In these past few weeks and days, the US Constitution has sustained another, radical-domestic attack, even with provoking forms of violence, false accusations, and undisciplined verbal abuse. We have seen the left's, "Modus Operandi" (method of operations) on full display—the ends justify the means—including mob rule. Never underestimate the diabolical nature of revenge.
At the end of this chapter's second scene, the gravity of losing one's country hits seasoned soldiers hard. John Wilkes Booth never fought in the Confederate Army, but he chose revenge and destroyed Lincoln's plan for a soft reconstruction of the Southern States. Imagine how you'd feel if the progressives gained control this November and completed their transformation of the USA from a Constitutional Republic to a Democrat/Socialist, 100% government controlled society where all men maybe created equal but some are more equal than others. I pray they never do, but if they do I pray I won't choose revenge.
For new readers, I linked Chapter 1.
At the end of this chapter's second scene, the gravity of losing one's country hits seasoned soldiers hard. John Wilkes Booth never fought in the Confederate Army, but he chose revenge and destroyed Lincoln's plan for a soft reconstruction of the Southern States. Imagine how you'd feel if the progressives gained control this November and completed their transformation of the USA from a Constitutional Republic to a Democrat/Socialist, 100% government controlled society where all men maybe created equal but some are more equal than others. I pray they never do, but if they do I pray I won't choose revenge.
For new readers, I linked Chapter 1.
Destination Hope – Book 5 – Reconciliation
A Novel By:
Charles J. Patricoff
Copyright © 2014 by Charles J. Patricoff. All rights reserved.
Chapter 6
Finally
Lieutenant John Ellis ordered, “Forward.” He waited for the echo command by his First Sergeant, then, he shouted, “March.” In battle-line formation, the boys in blue stepped off and headed up a hill that would lead them to Appomattox Court House, Virginia. The remnant of General Robert E. Lee’s starving force massed on the other side. This Federal division would be the first to deliver a crushing blow and settle the issue.
As the division neared the top of the hill, Brigadier General Ord appeared, shouting as he rode, “Don’t expose your lines on the crest. Our scouts report the Rebels have massed their guns to give it a raking fire the moment you set foot up there.”
Regardless, the gallant General Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, a decorated hero of many conflicts, pushed his troops to the top. Once there, he ordered a halt. Lieutenant John Ellis and his older brother, Private Paul Ellis, stood in full view of the enemy, in dressed lines with the other brigades, daring the remnant Rebels to open fire.
From this vantage point, the Federal force observed a panoramic view of the town they sought to reach before the Confederate soldiers could pass through it. If successful, they could cut off Lee’s escape to North Carolina. This section of Virginia proved hilly, which included broken ground by streams and creeks. From their observation point, Appomattox appeared as a vast amphitheater, stretching a mile from hill crest to crest.
Before them, the defiant but ragged, dusty, and exhausted Confederate infantry rested on the ground. Columns of artillery parked in neat rows. Cavalry meandered in various places throughout the town and surrounding forests. In the face of Federal troops, the Rebels did not appear to prepare for offense or defense. However, the might of Federal cavalry, artillery, and infantry prepared for the pending assault.
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| General Chamberlain |
One Confederate cannon barked. The shot sailed overhead without exploding or causing damage. Little did the attacking Federal troops know, it would be their adversary’s last.
The Federals crossed a small marsh, then splashed through a bright, swift stream and pressed for the town. John and Paul’s company reached a narrow street on the outskirts of Appomattox. They engaged the Rebels.
The starving enemy offered little resistance. Many dropped their muskets. Some failed to remove their weapons from stacked order or show any indication they might pick them up. Others raised their hands over their heads. However, not one begged for mercy.
Another Rebel regiment huddled about a mile further into town, and like the soldiers they had just captured, this band appeared to do nothing.
Lieutenant John Ellis approached General Chamberlain. “Sir, may I have permission to go forward and address those men?”
General Chamberlain asked, “What are your intentions, Lieutenant?”
“Those fellas don’t seem to have much fight in them, sir. I think we should talk to them and give them a chance to surrender.”
General Chamberlain studied the situation through his field glasses. “You might just have a good idea there, Lieutenant.” Chamberlain shifted in his saddle and his attention to John. “You look familiar to me, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir. We met two years ago, sir, during the winter march to flank the Rebels at Fredericksburg. We helped free a horse from the mud.”
“Thank you, I remember now. Your name is John Ellis from Illinois, correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That was good work, Lieutenant. You seem to be a man with good ideas and the ability to carry them out. I’d hate to lose you, if those people cause you harm.”
“Sir, no one can know for certain, but I think they want to quit. Don’t you think we should find out before we kill anymore of them without further cause.”
General Chamberlain took another good look through his binoculars. Without dropping them he said, “Be careful, Lieutenant.”
John snapped a crisp salute and shouted with unbridled enthusiasm. “Yes, sir.”
Seconds later, John jogged across the mile separating the armies. When he reached the next street, he walked straight into the middle of a Rebel brigade. “Men, I’m here on behalf of General Chamberlain.”
“You got any food, Yank?”
John scanned the starving Rebels. Their overall condition shocked him. All of a sudden, his heart filled with compassion for these miserable souls. “I can get you some, but you need to give me something to prove to us, you know, that you won’t keep fighting after we feed you.”
A skeleton-thin Confederate Major approached John and extended his hand in greeting. After the exchange, the major took a formal step back, saluted the junior officer, and unhooked his sword’s sheath. He held it in front of his chest and examined it for a brief moment. Then, with both hands palms up, he offered it to John. A captain and two Lieutenants repeated the gesture.
John grasped the sabers, returned their salute, and said, “You men stay put, and I’ll see what we can do to get you some food straight away.”
John raced. He stumbled and struggled to keep his feet, hold on to his prize, and reach General Chamberlain without killing himself. Gasping, he managed to say, “General, sir. They’re done. They want…they need food.”
“Good work, Lieutenant.” He smiled at John and shouted, “Orderly.” Before General Chamberlain could issue another command, other Federal soldiers and officers pointed and yelled, “Look.”
The figure of a Confederate horseman rode forward from the Rebel lines. Soon, another appeared from the left flank. Then a third appeared. It looked like he carried a white flag. That simple piece of material bore a mighty message.
As the Confederates drew near to the Federal lines, the Union troops directed them toward General Chamberlain. Within a dozen paces, the apparent staff officer dismounted, offered a gracious salute and announced in a Virginia accent, “Sir, I am from General Gordon.”
General Chamberlain leaned forward in his saddle. “Commander of the Second Corps?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The same John Gordon from Georgia who sustained six wounds at Antietam Creek?”
“The same, sir, yes, sir; at Sharpsburg, Maryland.”
“Very well, what do you have to report, Captain?”
“General Gordon said General Lee desires a cessation of hostilities until he—that is, General Lee—can hear from General Grant as to the proposed surrender.”
John said to his older brother, Paul, "Thank God. It's over."
John said to his older brother, Paul, "Thank God. It's over."
Ordered to remain in their encampment, General Fitz Lee’s cavalry troopers mingled with General John B. Gordon’s Second Corps infantry. Rumors ran from one end of the bivouac to the other, regardless of rank. A perceptible dread hung over every soldier. They were too tired, hungry, and trapped to fight any longer—but they would.
General Robert E. Lee had been gone most of the afternoon. It neared half-past four. The broken men hoped they would receive the promised food from the Federal forces blocking their escape to North Carolina. Waiting, the horsemen meandered in a thick, budding apple-tree orchard, wondering if they would be allowed to keep their much worse, broken-down horses.
Colonel Michael LeConte found General Robert E. Lee’s nephew, General Fitz Lee, commander of the army’s cavalry. LeConte spent most of the morning functioning as a courier between the commander of the Army and the commander of the Second Corps. The soldiers and troopers in the field did not need to see the official reports. They could see that this Palm Sunday would be their last together. As a result, the conversations fell far below the military bar of formality. Colonel LeConte said, “The men know our attempt to break out of town failed, sir.”
General Fitz Lee said, “I believe we are outnumbered ten-to-one, by those people in front of us, Colonel.”
“Yes, sir, and I understand the ratio is worse regarding the Yankees behind us. I hate to say it, sir, but the Yankees have us surrounded.”
General Fitz Lee began to walk through the trees, heading for the one where he had hitched his horse. Colonel LeConte followed. General Fitz Lee clasped his hands behind his back as his uncle had at times of contemplative wanderings. His head directed ground-ward, and then rose skyward. He took a deep breath and released a remorseful sigh. “Then, it is done.”
“Sir?”
General Fitz Lee came to a halt, came about, and addressed his friend. “How’s your family, Colonel?”
“May I speak freely, sir?”
“Yes, Colonel.”
“The last time I saw them was at Christmas. They were starving, then. I hope they have something to eat now that the Yankees control Petersburg. What about yours?”
“I hear my aunt is dying.”
“General Lee’s wife?”
General Fitz Lee nodded. He hiked his trousers. “I believe it won’t affect his decision regarding the army, but I’m sure it weighs heavy on his heart and mind. The facts speak for themselves, Colonel. Our men are collapsing from hunger and exhaustion. We’re down to twenty-four hundred troopers with effective horses.” He reached over to his horse and patted the animal’s muscular neck. “What does General Gordon report?”
“He says he’s down to two thousand skeletons with clothes and weapons.” LeConte let his horse chew on fresh, greening grass. “General Gordon told me to tell General Lee that he had fought his corps to a frazzle and that he feared he could do nothing more to get across the river unless he received heavy support from Longstreet. I delivered the message.”
General Fitz Lee inquired regarding his uncle’s response. “What did General Lee say?”
Colonel LeConte hung onto an apple tree branch. “Nothing at first. I suppose he realized that the Yankees had cut off further escape. His face seemed to age as he pondered our options.” Colonel LeConte’s horse nuzzled him as if thanking him for the time to eat. “General Lee put down the report from General Longstreet, pushed himself up to his feet and said, ‘Then, there is nothing left for me to do but go and see General Grant.’ He stared at me and added, ‘I would rather die a thousand deaths.’ He called for his horse and rode out in the direction of General Longstreet’s corps.”
First Sergeant Bill Nelson approached the officers. Even though most military decorum had all but disappeared, this old soldier maintained his bearing, came to a perfect attention, saluted and made his request. “General Lee, sir; Colonel LeConte, sir, may I speak freely, sir?”
General Fitz Lee nodded and Colonel LeConte answered. “Of course, Sergeant. What’s on your mind?”
“Sir, the boys wanted me to speak for them, sir. They have a question about our horses, sir. Most of these mounts ain’t worth much. There isn’t a whole one in the regiment. But sir, they belong to us. We brought them from our homes and farms.” Sergeant Nelson struggled to get to the point.
His colonel, Michael LeConte came to his aid. “No one knows these animals better than you, Sergeant.”
“Yes, sir. The thing is, do you think those Blue bellies,” he pointed with his chin across the river, “will let us keep our property?”
General Fitz Lee said, “I’m confident General Lee is aware of this issue, Sergeant.”
Young but seasoned Corporal Joey Murdock shouted from his observation post sitting on top of a nearby fence. “I see him. It’s General Lee. He’s riding this-a-way.”
LeConte said, “At least he kept his horse. Whatever they decided, we have to live with it.”
General Fitz Lee nodded and walked toward his uncle.
As General Robert E. Lee came within a few yards of the orchard, his men rushed forward to greet him. A soldier called, “General, are we surrendered?”
The men surrounded Lee’s old gray horse, Traveller, causing the procession to halt. General Lee sat at attention, in the perfect form of a southern aristocrat. The men had no idea he wanted to make a good impression on General Grant. Lee wore an impeccable, spotless, new gray uniform. His whites were clean and fresh as snow. His polished boots reflected the afternoon sunshine. He wore a yellow-gold waistband garnished with a deep red silken sash. He had offered General Grant his ornate scabbard, but it remained buckled to his belt.
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| General Robert E. Lee |
The men released their hold on Traveller and let horse and rider slip away. As the gravity and finality of the moment took hold, grief, like the loss of a dear loved one, penetrated their hearts and crashed into the debts of their souls. Gutted, many wept.
The next day, rain fell, but, provisions began to flow from the Yankee lines. Soldiers from both sides started to mingle without hostilities, just an occasional heated word. The rain continued throughout the day, turning the roads through and surrounding Appomattox Court House, Virginia into muddy streams.
General Robert E. Lee had to issue two final official orders. One took a few minutes to reach a decision and write. He needed to appoint a Confederate officer to conduct the surrender of arms. He selected General John B. Gordon.
The second written order would be much more difficult. He prepared it for general distribution to his subordinates conveying the truth of the surrender and its terms. It read:
Headquarters, Army of Northern Virginia
April 10, 1865
General Orders
No. 9
After four years of arduous service marked by unsurpassed courage and fortitude, the Army of Northern Virginia has been compelled to yield to overwhelming numbers and resources.
I need not tell the brave survivors of so many hard-fought battles, who have remained steadfast to the last, that I have consented to this result from no distrust of them. But feeling that valor and devotion could accomplish nothing that could compensate for the loss that must have attended the continuance of the contest, I determined to avoid the useless sacrifice of those whose past services have endeared them to their countrymen.
By the terms of the agreement, officers and men can return to their homes and remain until exchanged. You will take with you the satisfaction that proceeds from the consciousness of duty faithfully performed, and I earnestly pray that a merciful God will extend to you His blessing and protection.
With an unceasing admiration of your constancy and devotion to your Country, and a grateful remembrance of your kind and generous consideration for myself, I bid you all an affectionate farewell.
R. E. Lee
General
The agreement, which General Grant wrote and he and General Lee signed, had far-reaching results. Many northern, and some pro-union southern, people wanted to see leading Confederates executed for treason against the United States. What Grant accomplished made it impossible to hang General Lee. If the army could not condemn Lee, neither could they take the life of a lesser Confederate. Lee’s order spared the country the horror of continued guerrilla warfare, which several of his younger officers promoted. Between them, these rival soldiers served their country well and set the stage for President Lincoln’s intended soft reconstruction.
Union General Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain formed his lines by sunrise. The predawn revealed thick gray clouds, depressing fog, and puddles of standing water on the saturated ground and roads. The long line of blue troops, some eighty-thousand strong, formed three ranks deep along the south and east side of the main Lynchburg Road leading into Appomattox Court House from the Appomattox River northeast of the town—the Yankee right—to the hamlet’s east edge—the Yankee left.
General Chamberlain rode his horse to a position at the hill-crest between the river and the town. From that vantage point, he could watch the surrendering forces coming out of the apple orchard a quarter-mile north of the river. Lieutenant John Ellis stood at attention at order arms along with thousands of his blue-clad fellows from the Fifth Corps. John stood so close to General Chamberlain’s chocolate-brown horse, Charlemagne, he could have touched its left rear flank with his right hand, which of course he would not do.
Private Paul Ellis stood several packed shoulders to John’s left. He wanted to say to John that they had made it, but knew their orders were clear—keep silent. However, he could see.
Paul watched Confederate soldiers camped across the river, take down their little shelter tents and fold them for the last time, using great care. Then, they began to form in a column of march—four men abreast. With shot and torn battle flags flapping in the gentle spring breeze, they came down the hill, across the bridge, and up the slope.
Lieutenant General John B. Gordon rode his black horse at the head of the column. Even from Paul’s angle, he could see General Gordon’s downcast face. The once fiery leader, who rose through the ranks to take command of the famous Stonewall Jackson’s Second Corps, now appeared to have a crushed spirit.
General Chamberlain had given instructions for conducting the surrender of arms, artillery, and all Confederate government property. As General Gordon neared, General Chamberlain issued one hand-signal command. A Union bugler sounded. In an instant, a command echoed in rolling wave succession throughout the entire blue line, from the river to the town, regiment by regiment. “Carry, arms.”
Muskets shifted from the shouldered, “Order arms,” position to the salutation, “Carry arms,” point. General Gordon’s eyes rose, and he stared at General Chamberlain. Understanding the salute offered by the former combatants, General Gordon wheeled his horse, faced General Chamberlain, and in a profound exchange, dropped the point of his sword to his boot toe.
General Chamberlain nodded.
General Gordon reined his horse to his left, addressed his troops and the Confederates repeated the, “Carry arms,” salute as they took up positions on the opposite side of the road. Honor answered honor. Then an awed stillness took hold, as if both sides witnessed the passing of the dead.
Twelve feet away, the Confederates dressed their lines; every soldier took their proper positions by rank. Paul looked into the faces of men who stood in proud humiliation. These men faced toil, suffering, death, disaster, hopelessness and the abandonment of their government. Now they appeared thin, worn, and famished, but erect.
General Gordon ordered, “Stack arms.”
The command echoed through the Confederate Army of Northern Virginia’s ranks, which mirrored the positions taken by the Union Army of the Potomac. The surrendering soldiers fixed bayonets, stacked their arms as if they were creating a tent frame, removed their cartridge boxes and either hung them on the muskets or laid them on the ground. They performed their last military act with profound care and feeling. They folded or rolled their battle-worn, torn, and blood stained colors. Burning tears flowed and in agonizing grief, many dropped to their knees in the merciless mud, threw their hands over their faces, and wept.
This act repeated throughout the day, with regiment after regiment of soldiers laying down their arms until the last minutes near dusk. General Chamberlain oversaw the parole of over twenty-seven thousand men.
Reverend Moody closed his eyes as if he considered the depth of what he’d read in Paul Ellis’s letter. The only sound he heard was the ticking of the parlor clock and the sniffling of his moved wife, Emma. When, he opened his eyes, Eleanor stared at him waiting for him to finish the letter. Emma dabbed her eyes with a kerchief. He cleared his throat and pressed for the finish line.
“Paul writes they left in groups, dispersing by routes as varied as their destinations. He says that as General Lee departed, a ragged Rebel private yelled to him, ‘Good-bye General; God bless you.’ From the light of a bonfire consuming Rebel arms, they watched General Robert E. Lee, and two other men, ride northeast away from Appomattox Court House, on the road, which would lead them to Richmond….”
Over the next few days, much transpired. For the most part, John and I, along with the rest of our regiment distributed food to our former antagonists. Shoes were their second priority. While we stood near the cattle corral, a one legged, former Confederate officer crutched through the mud, asking and receiving directions as he made progress. Once he reached earshot of the men attending to the herd, he shouted over the mooing, “I’m looking for the Ellis brothers.”
We glanced at each other and I said, “You’re the officer.”
John shrugged. “Oh, all right.” He took his foot off the bottom fence rail and pivoted toward the new arrival. He said, “I’m John Ellis, Major. This here is my brother, Paul. What can we do for you, sir?”
The disabled man said, “My Lord, thank you for helping me find them.”
Again, we glanced at each other. The major said, “I’m Marvin Jenkins from Tennessee. I was told I’d find you fellas over here. I’ve been looking for you over the past two days.”
John asked, “I’m sorry, sir but are we supposed to know you?”
“Please forgive me, gentlemen. I’m a bit excited that the Lord let me find you. Please permit me to explain.”
I chose to keep quiet, but I poked John with my elbow to promote his response.
“Go ahead.” John rubbed his arm and glared at me.
“You see, men, I am Major Nathaniel Graham’s best friend and I believe he plans to marry your sister….”
The parlor clock struck midnight. The reading of the letter took the full evening. Emma had long ago put little Emma to bed, and the three friends discussed the exciting events, which led to the formal surrender of arms and disbanding of the Army of Northern Virginia.
Mrs. Emma Moody composed herself, then asked, “What an incredible story Paul told.” Yawning, she said to Eleanor, “You must be so excited to learn that Nathaniel’s friend, Marvin, is still alive.”
Patting her mouth, Eleanor spoke through her tiredness. “Excuse me. The only thing, Em, is that Marvin seems to know more about my future than I do.”
“Well, if I were you,” Reverend Moody suggested, “I’d stay up a little longer and write that letter you want me to drop for you later today.”
Eleanor grinned. “You would, would you? I’m a step ahead of you, Reverend.” Eleanor pulled one envelope from her Bible sitting on top of the small table next to her chair. “I made sure to gently chastise my beloved for telling Marvin more than he told me about my wedding plans.”
Thanks for reading. If you like the story, please leave me a comment. And please consider sharing it with your friends. With the LORD's help, we might reach 2,000 readers, which could persuade a new publisher to print the entire series.
