth.

He found Rebecca waiting for him in bed, holding his pillow to her chest, crying quietly.

"Darling, what is it? Why did you wait up for me? It is so late, darling, and you need your sleep."

"I cannot sleep. I am too worried about your leaving and what will happen then."

"Darling, please, do not do this to yourself. I am leaving men here to take care of the place and to help Mayor Frazier keep order in town in case deserters start coming through. I will take the utmost care of myself. As things are going, I will be home before you know it, a month or two at the most, if General Grant’s siege works as expected. The war cannot last much longer." Charlie took her in his arms and gently soothed her back and shoulders as she spoke.