Freedom (Gone For Soldiers) Read online

  Freedom

  By

  Jeffry S. Hepple

  Book Three of the Johnny Comes Marching Home Trilogy

  Copyright 2012, Jeffry S. Hepple ~ All rights reserved.

  Dedicated to the offspring of my offspring and their offspring: Joe, Josh, Megan, Daniel, Alex, Camden and Annalisa. May you always be blessed with good health, happiness, the magic of books, and the freedom bought by the sacrifices of our ancestors.

  With continued thanks to all whose support keeps me going: Geoff Thomas, Brian Palesch, Margaret Lake, Mindy Schwartz and especially Susan Trotter.

  Table of Contents

  1863, 1864, 1865

  Preface

  In late spring of 1863, Confederate President Jefferson Davis summoned General Robert E. Lee to Richmond to devise a battle plan to stop Union General Ulysses S. Grant’s relentless siege of Vicksburg. General James Longstreet, who had become Lee’s most trusted advisor, accompanied Lee on the journey.

  To force Grant to abandon his siege at Vicksburg, Davis wanted Lee to send all or part of his Army of Northern Virginia to attack Union General William S. Rosecrans in Tennessee. Longstreet agreed with Davis, but Lee suggested an alternative campaign, threatening Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Washington to draw Grant’s army north. Davis eventually acquiesced when Lee argued further that an invasion of the North would provide his army with much needed provisions in the form of food from the Northern farms as well as clothing from Northern factories and warehouses. Although Longstreet accepted the decision of his superiors, he felt that it was a serious mistake.

  To ease the political pressure which was insisting that he take more direct action to break the siege of Vicksburg, Davis also ordered General Edmund Kirby Smith, commander of the Trans-Mississippi Department, to break up the Union supply line. Smith, believing that Grant’s supply line was on the Louisiana side of the Mississippi River, sent General John George Walker’s Division of Texans to join General Richard Taylor in an attack on the depot at Milliken’s Bend.

  On June 3rd, Lee began the march north from Fredericksburg, Virginia, buying food, animals and supplies with useless Confederate script and capturing free blacks, who he sent south to be sold as slaves. Lee’s army now consisted of 73,000 men in three large corps commanded by Longstreet and Generals Richard S. Ewell and A.P. Hill. The cavalry division, commanded by General J.E.B. Stuart, nominally under Longstreet’s command, was in reality Lee’s eyes.

  On June 7th, Walker’s Texans attacked the Union supply depot at Milliken’s Bend, Louisiana where they were repelled by two companies of the 10th Illinois Cavalry under the command of Union Colonel Hermann Lieb and the newly formed African Brigade commanded by Sergeant Major Abraham Van Buskirk. In the grand scheme of the Civil War, the battle of Milliken’s Bend was insignificant, but it changed the minds of many skeptics who thought that black soldiers would not, or could not, fight. Assistant Secretary of War Charles A. Dana said, “The bravery of the blacks completely revolutionized the sentiment of the army with regard to the employment of negro troops.”

  As Lee continued to march north, he was shadowed by the 94,000-man Union Army of the Potomac under the command of General Joseph Hooker. Hooker’s force consisted of seven infantry corps, a cavalry corps, and an artillery reserve.

  At Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, on the 26th of June, the new and untrained Pennsylvania militia engaged in several skirmishes with troops from Confederate General Jubal Early’s division of Ewell’s Corps. The Rebel forces burned a bridge and railroad cars, ripped up rails, tore down telegraph lines, and then rode out. The Pennsylvania militia dispatched reports to General Hooker and Hooker responded by sending General John Buford’s cavalry to investigate.

  On the 28th, in a dispute with the War Department over the use of forces at Harper’s Ferry, Hooker threatened to resign. President Abraham Lincoln and General-in-Chief Henry W. Halleck, who had been looking for an excuse to replace Hooker, accepted his resignation and put General George Gordon Meade in command of the Army of the Potomac. Meade immediately crossed the Potomac River and closed toward Lee.

  At this time, the Confederate army was spread in a fifty-mile arc from Chambersburg to the Susquehanna River. In response to Meade’s movement, Lee began to concentrate his forces at Cashtown, a few miles west of the hamlet of Gettysburg.

  Map by Hal Jespersen, www.cwmaps.com

  June 30, 1863

  Gettysburg, Pennsylvania

  A few sputtering gunshots marked the end of a skirmish as General Paul Van Buskirk climbed the stairs to the cupola atop the Lutheran Theological Seminary. “It was a brigade commanded by J. Johnson Pettigrew, sir.”

  General John Buford lowered his binoculars and turned to face his subordinate. “Pettigrew?”

  Paul nodded. “Henry Heth’s division. In A.P. Hill’s corps.”

  Buford raised the glasses to his eyes again and swept the fields below. “They sure didn’t put up much of a fight. You’d expect more from seasoned veterans.”

  “They were only sent to Gettysburg to look for shoes. Their orders were to avoid any major engagements.”

  “How do you know all that?”

  “We captured one of the skirmishers.”

  “Good. Have him brought up here. I want to talk to him myself.”

  “Sorry, sir. I let him escape after he was told that we’re the Pennsylvania militia.”

  Once again, Buford lowered the binoculars and turned toward Paul. “Why? What were you thinkin’?”

  “I was hoping that Pettigrew would tell Heth that Gettysburg’s only protection is militia.”

  “Don’t tell me that you wanna stay here?”

  “It’s good ground, sir.”

  “I can see that, Pea, but we’re just here to scout. We can’t whip Ambrose Hill’s corps all by ourselves.”

  “If Heth believes Pettigrew’s assessment, we’ll only be facing Heth’s division tomorrow morning, not A.P. Hill’s entire corps. That’ll give General Reynolds and General Meade more time to get here.”

  “There’s not much difference in Heth’s division and Hill’s corps. We can’t hold the town against Heth alone.”

  “I know.” Paul nodded. “But with an organized retreat through the town we might be able to hold the high ground until we’re reinforced by General Reynolds’s First Corps.”

  Buford looked dubious.

  “This is good ground, sir,” Paul insisted. “Just look at it.”

  Buford turned back to survey the terrain again. “Yeah, it’s good ground all right, but I sure don’t see how we can hold it. Not without some help from Reynolds anyway.”

  “Any possibility of that, sir?”

  “Maybe. He says that that they intend to march all night with their two strongest brigades, but I’m not sure that’ll be good enough.”

  “How far behind him is Meade?”

  “Reynolds didn’t say. But Abner Doubleday has the rest of First Corps and Doubleday’s comin’ right behind Reynolds as fast as he can.” Buford stroked his mustache. “If we had the whole corps, we could give the Rebs a real good fight here, but – well, we don’t so that’s that.”

  “Doubleday?” Paul mused. “My Uncle Jack is Reynolds’s adjutant. Why isn’t he commanding the main body?”

  “Jack’s up front with Reynolds. I don’t know or care why.” He looked at Paul. “Are you payin’ attention to me? They’re not gonna get here until about noon tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m paying attention.”

  “It doesn’t seem like it. It’s dubious that we could hold off Heth, even with the two brigades from One-Corps and there’s not a chance in hell that we can do it alone.”

  “Did he say which brigades?�
�

  “What’s that?”

  “You said Reynolds and Jack were coming with two brigades. Did Reynolds mention which brigades?”

  “Yeah. The Iron Brigade and the Pennsylvania Bucktail Brigade.”

  “Good.” Paul nodded.

  “Why?”

  “I just wanted to know how likely it was that they’d run away from a fight. Both brigades are tough and seasoned. The Iron Brigade’s never retreated.”

  “The bigger question that you keep dancin’ around is whether or not we can hold out here by ourselves long enough to get them into the fight,” Buford growled.

  “It’s a big gamble, I admit, but – this is such good ground. We’ve never had this kind of advantage over Lee. If we could just…”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Buford interrupted. “I understand what you’re sayin’, Pea. Stop sellin’ and let me think.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did you locate a map?”

  “Not exactly.” Paul handed a folded page to Buford. “A shopkeeper sketched this for me. It’s not very good, but it gives a reasonable representation of the terrain features. He’s marked the high ground with dotted lines and labeled the features for us.”

  Buford unfolded the paper and spread it on the cupola’s railing. “What’s the scale?”

  Paul touched the map with his index finger. “It’s about two miles from Gettysburg to this little hill that they call Round Top.”

  Buford looked away from the sketch to match it with the terrain, then shook his head. “Like I been tellin’ you, it’s just too much ground to hold. Even with the two brigades from First Corps, we’d have twenty yards between each man. Look for yourself.”

  “We don’t have to control the whole line, sir,” Paul said, tracing the elevation lines on the rough map, “just these three ridges west of town. If Heth falls for our little deception, he’ll be confused by the strength of our defenses and he’ll pull back to regroup. That will give us some time. When Reynolds gets here, he can position a brigade above these grain fields and hold the center with the other brigade until Doubleday gets here with the rest of his corps, and Meade arrives with the rest of the army.”

  “I wish I could believe that.” Buford thought for several seconds before answering. “How far away is A.P. Hill’s main body?”

  “A half day.”

  “Well hell. He’ll be able to reinforce Heth before Reynolds arrives.”

  “Yes, sir. But Heth will be thinking that we’re reinforced militia and he won’t want to ask for Hill for help.”

  “You’re willing to gamble on that?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  “No, sir. I figure we can always outrun them, if it gets too hot.”

  “Have you forgotten that Lee’s whole army, includin’ Jeb Stuart’s cavalry corps, is right over there in Cashtown?”

  Paul shrugged. “I’m not afraid of Jeb. We’re better armed and better mounted than he is and our men are better trained.”

  Buford looked toward the distant hills and shook his head. “We don’t have enough men and that’s all there is to it.” He turned and pointed to the end of the ridge. “Maybe we could delay Heth, but then Hill could flank us before Reynolds gets here.”

  “Hill’s no Robert E. Lee, sir. He’s going to be reluctant to divide his force. He’ll try to take the high ground head-on before trying a flanking attack. He’s never faced these Spenser repeating rifles.”

  “Countin’ on that’s a big gamble. ‘Little Powell’ Hill’s a veteran of the Mexican War and the Seminole Wars. If he sees an opportunity to flank us, he’ll take it.”

  “This is very good ground, General,” Paul urged. “Holding it is worth a big gamble.”

  Buford didn’t respond.

  “We could whip Robert E. Lee and destroy his army here, General,” Paul insisted. “We might even be able to end this damn war. Right here, right now.”

  Buford examined the landscape again and then faced Paul. “Lots of ifs, Pea. If we have the high ground and if Bobby Lee’s stupid enough to attack us while we hold it and if Meade stands and fights.”

  Paul shrugged. “Lee’s consistently beat the hell out of us against all odds, sir. He’s got no reason to be cautious now.”

  “And Meade?”

  “He must be under intense pressure from the War Department and the President to attack.”

  “So was George McClellan. The pressure didn’t seem to bother him much.”

  Paul shrugged. “You could be right. I don’t know Meade at all.”

  Buford studied the crude map for another minute. “You’re right about our men bein’ better armed than the Rebs and they’re damn-sure hungry for a victory.” He shrugged. “Who knows? That might be enough to give us the edge.”

  Paul’s expression brightened. “Yes, sir. And they’re hungry for revenge for Fredericksburg.”

  “You know this could be, and probably will be, the end of us, don’t ya?”

  “Yes, sir. But a victory here would be glorious.”

  “Okay.” Buford chuckled and gave a determined nod. “Okay. We go for broke. We’ll fight a delayin’ action through the town, retreat to the high ground and then hold it at all cost. Tell the bugler to blow officer’s call and let’s spread the bad news.”

  “Yes, sir.” Paul saluted, then rushed down the steps.

  June 30, 1863

  Milliken’s Bend, Louisiana

  Two hundred Negro recruits were assembled in a rough formation. A tall, handsome black man in the uniform of a Union Sergeant Major strode from the orderly shack.

  “At ease,” the sergeant major shouted.

  There was a buzz of conversation as the new men asked the more experienced what they were supposed to do.

  “At ease means stay where you are and stop talking,” the sergeant major explained. He waited a moment, then looked at the assembly. Some of the men were barefoot and dressed in rags while others wore the clothes of workmen; two men sported suits and ties and a handful were in Union blues. “My name is Sergeant Major Abraham Van Buskirk. I’m going to tell you a little about myself so that we have no misunderstandings in the future. My great-grandmother was the slave of Colonel Abraham Van Buskirk who served the English King during the Revolutionary War. After the war, before the colonel was exiled, he gave my great-grandmother her freedom and a valuable piece of property on the New Jersey side of New York Bay. She took the surname Van Buskirk as her own.

  “My mother died giving birth to my sister. I never knew my father. I was raised and educated by my grandmother and the white Van Buskirks, who treated me like a member of their family. Until this war began, I never knew what it was to be black, but I’m beginning to understand now.” He looked from face to face. “Although few of us have ever been to Africa, we are the African Brigade. We have no officers, our weapons are old, we don’t have enough uniforms for everyone and we’re paid less than white soldiers. You may not like it, but that’s the way it is. Anyone who wants to can leave now. Those who stay will stay until the war’s over or until they’re dead.”

  No one left.

  June 30, 1863

  Cashtown, Pennsylvania

  Confederate Brigadier General J. Johnston Pettigrew saluted his division commander, Major General Henry Heth. “You wanted to see me, sir?” Pettigrew asked.

  Heth nodded. “I’m told that you failed to obtain any supplies from Gettysburg.”

  Pettigrew squirmed. “General Lee’s orders were to avoid any major engagement, sir.”

  “I hardly think that a skirmish with the Pennsylvania militia could be considered a major engagement.”

  “I’m not convinced that it was only militia, sir. They were very good marksmen and armed with repeating carbines. I think it was dismounted Union cavalry.”

  Heth waved his hand dismissively. “Militia supported by a squadron of regular Yankee cavalry.”

  “More than a squadron, sir. Perhaps even mo
re than a brigade.”

  “There’s no such force anywhere near here,” Heth said.

  “How do we know that, sir? We’ve lost contact with Jeb Stuart’s cavalry.”

  “We’ll find out for ourselves, then. Tomorrow morning we’ll mount a reconnaissance in force on Gettysburg.”

  “A reconnaissance with the whole division, sir?”

  “Yes. A reconnaissance with the whole division.”

  “But General Lee’s orders…”

  “You should worry about me and let me worry about General Lee,” Heth said sharply.

  “Yes, sir.” Pettigrew saluted and hurried away.

  July 1, 1863

  06:27

  Gettysburg, Pennsylvania

  John Buford turned away from the cupola rail as Paul Van Buskirk reached the platform. “Any contact, Pea?”

  “Not yet, sir. I’ve brought you a better map. One of the students drew it. It seems to be quite good.”

  “Let’s see.”

  Paul unrolled the map. “Heth’s division is coming down Chambersburg Pike with two brigades as his van.” He pointed to the road on the map. “The three ridges that we’re occupying are called Herr Ridge, McPherson Ridge, and Seminary Ridge.”

  “Do we know which brigades are in Heth’s van?” Buford asked, examining the map.

  Paul looked at his notes. “James J. Archer and Joseph R. Davis.”

  “Not Pettigrew?”

  “No, sir. Heth must be angry at Pettigrew.”

  Buford grinned. “For letting untrained militia chase him off.”

  “Yes, sir. It looks like Heth bought our deception, but he’s coming in force to get revenge.”

  “Let’s try to take advantage of his underestimation and deny him his revenge.” Buford studied the map. “As soon as Reynolds gets here, he needs to occupy Cemetery Hill, Cemetery Ridge, and Culp’s Hill. Send a messenger to him with a sketch of this map. Be sure to note these grain fields.”