For Honor and Love

By LeRoy A. Miltner

Evenwood, a luxurious estate near Philadelphia, becomes the focal point around which the adventures, loves and fortunes of three young men revolve. There, Morris Halstead becomes the builder of a fabric and clothing empire and employs his wealth to create the area's most admired gardens. There, German immigrant Caspar Ritter works with his uncle to create Evenwood Gardens and is lovingly drawn into the family circle and business. And from there Rolf von Nida, the arrogant and headstrong son of German nobility, finds forgiveness and redemption from a long neglected friend.
Set between 1860 and 1950, this sweeping novel's characters experience the horrors of war, the great depression, and the rise of the Nazi party in Germany. Each, in his own way, struggles to right past wrongs, to repay great kindnesses, or to satisfy an inner longing to prove himself worthy. Each lives his life boldly, for honor and love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 15, 2013
• ISBN: 9781491822890

LeRoy A. Miltner

Roy Miltner’s interest in art began in the early years of his education. It was rekindled in later years as he became a volunteer at an art museum and began collecting art for his own pleasure. He and his wife have traveled widely, visiting art museums in France, the Netherlands, and Italy, as well as in New York, Philadelphia, and Chicago. He is the author of two previously published historical novels: “Night Songs”, dealing with a young woman’s struggles in German-occupied Paris; and “For Honor and Love”, about three young men whose lives are intertwined in love and war. He and his wife live in Pueblo, Co.

Book preview

FOR HONOR

AND LOVE

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LeRoy A. Miltner

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AuthorHouse™ LLC

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2013 by LeRoy A. Miltner. All rights reserved.

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

Published by AuthorHouse 11/12/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4918-2290-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-2289-0 (e)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

PART ONE

THE HALSTEADS

CHAPTER ONE:   PHILADELPHIA

CHAPTER TWO:   IN THE VALLEY AND BEYOND

CHAPTER THREE:   FORT LARAMIE, 1878

CHAPTER FOUR:   JOURNEY HOME

CHAPTER FIVE:   PHOENIX RISING, 1893

PART TWO

THE RITTERS

CHAPTER SIX:   GERMANY, 1902

PART THREE

THE VON NIDAS

CHAPTER SEVEN:   AFRICA

CHAPTER EIGHT:   ROLF

PART FOUR

LIVES INTERTWINED—FOREVER

CHAPTER NINE:   AMERICA

CHAPTER TEN:   EVENWOOD

CHAPTER ELEVEN:   PAYMENT DUE

CHAPTER TWELVE:   INVITATION

Chapter Thirteen:   PREPARATIONS

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:   CASPAR

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:   ROLF, 1914

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:   ROLF IN FRANCE

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:   TREASURE

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:   TRAGEDY

CHAPTER NINETEEN:   CONVERSION

CHAPTER TWENTY:   DECISIONS

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE:   ROLF

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO:   IMKE

EPILOGUE

For my grandchildren, Aidan and Vivian Miltner; avid readers and dedicated athletes. Wherever they are, love will be found.

And with sincere thanks to Nancy McClimen, Dan Miltner, and Klaus Sunder, without whose help I could not have done it right.

SOME MEN ARE BORN TO GREATNESS

SOME ACHIEVE GREATNESS

SOME HAVE GREATNESS THRUST UPON THEM

William Shakespeare

PART ONE

THE HALSTEADS

CHAPTER ONE

PHILADELPHIA

F ranklin Halstead was a contented man. As he gazed across the green pastures that spread out below his veranda, he thought the valley had never looked so rich and fertile. It was 1860, and his years in America had been generous to him. Born thirty-five years before in Northern Ireland, he had emigrated with his family while in his late teens. His father, Henry, had sold a languishing textile business near Belfast and set up shop near Philadelphia, then the second largest city in the United States. Able to purchase the newest weaving machines with his capital, Henry was soon producing cloth of a quality surpassing any then available in the area.

Franklin had nearly completed his university education before leaving Ireland, and he was able to enroll in the Wharton School, part of the University of Pennsylvania, once his family was settled in their new home. Following the completion of these studies he’d entered his father’s business as a partner. Shortly thereafter he’d married Anne Portland, whom he’d met six months before at a church social. In the thirteen years since, he’d proved to be an energetic and resourceful businessman, expanding the business, finding new markets, and increasing the size of the workforce. He was known throughout the Philadelphia area as a friendly, trustworthy man.

Ben Calder, a classmate at the university, had joined the U.S. Army upon graduation and risen in rank to become quartermaster of the Philadelphia Army Depot. Franklin had used their friendship, along with a guarantee that his firm could produce the finest clothing at the lowest cost, to win a contract to make 10,000 uniforms for the Army. Employing his own workforce to cut and sew the clothing saved a substantial amount of money and enabled the firm to profit handsomely. His generous income and profitable investments had provided him with the funds to purchase a sprawling horse farm on the outskirts of Philadelphia, which he named Evenwood.

Franklin watched now as his son came riding across the field on their newest horse, a fine young thoroughbred added to their stable a few months before. The Halsteads had two children—Morris, thirteen, and Melissa, nine. Mel—as her family and friends called her—was a polite and endearing child, much taking after her mother. She loved to sketch and to read novels by the Bronte sisters. On one occasion she lettered a sign and posted it just inside the front entrance to their home. It read, Love will always be here. It proved to be an omen for the Halstead family for generations to come.

Morris was the horse lover, although the whole family rode well. Morris had encouraged his father to purchase the horse he was riding after a visit to a breeder in Maryland. He loved to ride fast and felt great pleasure outracing boys much older than he. A good judge of a horse’s ability, he was certain this one, which he named Flash, would become a champion racer.

This will be your birthday present for the next five years, his father said jokingly. Morris had laughed and said, When he wins a lot of money, Father, I’ll pay you back.

And Flash did win a great deal of money—first at county fairs, and then from private wagers with other gentry on surrounding farms. Franklin had several offers from buyers interested in training Flash to be a professional racer, but always responded that the horse was part of the family.

That winter was particularly harsh, and Philadelphians longed for spring—no one more so than Morris, for his father had promised to allow him to enter an important race the next summer. Spring came in early April, the snows melting quickly under sun-filled days and warm southerly breezes. The valley was filled with color as flowering trees and shrubs put on a spectacular show. The long-stabled horses now eagerly ran through the fields and ate the sweet grasses. It was a beautiful world. And then it collapsed into chaos.

April 12, 1861. Fort Sumter, a U.S. military post in Charleston, South Carolina, was attacked by forces of the newly constituted Confederate States of America. Three days later President Abraham Lincoln issued a call for troops to put down the rebellion. A week later U.S. naval forces established a blockade of all Southern ports. A war between the states, a civil war, had broken out, with tremendous ramifications for all Americans, especially those in business.

Franklin’s firm was soon overwhelmed with calls for uniforms, not only from his old friend Ben Calder, but from volunteer regiments springing up all across Pennsylvania. Morris, now fourteen, worked at the factory every day after school. Henry, who had recently retired, and even Melissa and Anne assisted with orders and fabric selection. Franklin worried greatly about his cotton supply, now that his sources in the South were cut off. He was concerned, too, that the men rushing to volunteer for military service would deplete his workforce, which he now needed to rapidly expand. On the positive side, the family’s income doubled and tripled quickly. Although payments from the Army were usually months behind, Franklin insisted on cash on the barrel-head from the smaller volunteer contingents. Because many of these groups were being raised and provisioned by colonels who led their own units, he took no chances that they would be killed in battle and leave him without payment.

The tides of war ebbed and flowed over the next three years. Business continued to be brisk, and much of Franklin’s production was in woolen fabrics, so his sources of raw materials were no longer threatened. Morris finished his required schooling and joined his father as a full-time employee, postponing the start of college until the end of the rebellion. His life, like everyone’s, changed radically. He had very little time to spend at the stables, and he worried that Flash wasn’t being ridden enough. During the year just passed, there had been only a handful of races in the county. Although Flash had won them handily, Morris felt the horse wasn’t being challenged as before.

Kenneth Lewes, a Baltimore breeder who kept a close eye on the local equestrian talent, had other thoughts about Flash. Having seen the horse run since he was a two-year-old, he was absolutely certain that with the right breeding Flash could produce powerful offspring and bring in a fortune in stud fees. Lewes knew, however, that the Halsteads were not hurting for money and that if they ever agreed to sell the animal, the price would be high. He knew also that Morris had a love affair with Flash. That was driven home with certainty when he’d once broached the subject of a sale and Morris had told him in passionate terms that the family would never sell the horse. And Lewes knew better than to press against sentiment.

Morris could hardly avoid being caught up in the patriotic fervor sweeping the nation. Young men his age were volunteering for military service in droves. On more than one occasion he’d raised the question of his own enlistment, knowing full well what Franklin’s response would be. He understood his father’s reluctance to let him go, both for the sake of his safety and for the pressing demands the business was making on both of them. Melissa and his mother, meanwhile, spent hours each week visiting the wounded in Philadelphia’s several military hospitals. This left Morris feeling as though he wasn’t contributing enough to the war effort.

Then one Sunday evening as the family prepared to ride home after a vespers service at their church, Morris realized he had left his scarf there. He had ridden Flash, so he told his parents to go on and he would catch up with them later. As he entered the half-darkened nave of the church, he heard the voices of a small group of young people standing in an alcove. He recognized one of the voices as that of Lucille Bronson, a girl his age. The conversation stopped when the assemblage became aware of Morris’ presence.

Hey, Lucille, what’s happening? Morris asked.

Oh, hello Morris. We’re, uh, she paused, and the young man beside her continued.

To be honest, Morris, we were talking about you. We’re students at the university and friends of Lucille. I’m Christopher Sterling, and this is Arthur Smythe. Morris shook hands with the two young men.

We were wondering, Sterling went on, what your feelings are about slavery and the abolition movement. Father Gilmore has preached about the subject frequently. Would you care to share your views with us?

Well, sure, I suppose. But why do you care what I think? Morris said.

Lucille answered, We want to know what others our age think about it, to see if there is general agreement.

Well, I don’t like slavery at all, and I believe it morally wrong to hold persons as property, regardless of their color or background. I didn’t think about it much when my father’s company bought cotton from Southern planters, because everyone took it for granted. But the war, President Lincoln’s proclamations, and my own sense of right and wrong lead me to abhor the institution of slavery. I don’t know if that fits your definition of general agreement or not, but it’s my view.

The two other young men each put an arm on Morris’ shoulder.

Wonderfully spoken! Arthur exclaimed. Our views exactly. And now, if you are truly sincere, how would you like to do something about it?

If you mean join the Army, I’m afraid that’s out. My father won’t allow it.

No, no. Something more personal, Christopher offered. How would you like to help runaway slaves?

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The Halsteads were accustomed to having visits from military officers at their business, both to let contracts and to inspect merchandise. Franklin was not surprised, then, when his old friend Ben Calder sent a message asking for a meeting at the factory the following afternoon. Franklin sent a messenger suggesting four o’clock.

The next day, Calder, now a full colonel, arrived with two other Army officers and was shown into Franklin’s private office. He introduced his companions. Franklin, this is Colonel Charles Aubrey, my superior, from Army headquarters. Aubrey was a corpulent fellow with the pale skin of someone whose career had been spent behind a desk. He had rheumy eyes and a moist handshake.

The other man was introduced simply as Major Eric Brunell. Franklin saw immediately that he was a field officer. His uniform was clean but faded and, like his darkly tanned face, bore witness to hours in the sun and wind. He wore the crossed swords of a cavalry officer on his collar. His handshake was firm.

The visitors took seats but turned down the offer of a beverage in the interest of time. Although Franklin had not mentioned alcohol, that was probably taken for granted in his offer, and he saw Aubrey lick his lips when Calder declined. Calder began the conversation. Franklin, you have done well these past few years. Some would say handsomely well. And you deserve it. Your products are first-rate and we have had no complaints from the field. Unlike some suppliers, you have not tried to gouge us with rising prices. He paused to let the other two men add their assent.

I know there must be a ‘but’ coming next, Franklin lightly enjoined.

No, not at all, Calder replied. I’ll let Aubrey explain the purpose of our visit.

Aubrey cleared his throat and leaned forward. Mr. Halstead, what we have to say here is of a most sensitive nature. May we agree that what is spoken among us and whatever results from our conversation will be held in the strictest confidence?

Agreed fully, Franklin answered, his curiosity deepening.

Aubrey continued. As you know, our forces, while victorious on many fields of battle, have also suffered numerous, shall we say, setbacks. Our troops in the Shenandoah Valley, in particular, have been plagued by bands of raiders. These attackers act like innocent civilians during the week and raise hell on weekends. They never stand and fight, only ambush wagon trains, blow up bridges, and destroy roads behind our lines. They are more like a band of thieves and outlaws than soldiers. And we need something to counteract them. We need good intelligence.

I’ve heard of them. Aren’t they referred to as guerrillas? Franklin asked.

Right, Aubrey said. Some of them are fairly disciplined troops, like Mosby’s Raiders, but most are vicious cutthroats taking advantage of the war to line their own pockets.

This is all very interesting, but what has it to do with me? Franklin inquired.

Calder and Aubrey turned to Major Brunell and nodded. Brunell started slowly. As you may know, General Grant has recently named General Phil Sheridan to command all our forces in the Shenandoah Valley. It’s a tricky business, especially with the renegades we just spoke of operating there. What Sheridan has proposed, informally, is that we equip a special unit of cavalry scouts for special assignments. They will be men trained in communications, intelligence, and counterespionage. General Sheridan believes such a group can provide vital information regarding enemy numbers, troop movements, and the location of some of these raiders. He intends to recruit them from the 17th Pennsylvania Volunteer Regiment. What he needs from you, first, are uniforms—about one hundred. But because this is a highly secretive operation, we need them to be donated so there will be no record of the Army having procured them. And that is why we have come to you.

I see, Franklin responded, slowly shaking his head as he quickly assessed the cost. Well, I think that can be done. Yes, I would agree to that. I can have them ready to ship or be picked up in a few days.

I’m afraid we haven’t been entirely clear on this, Brunell added. I don’t believe you have these uniforms on hand. You see, what we want you to provide us with are Confederate uniforms.

Franklin’s hands flew to his mouth. These men, then, will be spies. What if they are caught? Won’t they be killed immediately?

In all likelihood they will, and they will know that beforehand, Brunell said. As I’ve stated, these men will be volunteers and will know the dangers they face when recruited. It’s risky and it, shall we say, flirts with the boundaries of Army regulations. And that is precisely why we have come to you. But be assured, if you agree, your name will in no way be attached to this equipment.

I see, Franklin said, amazed that he was being caught up in this intrigue. I suppose it can still be done, but it will take a bit longer, of course. You said what you first needed were uniforms. What else do you have in mind?

Aubrey joined the conversation. To be frank, in order to pull this off, we need you to provision the entire unit—uniforms, equipment, muskets, the whole shebang.

Franklin jumped to his feet and exclaimed, My God, do you know what you are asking? You’re speaking of an enormous outlay of money. Of course business has been good, but… I must have time to think about this. When do you need my answer?

Time is of the essence, Brunell replied. We—that is, Sheridan, needs these troops right away, and even if you agreed today… .

Yes, yes, I see your point. I assume you men will be in town overnight. Come back here at eight o’clock tomorrow morning and you will have my answer.

The three officers rose and each offered Franklin his hand. As they were about to leave, Calder handed Franklin an envelope. Please read this before you come to a decision, he said. It may help your deliberation.

When the men had gone, Franklin returned to his desk and opened the envelope. The light of day was fading, so he lit a desk lamp and began to read. The letter was written in longhand on plain paper:

My Dear Mr. Halstead:

Colonel Calder has informed me of your faithful service to the armies of your country and of your devotion to our cause. He has known you as a friend for many years and testifies to your generous and reliable character. For that reason, he offered me your name for the undertaking, which by now, has been made known to you. Whatever you were told about the importance of this endeavor, let me add my assurance that it is utterly vital to the prosecution and success of our mission in this region. I beg you most urgently to assent to our request. Your nation will be in your debt.

Your obedient servant,

P. H. Sheridan

Franklin knew the decision to spend the tremendous cost of provisioning one hundred men for this mission was one he could not make alone. Morris, for certain, yes, and even Melissa and Anne should be involved, for it meant digging deeply into the family’s savings. He spent the next two hours examining company ledgers and scanning supply catalogs from various outfitters. He was alarmed at how much costs had risen for some of the items he used to purchase regularly for his own stables. Obviously, not every manufacturer was limiting prices in the national interest.

He gathered up a few ledgers and the letter from General Sheridan and left immediately for home. It was pitch-black now, and he could feel the dampness of a coming storm in the air. Fortunately, the whole family was there when he arrived home, even Morris, who had been spending an unusual number of evenings attending meetings at the church. Franklin suspected there was a girl involved, but had asked nothing about it. At Franklin’s request, the family assembled in the library, curious as to his serious demeanor. It was Morris who asked, Father, is something wrong at the factory?

Not something wrong, Franklin replied, but what I want to speak to you about does concern the factory, our business, and, if I am not being overly dramatic, our life as a family. He then outlined what the Army was asking and shared the letter from Sheridan.

The family’s first response was shocked silence. Anne then said, Franklin, three questions come to mind for me. One, is it morally right to do this, to have this kind of… soldiers? Two, if it is right, do you want to do it? And three, can we afford it?

Before Franklin could reply, Morris spoke. Father, if I may, will you allow me to speak to the moral issue? Puzzled, his father nodded his assent.

Morris went on. For several months now, I have been attending meetings at our church. You know that and probably thought it a subterfuge for meeting a sweetheart; I overheard Melissa suggesting as much to one of her friends. Well, the meetings have been at church, but they have been in secret. I have joined a small group of people, both young and old, deeply concerned over the plight of slaves who have run away from their masters. They come north seeking freedom, and those who provide them with food and shelter risk their lives for them. The project is called the Underground Railroad, and we help the slaves who have made it this far.

Anne exclaimed, Morris, I wish you had told us about this before! I think it is very brave and loving for you to be doing this work. But isn’t it dangerous for you and your friends?

Not for us, Mother. But the runaways still have to remain hidden from bounty hunters who try to return them to their owners. The reason I am bringing this up now is to answer your question about the morality of what General Sheridan has asked us to do. I believe there is nothing more immoral than human slavery. If only you could see some of those poor souls, your heart would go out to them. I think anything we can do to end this rebellion and free all the slaves in the South is a just cause.

Franklin, amazed at his son’s passion and proud of his stand, agreed fully. Melissa also gave her assent. On the second point, Franklin said, what Ben Calder said is true. Our family has profited handsomely from this war, even though we work hard at our business. I believe we owe it to the Union to support this mission. Do any of you feel otherwise? When no one dissented, Franklin went on. As to being able to afford it, it will be a close call. He laid out his estimate of costs for each soldier, then multiplied that figure by one hundred. The total astounded his family. They all sat quietly for a few moments. Now that we know what we are facing, do you still want to proceed? Franklin inquired.

It scares the life out of me, Anne said. I know we have money in savings, but I worry about the children’s education and the business slowdown that is inevitable once the war is over.

There was more silence. Thunder rolled across the darkened sky and rain began to patter on the windows. Morris walked to a window to peer out at the increasing downpour. He thought of the young men his age far from home having to endure nights like this, along with all the terrors and dangers of battle. Here he was, with his family, in the warmth and safety of his home while others sacrificed their youth and their lives for their country. A chill of shame swept across him. Lightning split the sky and illumined the stables some hundred yards distant. Then a solution came to him. He turned quickly. Father, we can do it. I know a way. We’ll sell Flash. Mr. Lewes has been dying to get his hands on him and I know he will pay almost anything for the chance.

Melissa gasped. Morrie, you wouldn’t. Flash means everything to you—to us all. She began to cry.

Franklin said, Morris, that’s a very generous thing to offer, but…

Wait Father, Morris broke in. It may seem generous. Yes, I suppose it is. But what have I done in this war beyond donating a small sum of money to help slaves? I see this as a way to really help, to really aid the Union cause. Besides, when I go off to college, I won’t have much time to spend with Flash anyway, and I know Mr. Lewes will give him the very best care and training. I truly want to do this, to bring honor to our family.

The four of them came together and joined in a warm embrace. Franklin closed his eyes and prayed, Oh God, please let this be the right and proper thing to do. They all said amen.

The next day, at 8:05 A.M., the Halstead family became coconspirators in a plan to defeat the Confederate Army on its own soil and to speed the end of the rebellion.

CHAPTER TWO

IN THE VALLEY AND BEYOND

FEBRUARY 1865

"I ’m gettin’ damn tired of this soljerin, said one of the group of raggedly dressed men sitting around the fire. Hell, this piece of rotten mule is the first taste of anythin’ resemblin’ meat that we’ve had for a month." Those nearby grunted their agreement and went on chewing.

How’s them boots feel, Jake? asked a voice from the semidarkness.

They’s makin’ my feet a little sore, but not half as sore as the Yankee’s feet I took ’em from.

The men all laughed. They were in winter quarters now, the Confederate Army under General Jubal Early, as was the Union Army commanded by General Phil Sheridan, resting and awaiting the end of the snow and sleet. The two antagonists had been slugging it out for nearly six months in the valley, as the Shenandoah Valley was referred to during the war.

Phil Sheridan had taken a newly formed Union Army into the valley in August 1864. Prior to that, the bulk of the fighting in the East had been in Maryland and northern Virginia. The Shenandoah Valley, a narrow stretch of fertile farmland between the Blue Ridge Mountains to the east and the Alleghenies to the west, had been the main source of food and provisions for Confederate forces.

The valley’s peaceful nature had ended when General Sheridan arrived with orders to strip it bare and to put himself south of the enemy and follow him to the death. He began his invasion with 5,000 cavalry and some 30,000 infantry. His orders to his officers were simple: destroy crops and burn barns. Peaceful farmers were to be left only enough to feed their families through the winter. Mills were to be demolished, livestock confiscated, mules and horses placed into service. Such instructions were abhorrent to many soldiers, both out of sympathy for the civilians—many of whom were Dunkers, Mennonites and Quakers—and also because they saw themselves as soldiers, not raiders.

Robert E. Lee, with his army to the east of the valley, had learned of Sheridan’s invasion and quickly sent General Early to stop the depredation. Clashes were frequent, but in contrast to earlier campaigns, Union forces were clearly gaining the upper hand. They had better leadership now, and morale was high once they faced the enemy. In October, at Cedar Creek, Sheridan’s keen strategy and speedy maneuvers had turned a seeming rebel victory into defeat. Facing a strong Confederate advance, he’d rallied his men by personally riding up and down the lines, urging them on. A strong counterattack won the day, netted him thousands of prisoners, twenty-five cannons, and scores of supply wagons. Sheridan himself was better prepared to fight now, for he had eyes and ears not available before in the person of scouts and special forces operating behind enemy lines. The reports and information they provided were invaluable.

In the Confederate camp, the fire blazed as someone threw on a few more pieces of wood. The flames illumined the face of Private Aaron Bissell, whose companions believed he was from near Richmond and that he had transferred to Early’s corps when his own unit had been shot up. Bissell had been listening carefully to the men’s talk, the rumors flowing through the camps, and whatever bits of conversation he could catch while close to the officers’ tents. His walks through the camps also gave him an impression of the condition and morale of the troops, the extent of their supplies, and overall numbers of men and artillery.

All these he needed, because Private Bissell was, in reality, Harvey Steigerwaldt of Lebanon, Pennsylvania, one of Sheridan’s infamous spies. Formerly a member of the 17th Pennsylvania Volunteers, he’d stepped forward when Sheridan had put together his special unit and undergone training in espionage activities. Wearing one of Franklin Halstead’s Confederate uniforms, he had slipped into Early’s lines a month earlier after a battle in which men were being transferred from other sectors to bolster the general’s forces in the valley. One of the men around the campfire said, Wonder what’s happenin’ over Richmond way? Bissell, you got any letters or anythin’?

Naw, my folks ain’t the writin’ kind, Bissell replied. "Them boys likely as