Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [167]
Grant seems to have a determination that the other generals lacked. He doesn’t care how many of his own men die, and has vowed to stay here all summer if he has to. Our Confederate forces were well entrenched at Cold Harbor, and we turned back fourteen separate Union assaults before the Yanks refused to obey orders to attack again.In a matter of hours, Caroline, we killed about seven thousand of their men, and I pray I never have to do anything like that again.The dead littered the ground for more than five acres. Grant may have hoped that this would be the decisive battle, but he couldn’t defeat us. . . .
We all thought General Grant would move toward Richmond next, and Charles marched south again with Lee’s army to meet him. But Grant skirted around the city instead, crossing the James River on a pontoon bridge, and headed south toward Petersburg to try to choke off our main supply routes. Petersburg nearly fell on June 15, but the meager Rebel troops stationed there held off a Union force more than three times larger than their own before reinforcements arrived. Then the two armies reached a standstill.
This war has become a digging contest. We’ve attacked and killed and maimed each other for six weeks, and now both sides have dug in for a siege. I guess it will continue this way until one of us runs out of men.
Meanwhile, we live like moles in a maze of trenches called zigzags that are open to rain and sun, shell and mortar fire. During a battle, thousands of us are crammed in, side by side, and we can’t get out, stand up, stretch our arms and legs, or even lie down to sleep, for days at a time. Something as simple as raising your head or going for a cup of water could cost you your life. At night, we can hear the enemy talking to each other in their trenches in between the shelling.We can even smell the smoke of their cigarettes.
When the war first started, I remember how we all dove for cover whenever we heard the sound of cannon or rifle fire. But now I’m so used to the sound of bullets singing over my head and shells exploding day and night, and men dying on either side of me, that I can hardly recall any other way of life. Caroline, my love, I don’t write all these alarming things to upset you, but so that you will understand the truth of my situation—and be prepared. The love we share keeps me strong. My dreams of our future together encourage me to go on.
I love you,
Charles
“We been through a lot of hard times in this war,” Esther said with a sigh, “but I do believe this summer we seen the hardest times yet. Good thing you never did eat much, Missy, cause we sure ain’t having very much to eat these days.”
We were all gathered in the kitchen for our supper one hot night in July. In order to conserve fuel, it was the only meal Esther cooked each day. Richmond was very close to starvation because of the siege. The food that did make it through on the remaining rail line had to be shared with the troops guarding the city. At our house we had fresh produce, thanks to Eli and Gilbert, but no meat except for the fish I brought home from my visits to Mr. Ferguson. I still brought him a few tidbits of news each week, mostly things I’d learned from the steady stream of wounded men arriving at the hospital. Sometimes I managed to glean a little more information at the countless funerals I attended.
“I’m gonna ask you something, Missy,” Esther continued, fanning herself in the summer heat. “I sure hope you ain’t gonna get upset with me.”
“Of course not, Esther.” I bent to pick up baby Isaac, who was clamoring to crawl up onto my lap. “You may