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Letter to Mary

 

By Marge Burke

One

Daniel got off the train and stood on the wooden platform of the Pittsburg train station, watching great gulps of gray smoke puff into the air.  A white fog rose to meet the smoke, lifting from somewhere underneath the engine.  In the dim light of the September early morning, it looked to Daniel as though the train were an apparition, a ghostly object that did not really exist.

            The great black engine slowly began to move, and Daniel stood watching as his last link with home clattered off down the tracks, headed back to Albion, to his Mary.  He shifted his knapsack to his other shoulder, trying to ease the burden.  He realized suddenly that the weight he struggled with was not on his shoulders, but deep in his chest.   It threatened to suffocate him, and he gulped in several deep breaths.  His thoughts swirled around him like the gray smoke.

            He glanced around him at his regiment. Most of the men on the platform with him looked as disoriented as he felt, although a few were relaxed and joking with each other.  Daniel could see Sergeant Prentis across the platform by the depot, conversing with another officer.  He watched as the senior officer saluted, then turned and strode off.  Sergeant Prentis lifted his hat from his head, rubbed his other hand through his matted hair, and replaced the hat snugly.  Then the sergeant turned toward his new recruits.

            For the next several minutes the soldiers stood at attention, struggling to understand all of the information being hurled at them.  Daniel heard the how to, where, when, why, why not, cannot, do not, who, and in what condition he was expected to perform.  The words buzzed around him like a swarm of bees.

            Daniel was used to hard work and considered himself in good physical shape, but   standing erect with a 50 pound knapsack slung across his back for so long at a stretch was taxing his stamina. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the slight shifting in the position of the men down the line. 

            “Eyes straight ahead, soldier!”  Sergeant Prentis barked.

             Daniel snapped his eyes forward.

            The train ride from Girard to Pittsburg hadn’t been as uncomfortable as Daniel had expected.  He had heard horror stories of men being piled into cars shoulder to shoulder with no room even to sit down. They had all been seated, for which they had been thankful, and had even been served a breakfast of biscuits and fruit.  It was undoubtedly the last bit of comfort they would experience for a long time.

            Laying his head back in the seat, he had closed his eyes and transported himself back to Mary and little Alice, standing in the yard where he had left them. Alice had his black felt hat nested on her head, and she could barely see out from under it.  Daniel’s breath caught in his throat as he saw again the unshed tears glistening in Mary’s eyes as she struggled for composure.  Daniel knew she did not want his last sight of her to be one of despair or anger.  His Mary.  He loved her for a thousand reasons and he could have named them all right then.

            He could still hear Charlie’s loud good-byes at the station as he and Uncle Minos had seen the train off. Daniel had leaned out the window, waving his Army issue hat from the train window above the crowded platform.              “That’s my pa, the one waving to me,” Charlie had proclaimed to anyone who would listen. “He’s going to fight Rebs.”

            “PRIVATE!” 

            Daniel jumped, bringing his thoughts back to the present. He focused on the wide eyes staring him in the face.  Sergeant Prentis spat his words so that Daniel felt a spray of accompanying spit showering over him.  The sergeant then continued his tirade at the other soldiers.  They dared not move.

            The gray skies began to close in around the soldiers on the platform, and a fine mist materialized out of nothing.  It was not rain; it was just there, like a thick fog suspended above the ground.  Despite his hat, Daniel felt the dampness against his face, even settling on his eyelashes.     

            Sergeant Prentis glanced upward, scowling.  It was as if he dared the skies to defy him.  Finally he drew his men into two columns and sent them marching from the platform onto the muddy street in front of them. 

            Daniel’s backpack weighed him down and his feet sloshed in the mud, making a sucking noise as he lifted them.  What was really only a mile stretched out like two, and when they finally stopped to make camp he was surprised to find it was barely ten o’clock in the morning.

              The great wooden building in front of the recruits offered little comfort.  As the command came to fall out, each man trudged up the steps to find a place to call his own.  Daniel was appalled at the sight that greeted them. The floor was covered with ashes and mud.  Straw from old mattresses was strewn about, matted together and dried in clumps.  Cobwebs clung to the corners and the windows. Tobacco spit stained the walls and floors.

              A cold dampness permeated the room, even though the windows had been boarded up from the outside elements. The stench was overwhelming.  He gagged at the rot and waste and turned away.

            “Move in, there, Crouch,” called a voice behind him.  “It’s wet out here.”

            “At least we can breathe outside,” Daniel muttered as he stepped into the building.

            “Your first assignment, men,” Sergeant Prentis spat, “is to get this place in shape.  You’ll find supplies in the lean-to outside the back door.  Snap to it.  We don’t have all day!”  With that, the sergeant stomped through the archway and disappeared into the mist.

             “Maybe the mist will swallow him up, and he won’t come back,” muttered the man beside Daniel, looking for a clean place to drop his knapsack.  Instead, he walked across the room and stuck it on a protruding nail.  Daniel and several others did the same.  It promised to be a long afternoon.

                                                                   ~*~

 

              It had taken them two days to get the barracks into decent shape.  Halfway through the first afternoon the men had to stop their cleaning chores and focus on the more immediate problems of food and warmth.  Several men were sent to chop firewood and drag it back to camp; others dug sinks or privies.  By the time a meal had been cooked and eaten, night had fallen.  Daniel cleared away enough debris on the floor to make his bed, then fell exhausted into the blankets and slept until the shrill call of morning reveille roused him.

            After the first week, their entire days were spent drilling and marching.  Daniel’s knees refused to bend after the second day of drilling and he found himself tripping over his own two feet.  His shoes seemed like leaden weights, and he often looked down in amazement to see that he was still wearing the boots he had left home in.  They felt, instead, like anvils carved into shoes. 

            He lost track of how many volleys they fired, loading and reloading until he found himself repeating the process in his sleep.  There were not enough bayonets, so he tied whatever makeshift object he could find to the end of his gun to practice lunging forward into the enemy.  Daniel could not imagine in his wildest thoughts that he would actually have the strength and courage to plunge a real bayonet into anyone intentionally. Firing a gun at a man was bad enough, but ramming through another human being because someone had decided he was the enemy seemed cruel and heartless.  However, he reasoned, if it meant his life or theirs, he would probably react without hesitation.

            Daniel sat on a stump to take apart his gun and clean it.  He looked up to see several younger women walking toward him with armloads of laundry.  There were only a few women in camp, most of whom did not sleep there.  Several of the officers had wives close enough to visit, and often a local woman or young girl came out to do laundry.  The piles of sweat-drenched shirts rose as the men tossed them aside.  It was impossible for the laundresses to keep ahead of sheets, shirts and trousers that were discarded daily.

             “Hi, soldier.  Have a name?” one of the women asked, moving to stand so close to him that he could feel her skirts against his leg.

             “I’ve got two, as a matter of fact.  But mostly I go by Daniel.”  He smiled at the women, but shifted on the stump away from the feel of the skirts.

             “I had an uncle named Daniel,” the woman said.  “He died when I was a baby.  He was quite saucy with the women, mostly.  I’m sure you know how to turn a woman’s head, Daniel.”

              He had seen for himself the army’s attitude toward such women when one of the soldiers accepted an offer and was caught.  As punishment the soldier was ordered to march around the outskirts of the camp with the girl to make a spectacle of himself and her.  If he refused, he was poked in the behind with the tip of a bayonet until the blood ran into his heels.  The embarrassed soldier finally thought it best to tread up, after which he was thrown into the guardhouse. 

Daniel unfolded from his seat, still gripping the rifle in both hands.  “It has been a pleasure to meet you both, but I must get back to my quarters.  I’ve a letter to my wife that needs finishing if I want to post it tonight.”  Daniel freed a hand to lift the tip of his hat.  “If you’ll excuse me, ladies…”  He turned and walked away, but could hear them laughing as he went.  His face burned, but he would have no parts of women like them.

            “Crouch, what do you think you are doing?”  asked one of the men from his company.  “Why would you pass up an opportunity like that, man?”

            “I have a wife at home.  Don’t you?”

             “Sure, most of us do.  What does that have to do with anything?”  The man folded his arms across his chest and eyed Daniel sarcastically.

Daniel knew this man, even more than most, liked to brag about getting away with an evening spent in the company of certain young women.

             “You ever hear of being faithful?”  Daniel was suddenly aware of the audience their conversation had drawn.

            “I’m as faithful as I’m gonna get, stuck here in this camp with nothing else but the likes of you to look at.  I’ll take my pleasure as offered, and suggest you try the same.”  The man snickered, and a few others joined him, but Daniel knew that sort of behavior was not for him.  As deep as his ache was for Mary and her soft warmth, he had no intention of betraying her in any way. 

                                                                               ~*~

            There was no daylight as Daniel opened his eyes. The thin early morning was obscured by thick fog and heavy clouds.  He shivered as he peeled himself from his bedroll and pulled on his coat.  He could feel a heaving in his chest, and knew that the cold and cough he had contracted the day before was now settled much deeper than his throat.  Every breath brought an urge to cough.

            A light drizzle was falling as Daniel joined the other men on the way to mess.  The sound of sizzling bacon met his ears, but he quickly realized that it was only drops of moisture hitting the flames of the cook fires dotted outside the mess tent.  He gratefully accepted a cup of hot black coffee in a tin cup, blowing cautiously after the first swallow singed his windpipe.

            “We got our marching orders.” 

The men stopped chewing and turned toward the speaker.  Jim Oliver appeared to relish the attention, and was in no hurry to offer his information.  Daniel shifted impatiently.

              “Well, man, what are they?” John Irvin, one of Daniel’s friends, challenged.  “Or don’t you have privilege to that information?”

             Jim scowled at John. Daniel watched the scene with interest. John glared back.  Daniel cleared his throat. 

            Jim Oliver drew his eyes away from John and back to the group. “We’re going to Bull Run.”

             The men muttered confusedly at the news.  “But we can’t go there,” John said. “They already fought a battle there: Manassas.”

             “Two battles.” Another man in the barracks spoke up.  He knew about every battle that had been fought since the firing on Fort Sumter.  “They fought two battles.  One in ’61, and one in ’62.  What’s to stop from having a third?”

             Oliver heaved a great sigh and stood.  The group fell silent as he looked from one to the other of them, slowly.  “There’s fightin’ there, I’ll tell you that.  Considerable fightin’.  We may get in a tangle of it, but we won’t be there long.”  The men waited, knowing there was more coming, and it was certain to be good.  “We’re headin’ for Washington DC.  We’re joinin’ up with the Army of the Potomac.”             Daniel lost his appetite, and stared at the food on his plate as if it had suddenly turned unappealing.  The Army of the Potomac!  The finest army in all of the Northern states, whipped into shape by General George B. McClellan, set to defend Washington D.C. and determined to take the confederate city of Richmond, Virginia, away from General Lee. The finest army, maybe, but also the most shot at.  His chances of being in the thick of things had just increased dramatically.  

            Well, he thought to himself, fighting off the fear and dread that threatened to overwhelm him, I joined up to fight and to defend my country.  It looks like I’ll have my chance.

 

Two

 

Pittsburg  Sept 25, 1863

 

Dear Mary, I have just got to camp 8 miles from Pittsburg and am almost tired out – my side aches so that I can’t hardly navigate.  Now, Mary, I am going to make the best I can of it but one of the sorryest things I ever done was to join up.  I would give every cent I am worth to get out of it because I know I cannot stand it, the thoughts of leaving you and the babies is too much for my mind.  I think if I had a substitute that could wear my clothes I could get him in here in place of me.  We have enough to eat but I can’t eat enough to keep a cat in good order.

 

Now Mary do the best you can – don’t feel bad because I do.  Pray for me.  I guess you had not better write yet for I don’t know where to direct it – we shall go to the Potomac army, 46^th Regiment.  Well, Mary, good bye.  Daniel Crouch.

 

            Mary ran her hand over the coarse paper, trying to feel Daniel through the words on the page. A smile touched the corner of her mouth against her will.  It was so like Daniel to be dramatic, even in his letters.

            His disappointment with army life left a dull ache in her chest.  War was not the glory he had hoped for, and he was not shy about telling her so. She would write him light-hearted, loving letters.  It would give him a bit of home to carry with him.

            Mary’s mind went back to the September afternoon that he had left.  Their parting had been neither sweet nor melancholy.  He had stood beside her, hat in hand, stumbling over instructions that he had given her a dozen times already. 

            “Amos Keep will bring wood when you need it, and help with the barn work.  Just let him know what needs done,”  he told her.

              She nodded, watching his face.  She wanted to remember every detail of it.  Her dread was that she would not be able to remember him clearly.

             “Your brother Minos will stop, too, when Amos cannot.  But Amos has been such a help to me already that he is familiar with everything.”

            Mary reached up to touch his lips.  “I will be fine.  You have taught me well, and Charlie will help.  The important thing is for you to take care of yourself and come home to me safe and sound.”

            Daniel leaned down to kiss Mary’s lips ever so lightly. “My star pupil,” he whispered.  They had worked together for months, and Mary felt confident.

Charlie dashed between them, running around in circles, using an oddly shaped tree branch for a gun, ‘shooting the Rebs’. Alice clung to her mother’s neck, her thumb stuck in her mouth and her curly blond hair tumbling into her round blue eyes. 

             Daniel stepped back, but Mary laid her hand on his arm.

            “Daniel, look at me.”  Mary willed Daniel’s eyes to meet hers.  “You have set your course.  We must do this thing that you have decided.  So go.”  Daniel opened his mouth to protest, but Mary placed her finger lightly on his lips. “Just go with peace in your heart.  Fight your war from the ranks.  I will do my part here, at home.”  Mary handed Alice to her father, calling to Charlie as she did so.  “Charlie, come tell your Pa good-bye.  Uncle Minos is waiting to take him to the train.”

            Alice studied her father’s bearded face intently.  She lifted her tiny hand to trace the bushy eyebrows and the moustache curved over his lip.  She touched the end of his nose and then leaned in to kiss it, as her father often did to her. 

            Despite himself, Daniel had laughed.  “Oh, my sweet Alice.  How can I bear not kissing you goodnight?”  He took his black felt hat and placed it on her head.  “You keep track of this for me, will you?”

            Alice nodded.

             Charlie pulled on his father’s coat, demanding his share of the farewell. “Pa, can I ride with Uncle Minos to the station?  Please, Pa?  I’d surely like to see that train, ‘specially the steam from them big injuns.” 

             Daniel looked from Charlie to Mary.  She shrugged her shoulders.  What did it matter if Charlie went.  Minos would see he got home.  It was Daniel that he wouldn’t bring back.

             Minos cleared his throat and stepped closer.  “I’d be happy to bring the boy back, Mary.  I thought I might stay to supper, if you’ll have me.”             Mary could see right through her brother’s attempt to fill her first evening without her husband, but was grateful for it, nonetheless.

             “We’d be glad to have you, Minos.”  Mary forced a smile.  “The trip to the station will help fill in the time for Charlie.”  With that, an excited Charlie had pulled his father to the team and wagon, leaving Daniel with barely time to hand Alice back and give Mary a final hug.  He handed Mary a tiny squared box, and folded her hand around it.  Then he lifted Charlie into the wagon.

             The feel of his lips lingered on hers as he waved to his ‘girls’.  Mary stood watching until they were gone from sight.  She clutched at the box, and felt salty tears burning at her eyes.  Her heart felt heavier than the child in her arms. 

He was gone.