As the Army of Northern Virginia prepared for battle, more than a few agreed that they had suffered ill fortune since leaving Virginia. General Lee had been thrown by his horse, Traveler, badly injuring both wrists. He could not ride now but had to be driven in a wagon. Strangely enough, Stonewall Jackson had also been thrown by his horse, and the fall had badly wrenched his back, so that he had trouble making the journey. The leader of the second corps, General James Longstreet, had blisters on his feet so bad that he couldn’t walk and had to ride wherever he went.
It was a ragtag army indeed that made its way through Maryland. Many of the men had no shoes at all. And worse than the pain of cut feet was their gnawing hunger.
Long after, Leah would read a newspaper account of one Confederate’s experience. Private Alexander Hunter of the Seventeenth Virginia wrote home, “For six days, not a morsel of meat or bread had gone into our stomachs. Our menu consisted of apples and corn.”
But the Southern army toiled on, ill and exhausted. Some fell too far behind to catch up. Some simply refused to go, insisting they had enlisted to defend their homeland, not to invade the North. In all, about fifteen hundred men dropped out of Lee’s army during the march.
As the troops approached a high bluff, Jeff rattled out the orders on his drum, then his company drew up on the edge of the cliff. Far below, as in the bottom of a bowl, lay Harper’s Ferry.
Jeff’s father studied the town and said, “I’d rather take that place forty times than try to defend it once.”
Jeff nodded. “And so it’s good we’re on the side that’s doing the taking, Pa—Captain. We sorely need the ammunition and supplies we’ll find down below.”
The battle was relatively simple. Stonewall Jackson had brought three divisions to do the job, and there was never any question about the Confederates’ superiority, even in their bedraggled state. The armory was impossible to defend, and soon Jackson and his men had performed one of the great feats of the war: they captured the armory plus 11,000 Union troops, not to mention an enormous amount of supplies, including badly needed muskets and cannons.
Despite this victory, the Confederates had little time to savor it or to rest. Orders came for the Stonewall Brigade and the rest of Jackson’s troops to come at once to Sharpsburg.
The troops arrived so tired they could hardly stand up. The officers led them to their positions along the creek.
“We’ll be the Confederate left,” Tom told Jeff and the rest of the squad. “I expect they’ll be coming right across that cornfield, so try to sleep while you can.”
Stars overhead spangled the velvet blackness of the night. Jeff lay looking up. He knew that Charlie Bowers, who lay next to him, was badly scared, so he tried to reassure him, urging, “Don’t worry, Charlie. God will look out for us.”
But even Jeff, with aching bones and sore feet, dreaded to see morning come. He’d heard rumors that there were 100,000 Yankees across Antietam Creek, and he fully expected half that number to come charging through the cornfield right at the Stonewall Brigade.
Charlie turned to look at him, his youthful face tense. “Aren’t you scared, Jeff?”
“About the battle tomorrow?”
“What else? Of course. Are you afraid?”
“I guess I have to admit it—at least a little.”
“Me too.”
Jeff rolled over and saw that his friend was as tense as a wire spring. “You know, Charlie, I guess if we went down this line and asked every soldier, ‘Are you scared?’ most of them would say they are.”
Charlie considered this, then objected, “Some of them don’t act scared.”
“I hope I don’t show it. But most of us spend a lot of time putting on an act—and a lot of time praying.”
This seemed to interest Charlie. He propped himself up on his elbow and peered at Jeff. “How’s that?”
“Oh, I reckon you know.” Jeff shrugged. “Lots of stuff goes on inside of us that we wouldn’t like everybody to know about.”
“What kind of stuff?” Charlie pursued.
Jeff squirmed, then said, “Look, have you ever had a fight with someone just before church?”
“Sure!”
“Well, when you went to the service, what’d you do?”
“Yes, you did.” Jeff grinned at him. “You didn’t go around scowling and hitting people. You stood up and sang the hymns and bowed your head when the preacher prayed. You acted nice, even if you were boiling over inside.”
Charlie was somewhat shocked. “How’d you know I done like that, Jeff?”
“Because I’ve done the same thing. And so have most of the fellows in this line. I guess we don’t think much about it at the time, but we hide a lot of what goes on inside us.”
“Be pretty awful if we didn’t, wouldn’t it?”
Jeff lay back and looked up at the stars that glittered overhead. He could hear the sound of men moving restlessly, and from far away came the mournful sound of a dog howling. “I guess so—but it’s not exactly honest to put on an act.”
Charlie lay back too, and Jeff listened to the sounds of the night.
Finally Charlie murmured, “Well, I’ll pray for you, and you pray for me. All right, Jeff?”
“Sure, Charlie, that’s fine! We all better be praying up a storm, come dawn!”