By late April, General Grant had the entire Union Army poised to engage the Confederate forces on several fronts simultaneously. It was as if the General had drawn a large noose around the neck of the Confederacy and was about to begin drawing it close around its intended prey.
Grant had issued but one order to General Meade and the Army of the Potomac. “Where Lee goes, you go” Grant had said with a severe intensity in his eyes that told General Meade that failure to do so would have resulted in Meade’s immediate dismissal. Grant further indicated that, until further notice, his headquarters would remain in the field, with General Meade.
Grant also gave orders for General Sherman to begin his “march to the sea”. The Shenandoah Valley Campaign had been ordered, along with the Mississippi Valley engagements. The restructuring and details of Grant’s plans were now carefully laid, with the understanding that all commanders would initiate the strategy on or about the fifth of May.
In the early light of May fifth, the Union Army began its assault on the Confederacy. Meade advanced the Army of the Potomac toward General Lee in the wilderness, near Spotsylvania and Rappahannock.
The area, so dense with forest and underbrush, was virtually uninhabitable. General Grant, however, felt that the terrain, along with easy access to water transportation at the junction of the Rappahannock and the Rapidan, would be of valuable usefulness in supplying the Army as it advanced.
In Washington, the President was now spending almost all his time at the War Department. He remained in the communications room, resting on a small bed placed in one corner for his use.
Mister Lincoln insisted that he wanted first hand accounts of the advances of Grant’s army, and insisted on regular updates. Almost immediately, as the plans of Grant were implemented, the telegraph began to click away with reports.
For nearly ten days, the clicking of the key continued without rest. The operators were exhausted from the reports flowing in. The President was weary from lack of sleep. He had not left the War Department for these many days.
On May sixth, word arrived that General Lee had lost his most trusted friend and General, James Longstreet. Longstreet had been severely wounded, and was now taken out of action. His injuries had occurred near the place where General Jackson had been mortally wounded almost a year earlier.
May eleven reported that General Lee had now lost his most valuable Cavalry commander, General J.E.B. Stuart. General Stuart had been mortally wounded at Yellow Tavern, Virginia.
The Confederate Army of Northern Virginia under General Lee had begun to unravel, with the pressure Grant was applying. This was not, however, without cost to the Union Army.
On June first, Grant ordered the start of the Shenandoah Campaign and, with reinforcements, once again confronted General Lee. This time, General Grant would move against Lee at Cold Harbor, Virginia.
Following three days of fighting, Grant was forced to withdraw his Army, after suffering immeasurable losses. General Grant began the battle at the wilderness with nearly one hundred thousand soldiers. A month later, following battles in the Wilderness and Cold Harbor, nearly half had been wounded, killed, or captured in the fighting.
Reports were flowing in to the War Department regularly from both telegraph and newspaper. One reporter wrote that Cold Harbor represented a horrible failure on the part of the Federal generalship. Another wrote that the groans and moaning of the wounded and dying, all Union soldiers who were stranded between the lines, were heartrending.
Nearly seven thousand men lay dying or dead between the lines. Grant refused the request of his subordinate commanders to retrieve the wounded under a flag of truce. For three days, they lay waiting, crying, begging, pleading, and dying. After the fighting had ended, and the stretcher bearers entered the field, only two were found alive. The rest had died of their wounds, starvation, and dehydration.
I waited, along with the President and others at the War Department, for the reports. As they were read aloud to those gathered in the small office, I wept for the first time openly before the President and the Secretary of War.
“Elizabeth, I am sure Amos is fine”, Mister Lincoln said as he placed his arm around my shoulder.
I responded, “How can any man be fine, Mister President, after witnessing and engaging in such atrocity?”
I dried my eyes, put on my bonnet, gathered my writing materials, and left for home. That was the last time I visited the communications room of the War Department.
Arriving home, I freshened myself, packed a small bag with essentials, changed into my traveling clothes, and headed for Harrisonburg, Virginia. I wanted to see Ella and Old Sam once again, and escape the war for a few days.
The trip took nearly a week on horse back. Communications and rail lines had been disrupted once again. I regularly encountered both Confederate and Union pickets, often being detained while my official documents were examined.
Lodging was increasingly more difficult to find, as one army or the other was commandeering most of the resources of the civilian population. Many nights, I simply found a small resting place, and would sleep for a few hours before proceeding.
I arrived at the gate leading on to Miss Ella’s small farm. The gate had been torn from its hinges and lay, broken and splintered, on the ground. As I looked toward the house, all I could see was the stone fireplace and chimney standing where the house had once stood. The barn was gone, as well.
In horror, I rode at full gallop toward the remains, certain that I would find Ella and Sam standing nearby. As I came to the front, where the porch once stood, I realized they were gone.
Two mounds of dirt and gravel with small markers were placed near the front of the small cabin. They read, “Here lies the woman” and the other “And her slave”. Who ever did this did not even know their names. I sat on my horse and wept bitterly for some time.
The cabin and barn had been reduced to burnt rubble. The garden, once so neatly cared for and arranged so that it produced the finest herbs and vegetables for Ella’s remedies, now laid bare and stripped. No other signs of life remained. What could be taken was, and the remainder destroyed.
I took out my writing materials and fixed the markers.
I wrote, “Here lies Miss Ella, Friend, Healer, Saint of God”.
For Sam, I wrote, “Here lies Mister Sam, Faithful Servant and Friend, a Freeman, belonging only to God”.
I packed up my belongings and mounted my horse. I began a slow ride to Harrisonburg, with the hope of finding lodging and, possibly, someone who knew what had happened to Ella and Sam.
Just outside Harrisonburg, I came across an old tavern I had lodged at previously. I went in and found accommodations for the night.
The room was poorly furnished, and most of the pieces of furniture and decorating had been removed. The bed was worn out, and the coverings and linens were thread bare. Only one small, straight back chair and one small candle remained. The wash bowl was cracked and dirty.
I unpacked my personal belongings. I had brought a few items for Ella, along with some federal money for her, in case she would have need. I looked at the few items, and wept for her and Sam.
How could any Army be so inhumane as to treat civilians in this manner, if, indeed, it was the army? I was daily growing weary of the inhumanity of this war, and had contemplated leaving, as Caroline had, joining Sarah in Philadelphia.
I refused, however, to give in to the temptation, and would continue with my work until the completion of hostilities. I prayed at that moment for Amos, who was still with General Meade, somewhere in Virginia.
“God”, I prayed, “bring Amos home safely to us.”
I refreshed my face, and went down for the evening meal. The Inn keeper apologized for the lack of a good dinner. All he could offer this night was bean soup and corn bread. There was no coffee to be had anywhere in the south now.
I assured him that the soup would be sufficient and then handed him a small bag of coffee I had brought with me for Ella and Sam, from home.
“Lordy, Miss, where on earth did you get this?” the Inn keeper asked.
“It is probably best that you not ask”, I suggested.
“Quite right, Miss”, he responded. “If the Yankees come and see it, they will just take it. But if the Rebs come, they will accuse me of spying. I’ll just say I got it from some Yankee woman that come through and used it for a night’s lodging.”
“I agree. You can always tell that story”, I said.
Following the meal, I asked the Inn keeper if he would sit with me for a few moments, as I had some questions to ask. He agreed, but suggested that we not talk too loudly as there were always other ears listening in.
I asked him about Ella and Sam, if he knew them, and what had happened at their farm.
“Yes, Miss, I knew them both”, he stated with some sadness in his voice. “They were fine people. Miss Ella, the old witch, had freed Sam some years back. Old Sam had remained on with her and got along well.”
“I went out to see them today, and found their graves and the farm burned out”, I stated.
“Yes, terrible business, this war”, he started. “Yankee cavalry came through about a week ago. They were boasting that they would take anything they wanted and burn the rest. They pretty much cleaned me out as well, but left the Inn stand, saying they would be back and would not burn me out if I had some more Rum for them when they returned.”
“What about Ella and Sam?” I pressed.
“Well, one of the soldier boys was bragging how they came upon a farm outside of town”, the Inn keeper continued. “He said that when they rode up, this old nigger was chopping wood and some old crone came out of the house with a shotgun, threatening to shoot the first one who got off his horse and tried to come in.
“The soldier boy said that one of the men started to step down, when Ella pulled the trigger on her shotgun and injured the soldier. That was when the soldiers opened fire on both Ella and Sam and killed them on the spot. They took what they wanted and burned the rest.”
After the Inn keeper finished, we sat together quietly for some time, nursing the coffee that he had prepared for us. I took his hand in mine and looked into his face. With tears flowing down my cheek, I simply said, “Thank you”.
The next day, I packed my belongings and prepared to make the journey home. I left the money I had for Ella with the Inn keeper, along with a few other items. He insisted that it was too much and not necessary.
I assured him it was my pleasure to leave the items with him, reminding him that not all Yankees were as cruel as the men in blue he had recently encountered. We parted with the promise that, should I travel this way again, I would always have a room at his Inn, providing of course, the Yankees did not burn it down first.
The early morning sun was already warming the earth, and I could tell it was going to be a hot day. I decided to travel back through Winchester, as I had heard other travelers at the Inn the previous night state that Winchester was now back in Union hands.