The next morning Hosea and Boone trudged off to join the ranks of Major Hartshorne’s new regiment. Bucky and Jimmy went with them to see how many of their old comrades had decided to stay in the army. When the 190th Pennsylvania drew up in formation, Jewett gasped, “Why, there must be over 200 brave fellows that reenlisted. That’s almost half of the surviving First Rifles!”
“At least one company o’ them boys joined the Bucktails later than us an’ is only there ta serve out their time,” reminded Bucky. “Ya ain’t gettin’ no foolish notions, are ya, Jimmy?”
“No, they couldn’t get me to re-sign even if General Grant himself shoved me down a cannon barrel and threatened to shoot me at the Rebs. I plan to enter the first law school that will accept me.”
“Good man, Jimmy. Hey, look. Hartshorne’s ’bout ta address the troops.”
Major Ross Hartshorne surveyed his new regiment with pride blazing in his eyes. “Men, welcome to the 190th Pennsylvania,” he began. “Your country and commander dearly appreciate your patriotism. It is with brave veterans such as you that the Rebel insurrection will be snuffed out for good.”
The major paused for a minute to unfurl a flag and wave it vigorously. “We’ll use this to lead us to victory!” he exclaimed.
When the 190th saw that Hartshorne was waving the old Bucktail regimental colors, they burst into a wild cheer. Culp and Jewett grinned sheepishly at one another, and battling mixed emotions, returned to their breakfast campfire.
It wasn’t until June 1st that Bucky and Jimmy joined a long column of wagons, prisoners, and discharged veterans to march down the Pamunkey and York Rivers toward White House Landing. As they trudged wearily along, Culp said, “I sure hope Sarah’s letters catch up ta me be-fore we leave Virginy. I’m dyin’ ta know how baby Fred’s doin’.”
“You’ll see for yourself soon enough,” smiled Jimmy. “You know, I haven’t heard from home in so long, I think my family’s disowned me.”
“After the brave things ya done, I’ll bet even yer pa can’t help but brag about ya at church.”
During the rest of their trek to White House Landing, Culp and Jewett helped guard the Reb prisoners. The march took an entire day, so it wasn’t until the following morning that Bucky and Jimmy finally boarded a ship to Washington. The ocean was choppy, and Culp spent much of his time heaving over the rail of the navy vessel, John Brookes. He had been having nightmares again, too. His head throbbed from lack of sleep and nervous excitement.
In the Union capital, the Pennsylvania Reserves boarded a train that took them to Baltimore and then on to Harrisburg where cheering crowds of grateful citizens greeted them at the station. There were parades, speeches by the governor, and a week’s wait in Harrisburg for Bucky and Jimmy to fidget through until officially mustered out at Camp Curtin on June 13th. When they finally stood as free men on the parade ground, Bucky stammered, “K-K-Kin you believe this is where we learned ta march by tyin’ hay to one boot an’ straw ta the other?”
“That was three long years ago,” grinned Jimmy, “before you knew your left from your right. I didn’t even know straw from hay, so I had an even tougher time with all this military stuff.”
With their final war pay stashed in their pockets, Culp and Jewett dashed to the train station to catch a ride south to Hagerstown, Maryland. The Pfaffs’ home was a mere ten miles from there. The lads jogged halfway down the Hagerstown Turnpike toward Sharpsburg before being picked up by a jovial farmer in a buckboard. The farmer wanted to know all about the war, and the returned veterans shared the details of their recent campaign until they reached their turnoff at the Williamsport Road.
After thanking the farmer for his kindness, the lads hit the highway running and sprinted all the way to the Smoketown Road They still wore their Bucktail blue and were carrying their Spencer rifles that had served them so well in the Wilderness. They stopped for a brief rest before again taking to their heels all the way to the Pfaff farm.
As soon as Bucky started up the farm lane, he knew something wasn’t right. The curtains were drawn in the front windows of the big white house and the barn doors closed on what should have been a perfect workday.
Exhausted from their long run, Culp and Jewett stumbled up the steps to the front stoop. Bucky worked the brass knocker until he heard halting footsteps echo from inside. After what seemed like forever, Fritz, minus his usual smile, creaked open the door.
“So you are home, Bucky,” said the German lad softly. “And Jimmy, too.”
“Are you going to make us stand out here in the heat all day?” panted Jewett, reaching to shake Fritz’s hand.
“Sorry. Vhere are my manners? Come in.”
“Is Sarah home?” blurted Bucky. “I run all the way from the turnpike. . .ta see her.”
“You better talk to Father. Ya.”
Bucky and Jimmy followed Fritz through the parlor, down a long hall, and into the kitchen where Mr. Pfaff sat at the table with his hands folded in front of him. A big bowl of untouched stew sat beside him along with two empty wine bottles. He didn’t rise to shake hands when the two soldiers entered the room. Instead, he ordered in his thick German accent, “Sit, Bucky. Sit. You, too, Jimmy. Fritz, get these lads a drink of vater. They look vorn out.”
“W-w-what’s wrong?” asked Bucky. “W-w-where’s Sarah?”
“Qvench your thirst first, son, and I vill tell you. You look vell. Bronze from the sun and all muscle from your marches. Vhen did they release you from duty?”
“Today, sir, an’ we come di-rectly here. Didn’t we, Jimmy?”
“We sure did, Mr. Pfaff. The back pay Bucky received should be plenty enough for him and Sarah to start their new house. Show him your wad of greenbacks!”
Bucky pulled the money out of his pocket and fanned it out in front of him on the table. Instead of his father-in-law pounding him joyfully on the back like Culp expected, the farmer began to sob and moan until his streaming tears soaked the front of his linsey-woolsey shirt. It took him many minutes to gain control of himself when Bucky again demanded, “Where’s Sarah?”
“Here, brother,” said Fritz, handing Culp a tumbler of water. “First, you drink this. Then, I vill take you to Sarah’s place. . .”
“Sarah’s place?” echoed Bucky. “Ya mean she don’t live here no more?”
“Yes, what’s going on?” queried Jewett, with an alarmed frown. “You folks are talking pure gibberish!”
“Here. Drink your vater, Master Jimmy. Ve vill tell you in good time.”
Mr. Pfaff produced a handkerchief and loudly blew his nose. After the two Bucktails had emptied their glasses, the farmer wobbled to his feet and said, “Follow me, lads. It’s time ve take you to Sarah.”
“I-i-is she in the hospital?” stuttered Bucky. “Is s-s-she?”
“Come along, son. Come along.”
Mr. Pfaff led Culp and Jewett out the kitchen door and down a path recently trod by many feet into the neighboring woodlot. Rounding a bend in the trail, they came to a plot of ground surrounded by a black iron fence. Inside, was a freshly dug grave beside an older one. When Bucky saw his wife’s name etched on the new tombstone, he collapsed to his knees and pitched headlong onto Sarah’s resting place. He lay utterly still for many minutes as the world spun around him and his dreams froze solid in his head. There were many words spoken to him, but none made any sense. He didn’t realize he was sobbing until Jimmy whispered close to his ear, “Get up, Bucky. W-w-we need to go. . .back inside.”
Culp allowed himself to be helped to his feet. He staggered toward the house between Fritz and Jimmy. He was angry, lost, and scared. He also felt cheated. He had gone off to war, in part, to forget his pa’s death. Now, he was faced with an even more devastating loss. He felt another wave of dizziness sweep over him, and he fought desperately to keep his feet. It was then that he heard a baby wail inside the kitchen.
Lurching numbly up the back steps, Bucky entered the door held open by his father-in-law to see Mrs. Pfaff cradling a tiny bundle in her arms. Bucky thought he was surely insane when he heard her say in perfect English, “Come over here and meet your son, Frederick Culp.”
Bucky stepped forward in a trance until he spied a tiny head overgrown with thick, black hair. The face could have been a miniature replica of his Sarah’s except for the prominent nose like his own. When he bent down to peer at the boy, Bucky swore a look of recognition passed from his son’s brown eyes.
“Ya, he’s a fine lad,” choked Mr. Pfaff, mopping sweat from his brow. “A lad to be proud of and to raise to a fine man. The fever took his mother still veak from childbirth. Ya, but you now have him. Ve vill help you vith little Frederick if you vant to stay.”
“Of course, he’ll stay!” assured Mrs. Pfaff. “Isn’t that right, Bucky?”
Bucky could only nod his assent as his mother-in-law placed the baby in his arms and gave him a warm, loving hug.