ALL THAT'S LEFT OF ME
By Jo Anzalone
Chapter 6:
"Hey, Jimmie!" Jonathon called, splashing through puddles as he ran, rain misting on his face.
"Wait up!"
The soldier ahead of him stopped at the sound of Jonathon's voice, pushing the brim of his
hat back from his face as he turned, grinning broadly.
Jonathon's mouth dropped open and he almost skidded as he stopped suddenly in the mud.
"Seth! I didn't...Jimmie...does Jimmie know?"
"Not yet, Johnnie. Kinda thought I'd surprise my little brother and just show up."
"But...when...where?"
"Enlisted at Centerville on the 11th. Fresh off the farm."
Jonathon ran up to Seth and threw his arms around him. "It's good to see you, really great!
Jimmie's gonna be so surprised." Then Jonathon stepped back, looking in Seth's face. "But
what about the farm? Who's...?"
"Got that taken care of. Daddy hired on a couple of men needin' work and me, well, I just
couldn't handle it no more, you know, knowin' my baby brother was up here fightin' and I
was still home. Didn't seem right."
Seth was 25, single like most of the young men. He had the same short, stocky build Jimmie
had, the same large, dark brown eyes. With his hat pushed back, the rain was starting to
run down his face and he wiped at it with a palm.
"Always rain this much up here?" he asked.
"Seems like," Jonathon smiled. "Been at it for a while and looks like it ain't got intentions
of ever stoppin'."
"Where's Jimmie?"
"I thought you were him. Was just headin' back to the tent. You on duty or can you come
along with me? I need to be there to see Jimmie's face."
"I got time. Not much doin' in camp with all this wet stuff fallin'. Lead on."
Jonathon put his arm around Seth's shoulders and together they made their muddy way
through the rows of pitched tents.
"Let me go in first," Jonathon whispered as they stopped just outside. Pushing back the flap,
he stooped and went in. Jimmie was sitting on a box, whittling a bullet into the shape of a fish.
In the last few days he'd made an odd assortment of items.
Jonathon took off his hat, shaking the water from it. "You know, Jimmie, someday somebody's
gonna find one of those things you're carvin' and wonder why in tarnation they found a bullet
that looked like a fish."
"Passes the time, Johnnie. Helps keep me from gettin' too homesick."
"I know what you mean, Jimmie, I miss my family somethin' terrible. I find myself wonderin'
what Billy's doin', for instance, 'n wishin' there was some way for me to see him. Bet you miss
ol' Seth like that, don't you?"
A far-away expression settled on Jimmie's pleasant face. "Sometimes, you know, I can close
my eyes an' almost touch him. He always watched out for me, taught me things. I'm glad,
though, he's safe. Too damn much si...."
His word was cut off by a face poked suddenly through the tent flap, bearing an ear to ear
grin. "You talkin' 'bout me, JimmieBoy?"
Jimmie almost cut his thumb with his carving knife as Seth came all the way into the tent.
Seth and Jonathon both laughed aloud at Jimmie's utterly dumbfounded expression, then
Seth took a couple of steps forward and squatted in front of where his brother sat. "I ain't
no ghost, Jimmie. It's really me."
Jimmie's mouth closed with an audible snap of his teeth. "Seth? ...Seth?"
Seth nodded his head, raindrops splashing off onto Jimmie. Slowly Jimmie set the knife
and the bullet on the ground, not taking his eyes off his brother. Then with a loud whoop
he lurched forward, practically tackling him so that Seth fell onto his back, Jimmie atop
him. For a moment Jimmie sat astride Seth's legs, just staring at him.
"I'm gettin' wet," Seth laughed, his back on the sodden ground under the tent.
"You was already wet," Jimmie chuckled, shaking his head in amazement, then noticing
Seth was in uniform. "You joined up? I didn't think...."
"It was all right. Daddy got hired help. So I figgered I'd come up here and...and...let you set
on me."
"When?"
"Right now, Jimmie. You'll be settin' on me in present time."
"Not that! When'd you join up?"
"'Bout three days ago, I reckon. Down to Centerville."
Jimmie finally got off his brother and extended a hand to help him to his feet. "You come all
the way from Louisville by yourself?"
"Hardly by myself. Train was damn full of soldiers."
"Why? Why'd you go an' do this?"
"Like I said, little brother. I figgered you needed you somebody to set on."
Jimmie turned to look at Jonathon. "You knew he was here?"
"Just a minute ago is all, Jimmie. I thought he was you when I saw him from the back."
"You...you're in our regiment?"
"I ain't only in your regiment, JimmieBoy, I'm in your company."
"The Guards? You're actually in the Guards?"
"Now where else would I be but the best, eh?"
Jimmie sat heavily back down on the crate, looking up at Seth, wiped a hand across his mouth,
then leapt up and enveloped his brother in a huge hug, blinking back tears.
It rained all day the next two days, giving the brothers and Jonathon time to catch up on all
the news they had to share. Seth had brought extra clothes with him for Jimmie, and Jonathon's
family had sent a bundle for him, too, as well as several letters.
Eagerly Jonathon unfolded the letters, reading them over and over and then over again. One
contained a picture Sarah had drawn for him of herself holding her doll under a huge sun.
Jonathon rested a fingertip in the middle of the circle of the sun, then moved it slowly around
its edge, yearning to hold his little sister in his lap again and listen to her laugh as he made
up stories. One of the letters was from Billy and disturbed him profoundly.
Dear Johnnie,
I have not found myself very happy of heart since your departure. I miss you more than I can
say and every day I am more and more determined that not too much time will pass before I
myself will enter the service of my country. I will be 17 soon and I do not think I will be able
to remain on the farm much after that. Daddy does not want me to join up because he says it
would be hard to have two sons to worry over in this war, but some of my friends say they are
joining and then there is no way I cannot go as well. I hope you will understand as I know you
do not like the idea but I have to do what I feel is right for me and for the country you are
already off fighting for. I thought I should let you know what I am thinking.
With great fondness and with hopes you are in good health,
Your brother William
"What's the matter, Johnnie?" Jimmie asked, having observed the deep crease between his
friend's brows.
"It's Billy," Jonathan sighed. "I expect he'll enlist before much longer."
"But he's only sixteen, isn't he?"
"He'll be seventeen soon. Says he has friends who're joinin' up. He wants to fight, too."
"He doesn't know what it's like." Jimmie shook his head.
"Did we?" Jonathon continued. "I didn't know there was gonna be all this sickness killin'
our regiment off. I thought we'd be fightin' Yanks, not dyin' from one fever or another."
"I hear the hammerin' on the coffins, for sure, more'n I hear musketry. They's poundin' 'em
together all day it seems like."
"There's cannonading down to Fairfax Court House way, but it ain't louder'n the coffin
nails much," Jonathon agreed.
Sunday the 18th it misted rain all day and on Monday the showers were heavier. They
stood and watched as three more wagonloads of sick were sent up to the hospital in Leesburg.
On Tuesday word came up from Centerville that William Cook, a farmer from Noxapater
they'd gotten to know, died. He was 24 and had spoken with them at some length on the
train about his wife, Emma, back home.
Seth knew many of the Guards as most of them lived in or around Louisville. He slid into the
company rather easily due to that and trained eagerly to catch up with what they knew.
Both Jimmie and Jonathon worked with him when they weren't on duty to teach him the ins
and outs of army life. When they could, they went hunting in the woods for rabbit or squirrel
and at mess several soldiers would join them, contributing whatever they had. They fried
the meat and added water, making something that passed as the base for a stew. Then fried
cornbread was added and the whole thing rendered down over the campfire until it thickened
up a bit. Some of the men called it cush while to others it was slosh.
The rain stopped for Wednesday the 21, giving them a clear and pleasant day for a change
for their battalion drill. At the dress parade later, though, only thirteen men from their
company were able to be on their feet to participate. The rain came back Wednesday night
and on Thursday, only eight men of all the Winston Guards who had marched out of Louisville, answered for duty. It rained Thursday night but Friday morning it cleared, the clouds rolling away, accompanied by the sound of heavy cannonading from the direction of Falls Church.
Two men died in the morning.
"What're we doin' anyway?" Seth asked.
"I think we're waitin' for the Yanks camped across the Potomac yonder to decide they
want to come on over to this side for a visit."
"If they don't hurry theirselves up, Johnnie, and decide to leave Maryland, there ain't gonna
be none of us left to say them nay."
"Maybe that's what their plan is," Jimmie spoke up. "Maybe they hear our coffins bein'
built same as we do."
Saturday the 24th of August was a better day. Not only did it not rain, but the citizens of
the little town of Middleburg, south and a bit west of Leesburg, sent the army camp a
supply of food and clothing. Most of it went into the hospital, but there was some for
the encamped soldiers, too. The people of northern Virginia were well aware that these
men were all that stood between their homes and the Union army. Also aware of how many
of them were dying, they wanted to express their gratitude in the ways they could. There
were even delicacies among the provisions and Jonathon closed his eyes in bliss, letting a
bite of apple pie sit for a long time on his tongue.
"You gonna swallow that, you think?" Seth chuckled.
"I may not. It's the most wonderful thing and even though my belly's cryin' for it, my mouth
don't want to let it go." He'd kept his eyes closed as he spoke because they were smarting
with sudden, unexpected tears. This was the closest thing he'd tasted since mid-May to his
mother's cooking and homesickness swelled through him, tightening his throat so for a long
moment after he wouldn't have been able to swallow the pie even if he'd tried. He thought,
too, of that last evening on the farm with the sparkles in the sunbeam and how peaceful and
dear and familiar the fields were. Starting to gag on the large bite of pie, he spat it out into
an empty tin cup, startling his two friends.
"You all right, Johnnie?" Jimmie asked quickly as Jonathon stood up and walked a short
distance away, his back to them.
After a few deep breaths he turned back, managing a smile. "Think I took too big a bite's all."
It didn't rain the whole weekend, which lifted spirits, but on Monday there was meningitis
in the camp, along with the other diseases, typhoid and dysentery chief among them. One man had died from a combination of typhoid and measles.
Barksdale was still under arrest on the 27th. Of the 40 officers in his regiment, 32 had
forwarded their resignations to the War Department. When they were not approved, they
sent them again, but with the same results. Even the privates circulated a petition that he
vacate his position. His regiment had totally lost respect for him during the march when
he drunkenly denounced his men as thieves and liars and said his officers would only wink
at such behavior. Finally he'd become so drowsy that he'd dismounted, rested his head on
a rock near the road and gone to sleep. That, along with the sickness and death, the over-
abundance of rain, and the tension of not knowing when the Federal army would cross
the river, took its toll on the men.
"Rainin' for a change," Jimmie remarked on the morning of the 28th as he pushed back the
tent flap, giving a quick look up at the grey sky.
"Wonder what happened to that drought Virginia was havin' when we fought at Manassas?"
Jonathon added with a small, wry smile.
"Maybe it was that ark you fellers brought up here with you on that train," Seth chuckled.
"Musta been some signal for the heavens to let down the waters."
"Too bad only squirrels and rabbits made it aboard," Jonathon nodded. "Could use me some
more beef cattle or a hog or two."
Reports came in that day of pickets skirmishing with a large force near Falls Church and
the brigades of both Longstreet and Cox left in somewhat of a hurry in that direction.
At evening mess a soldier Jonathon knew paused to say, "You hear that John Pool died down
to Charlottesville hospital, Johnnie?"
He hadn't.
"Who was Pool?" Seth asked.
"Got shot in the thigh at Manassas," Jonathon replied grimly. "Took him down to Charlottesville to amputate his leg. Looks like he didn't make it."
A low whistle came out through Seth's teeth. "That's a right big thing to happen to a man,
losin' a leg like that. Change everythin' for him. Guess infection or somethin' took this Pool
before he had to deal with that kinda life." He shook his head slowly, horrified at the thought
of the whole thing.
The clouds remained, accompanied by misting rain the next two days, but Saturday the 31st,
the last day of the soggy month of August 1861, dawned clear and pleasant. There was
heavy cannonading coming from the direction of Pohick Church, an Episcopalian one where
George Washington had belonged for many years, but their regiment was sent about seven
miles south of Leesburg to Balls Mills to camp and see if they could recover a bit of their
health. There being barely enough men able to stand guard duty, Jonathan and the Ellis
brothers found themselves doing a lot of that.
With the coming of September, both Jonathon and Seth were detailed as wagoners, driving
mostly between camp and Leesburg. Jonathon liked driving a team again but so many of
the loads he carried were vastly different from what he was used to on his farm. Often they
were sick men for him to take to the hospital in Leesburg and on his return trip he'd be
hauling planks to make coffins from. He liked it better when it was supplies living men
needed, flour, rice, vinegar, candles, soap, salt, molasses, things such as that.
The first three days of September there was no rain, which Jonathon found made his
round trips much more pleasant. On the 4th, though, his morning trip was in the rain, but
that cleared by evening and he could hear cannonading in the direction of Alexandria.
When he stooped wearily into his tent the evening of the Thursday, the 5th after being out
all day in a very chilly rain, he was drawn up short by Jimmie and Seth standing inside,
waiting for him. Jimmie held a big chunk of cornbread on a tin plate, a large candle stuck
into its center, its base surrounded by a circle of bacon.
"Happy Birthday!" both men said loudly in unison.
Jonathon stood there silently a while, just looking at the candle's flickering light reflecting
on the two so similar, smiling faces of his friends. Then he had to blink rapidly several times.
The day had been very long, dreary and completely cold and wet. It hadn't seemed like a
birthday at all, certainly not in any way like the ones his mother arranged for him back at
home with one of her cakes and special brown sugar icing. Birthdays, he figured, didn't
really hold much importance during time of war and by the afternoon he'd let it go and
even forgotten about it himself. Now here he was, standing under canvas, rain beating down
above his head, and he was soaked to the skin, chilled to the bone, and though he still
blinked away the sudden wetness in his eyes, he managed a big smile and felt that lifting of
heart that the good will of dear, familiar friends can bring. He felt bonded to these men in
every way, not just that the home they'd left behind was so near to his own and they shared
the same love of place and people, but that now they shared the experience of being where
they were, doing what they were doing.
"I...I can't...." He couldn't form the words of what they meant to him, of the significance of
what they were doing in this moment. "Thank...thank you. I...."
"Couldn't let the grand event of you turnin' 23 to go by without, well, you know. Sorry 'bout
the cornbread but it was all we could come up with this evenin'," Jimmie said, holding the
plate out toward the dripping Jonathon.
Friday's morning rain gave way to a clear evening. Barksdale was restored to his office and
resumed command of the 13th. The Colonel, used to the finer arts of cunning and flattery, knew
he had to avoid giving his regiment any further offense, needed to work himself back into the
good graces of the soldiers under him. There was a battalion drill that evening, made more
pleasant by the lack of precipitation, and he took that opportunity to stand in front of his men
and publicly apologize for his behavior and acknowledge openly his error. Asking them to
forgive him, he promised he would never again give them any cause to find complaint with him.
"You believe the man?" Seth asked later.
"I want to," Jonathon said gravely. "He's goin' to be leadin' us into battle. Somethin' in me
needs to think the man's not all bad."
"He ain't all bad," Jimmie agreed. "Man just drinks more'n he can handle. He's a right
foxy one, though. You remember, Johnnie, back in Union City when he had that there disagreement with one of the sutlers an' when the man was gone one day, he had his shack
tore down? Said somethin' like it were an accident or some such? Man knows what he's doing, leastwise when he ain't drunk he knows."
"I was thinkin' on that while I was listenin' to him, wonderin' if the man meant what he was
sayin'. I hope to God he did. Our lives might well depend on that some day."
ON TO CHAPTER 7
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