Pickett's Charge

By William Thomas Venner

Lieutenant Mitchell Shreve leads a platoon of Tennesseans as they escort a family across Pennsylvania to Gettysburg. Shreve, the son of a slave owner, meets Tess Webster, a staunch young abolitionist. The two must reconcile their differences as they travel towards that fateful town. Then, once the Webster family has been safely delivered to their home, Lieutenant Shreve joins in the momentous Confederate assault known as Picketts Charge.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 31, 2003
• ISBN: 9781410718051

William Thomas Venner

William Thomas Venner has researched and written widely about the American Civil War. He has written articles for America’s Civil War, and Civil War Times Illustrated, as well as having published eight books. Venner is both a student of history and prehistory and has earned Master’s Degrees in Southwest Archeology, and in American History. Venner believes that story telling, historical fiction, and living history are excellent ways to bring the past to life. He currently teaches history in Cincinnati. Pickett’s Charge is Venner’s second young adult historical fiction.

Book preview

Pickett’s Charge

By

William Thomas Venner

This book is a work of fiction. Places, events, and situations in this story are purely fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

©

2002, 2003 by William Thomas Venner. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the author.

ISBN: 1-4107-1805-0 (e-book)

ISBN: 978-1-4107-1805-1 (e-book)

ISBN: 1-4107-1806-9 (Paperback)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2003090945

1stBooks-rev. 5/14/03

Contents

Illustrations

Chapter 1: The time to attack!

Chapter 2: Escort the refugees

Chapter 3: Traveling with the Rebels

Chapter 4: Moving towards Gettysburg

Chapter 5: The young warrior

Chapter 6: Tess and Jasper

Chapter 7: The nightmare by the barn

Chapter 8: Gettysburg; the Captured Town

Chapter 9: Return to the regiment

Chapter 10: The Courthouse Hospital

Chapter 11: Gray Meets Blue

Chapter 12: The Attack Begins

Chapter 13: Disaster at the Angle

Chapter 14: Seeking Freedom

Author’s Notes

Bibliography

About the Author

Front cover photo courtesy of Ray M. Carson, Apprehension, from his book, The Civil War Soldier: The Photographic Journey. © 2000. www.raycarson.com

Back cover photo is a wet collodion negative on glass, courtesy of William Dunniway. www.collodion-artist.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Venner, William Thomas, 1950-

Pickett’s Charge / by William Thomas Venner

Summary: Lieutenant Mitchell Shreve leads a platoon of Tennesseans as they escort a family across Pennsylvania to Gettysburg. Shreve, the son of a slave owner, meets Tess Webster, a staunch young abolitionist. The two must reconcile their differences as they travel towards that fateful town. Then, once the Webster family has been safely delivered to their home, Lieutenant Shreve joins in the momentous Confederate assault known as Pickett’s Charge.

Also by William Thomas Venner

Swamp Hogs: The Civil War Journals of Johnny Brendel

Hoosiers’ Honor: The Iron Brigade’s 19th Indiana Regiment

Hoosier’s Honor Roster

Hoosiers’ Courage: The 19th Indiana Infantry at Gettysburg

Queen City Lady: The 1861 Journal of Amanda Wilson

The Lost Company: A Stones River Odyssey

Young Heroes of Gettysburg

Combat Engineer:

The World War II Experiences of William J. Venner

Pickett’s Charge is

dedicated to my son,

William Joshua Venner,

of whom I am very proud.

Illustrations

Pickett’s Charge includes a series of Civil War era photographs (Cartes de Viste). These images are of unknown individuals who had their photos taken during the early 1860s. The pictures are provided because we are a visual species and are happier when we have images to look at. Thus, the illustrations are furnished in order to give us a face to put with a name.

Image325.JPG

Tess Webster

Image332.JPG

Mitchell Shreve

Image341.JPG

Jimmy Huxley

Image349.JPG

Lizzie Webster

Image356.JPG

Robert Shreve

Image364.JPG

Will Cato

Image373.JPG

George Washington Bass

Image380.JPG

Jack Lane

Chapter 1

The time to attack!

Rise up, boys. Rise up!

Jimmy Huxley looked at Henry Tinsbloom in alarm. What’s going on? asked the fifteen-year-old.

Henry did not answer, but then Huxley knew that Tinsbloom seldom said much. Instead of speaking Henry just looked at Jimmy and then began to stand up.

Rise up, boys, rise up, commanded Sergeant Will Cato. He calmly walked along the line of Confederates and spoke quietly. It is time to earn your pay. Ole Bobby Lee, he’s got some work for us to do.

Jimmy Huxley scrambled to his feet and snatched at his accoutrements. We going to fight now? he asked.

Henry nodded solemnly.

Jimmy tossed the sling of his cartridge box over his shoulder and positioned the scuffed leather box on his right hip. He then wrapped a wide leather belt around his waist and fitted the fasteners together. The youth was surprised to find that his hands were shaking. This startled him and he looked about sheepishly, not wanting the fellows around him to know he was nervous. But the other soldiers ignored the boy as they went about the business of putting on their gear and getting ready for battle.

Sergeant Cato, called out Lieutenant Mitch Shreve, I want you to form the platoon.

Yes, sir, replied the sergeant. He turned to the clump of soldiers and placidly announced. Corporal, I want you right here, he pointed with a sunburned hand. The rest of you, form up on the corporal. Let’s move it now. We don’t want the lieutenant waiting on us do we?

Dress on me, called out Corporal Bobby Shreve. The lieutenant’s younger brother raised his left hand and waved the cigar he was holding.

One of the older soldiers pushed Jimmy forward and gently shoved him into the front rank. Well, Pup, you’re gonna’ get your wish. You’re gonna’ get to fight.

Well, it’s about time! barked Jimmy, trying to sound fierce and determined. His knees were quivering; he did not want them to know that he was frightened.

Once the Confederates had formed into a line composed of two ranks the lieutenant said, Alright boys, we will move forward and align ourselves with the company. Sergeant Cato, show the corporal where to go. Let’s do this quickly. Captain Norris doesn’t have time for us to dawdle.

The line began to move but Jimmy was slow to react. Someone pushed at the boy to get him started.

Move along there, Pup, said Sergeant Cato softly. Jimmy stumbled forward and then quickly caught up with the rest of the platoon. That’s the style Pup, we’ll turn you into a soldier in no time.

Jimmy found his position next to a short fellow and stood beside him. The soldier glanced at Jimmy and grinned. We’re going to go at ‘em, he announced.

I know, Jimmy growled. That’s why I joined up. I want to fight the Yankees.

Yep, the Pup is rip-roaring to take on the whole Yank army! teased the short fellow. He patted Jimmy on the shoulder and smiled. Well Pup, you are sure-as-rain gonna’ get your chance.

Company, attention! ordered the captain. The veteran Confederates stiffened their postures and ceased talking. Once Captain Archibald Norris was certain everyone was paying attention he said, Boys, we’ll form with the regiment in just a moment. Check your equipment. Make sure you have everything. I don’t know when we’ll be back here again, so don’t go and leave anything.

Jimmy stood in line with the other soldiers, gripping his musket. The youth had not fired the Enfield but he was not worried. He had fired his uncle’s Mexican War musket plenty of times. There was nothing to it—just drop the powder down the barrel and then push the bullet in afterwards. Jimmy glanced down at the weapon, feeling comfort in the knowledge that at least there was something that he knew.

Jimmy had learned little else about being a soldier. This was only his first week as a member of the company. It had been just been six days ago that he had been mucking out horse stalls in his uncle’s livery stable in Hagerstown, Maryland. That day had been unbearably hot and humid. The air within the livery stable simmered beneath a rusting tin roof. The establishment reeked from the fumes of fermenting horse manure, while the flies floated about in choking clouds, descending to bite Jimmy’s exposed skin.

Jimmy endured the heat, the never-ending stench, and the constant attacks from the hungry flies. He had shoveled tons of manure out of the stalls, loaded the muck into a wagon and driven out to a nearby farmer’s field. Here he unloaded the manure and returned to his uncle’s stable. And it seemed that by the time he got back all of the horses had defiled every one of the stalls again. Jimmy would then begin raking the fresh droppings into piles. The boy had cursed in frustration. Was this how he was going to spend the rest of his days? He could see little chance for change. After all, Jimmy had thought, there was no other choice. He had to help support his mother.

Jimmy’s mother, Mary Huxley had been a widow for a long time. Her husband had joined the army in 1848 and gone off to fight in the Mexican War. Darrel Huxley had kissed his wife good-bye, shouldered his pack and marched away. Huxley had not even looked back, and thus never heard his wife whisper that she was carrying their child. Jimmy’s father did not come back—his comrades buried his fever-ridden body in a shallow grave on a hillside in Mexico. And then Jimmy came into the world a few months later.

You’ll be okay, Pup, murmured Will Cato. The platoon sergeant patted Jimmy gently on the shoulder and spoke kindly, I know you’re feeling a little bewildered about things, and you oughta’, but it’ll be all right. All you have to do is watch the boys around you and do what they are doing. It ain’t hard to play follow-the-leader. Plus, if you get confused, I’ll be right here to straighten things out.

Jimmy glanced back at Will Cato and grinned. The boy was several inches taller than the soft-spoken sergeant and at first had thought the man a phony. But Jimmy quickly learned that the twenty-two-year-old sergeant was as tough as a keg of nails. Everyone in the company respected Cato. The short-statured man used logic and wisdom with the thinkers, and brawn and strength with the loafers; and even Captain Norris went to him for advice on how to run the company. It had not taken long for Jimmy to learn to listen when the sergeant spoke, and to remember everything he said.

Hey Pup, this is not quite like shoveling horse dung, is it? laughed a soldier standing behind Jimmy. Are you still certain about wanting to be with us? Maybe now you want to go home to your mother?

No, I came to fight, declared Jimmy as he looked back at George Washington Bass.

The dark-haired soldier smiled and spat out a wad of chewing tobacco. Then George began to sing, There’s life, though it throbbeth in silent veins, ‘tis vocal without noise. It gushed o’er Manassas’ solemn plains, from the blood of Maryland boys!

The soldiers in the company roared in approval and glanced at their comrade. Oh, but George Washington Bass could sing! At night while sitting around campfires, his songs could transport them home to Tennessee, and bring on rivers of homesick tears. Or while out marching on some hot and dusty road, George’s singing could ease the heat and fatigue and carry the entire company for miles at a time. And then, while standing in line of battle, Bass could conjure up some hymn that would ease their fears and steady their nerves. The boys might quietly chuckle about the tobacco stains that made a permanent patina on George’s uniform, but everyone respected and loved the magic of his songs.

Jimmy grinned at George, pleased that the huge farmer had created a few verses to honor him. The boy thought about his home in Maryland. His mother kept a small third-rate boarding house on the edge of Hagerstown and in it Jimmy had a bed in a windowless, closet-sized room. Jimmy remembered once asking his mother why he had to sleep in such a tiny room. All of the bedrooms are for the guests, Mary Huxley had said apologetically, Jimmy dear, you’ll have to stay where you are until we get back on our feet. And so it had gone, year after year—his mother in the boarding house and Jimmy cleaning horse stalls in his uncle’s livery stable. Though both worked from sunup to past sundown their combined incomes barely kept up with expenses.

The youth shrugged his shoulders. Jimmy hated the livery stable, and he disliked his Uncle who often became mean when he had too much to drink. As Jimmy grew older his frustration increased. He saw no end to the monotonous drudgery of mucking horse stalls and being bullied by his uncle. And then finally, when Jimmy thought he could take no more, the Confederates had marched into Hagerstown.

Jimmy had leaned his pitchfork against a water trough and strolled out of the stable. The youth stood and watched as the soldiers marched past. The Confederates strode along Hagerstown’s main street with long, easy strides. They talked quietly, amid a melody of tinkling gear and the noise of thousands of boots striking the ground.

The column of soldiers seemed endless, the troopers creating their own tunnel of dust, sound, and smell as they marched past. Jimmy marveled at the battle flags. The colors had been unfurled and these banners hung limply in the sweltering air. Jimmy gawked at the weather-beaten faces of the men. Some of the soldiers were old and had gray hair. Others were robust men sporting long hair and thick beards. And then, to his surprise, Jimmy noticed there were youths much the same age as he.

One such young soldier called out to Jimmy as he passed by, Hey city boy, what you doing there? Are you trying to be a telegraph post? The teaser’s friends all laughed, and then the soldiers went on past, making their way along the street. Jimmy followed them with his eyes, marveling at their freedom, and wondering where they were going. He stood motionless in front of the livery stable, staring at the long column of men.

Later the Confederates halted and the soldiers stood placidly in their ranks, talking quietly, wiping at their dust-caked sweaty faces, and sipped from their canteens. Jimmy watched as one of the fellows took out a cigar, lit it with a wooden match, and began to smoke. The Confederate noticed Jimmy looking at him and smiled. Hey there, he called out, what’s the name of this place? Jimmy recoiled in surprise and then stammered, Hagers-town.

Hagerstown, huh? Then we must still be in Maryland. Say, how far is it to Pennsylvania? Ten miles or so.

Ten miles or so? You’re not sure? I would have thought that you would had been to Pennsylvania lots of times, huh?

Jimmy shook his head in embarrassment. No, I never been there.

Never been to Pennsylvania and he only lives ten miles away. The soldier puffed on his cigar. Well that’s all right. I ain’t never been to Pennsylvania neither.

Hey Bobby, said one of the others, what you got there, a new recruit?

Don’t know.

Hey sonny, you gonna’ fall in with us and see Pennsylvania.

Hah! laughed another, that boy ain’t but a puppy. I bet he can’t even carry a musket.

I can too! shouted Jimmy, angry that these fellows would make fun of him. I shoot my uncle’s musket anytime I want, and I done it hundreds of times.

And can you hit anything with your uncle’s blunderbuss?’ That’s right mister. I can kill what I aim at! Well, there you have it, guffawed one of the Confederates. This pup knows all there is to know about being a soldier."

Yeah, another added, the pup sounds like a real fighter to me. Why he’s ah authentic Jim-dandy Yankee killer. The soldiers all laughed.

So, what do you think, there, Pup? You gonna’ fall in with us?

Jimmy shook his head in confusion. No one had paid this much attention to him in months. He had just gone about his business of shoveling manure, putting up with the heat and flies, and avoiding his drunken uncle. He started to step forward but then hesitated. He mother always needed the few dollars he earned to make ends meet. If he went with the soldiers she would suffer.

Pup, we’re moving out now, said the cigar-smoking trooper. You gonna’ come with us or not?

Tell him, Bobby, said another, that there’s great pay being in the ole Seventh Tennessee Infantry. The