And the Walls Came Tumbling Down

By Tom Morrison

The Civil War is in its early stages when Joshua Stone leaves his home in rural North Carolina to help protect his family and to seek adventure. Joshua is taken to a training camp where he learns to soldier and becomes close to five other recruits who are his tent mates. He experiences war first hand at the battle of Fredericksburg. There he kills three enemy soldiers. He then begins to question the rightness of taking another life. One dark night, at the battle of Chancellorsville, he shoots a shadowy figure who turns out to be his own general Stonewall Jackson. From this point forward he can no longer shoot at another man. His group of buddies dwindles to three. And now he is running across the fields at Gettysburg as a part of Picketts charge. His two remaining companions are killed and he leaves something on the battlefield that will tie him to Stonewall Jackson for the rest of his life.

The story explores the issues of the justified killing of another human being, the treatment of negroes and the effects of war on soldiers both physically and mentally.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 25, 2012
• ISBN: 9781479720576

Tom Morrison

Entrepreneur and antiquarian, over-schooled and under-educated, polyglot, grammatically challenged in four languages, pedant in one. At the barricades since birth in a St. Louis Catholic orphanage. Schools, war enlistee, universities. Uncultivated amateur expatriate in France, Austria, Germany and Spain with an extended coda in Malibu. Self-indulgent. Only ambition...writing, making money in the shortest time possible, and causing no pain in the parade. Loves Vermeer. France. Flaubert. Ibiza. Heller. Collects 18th and 19th century Ninos Jesus, same periods polychrome wood sculpture of Saints, and antique Yoruba Ibejis. P.S. Aims to delete modifiers attached to innocent nouns or verbs. Friend of Fowler. A challenge to be funny on a verbal diet.

Book preview

AND THE WALLS CAME

TUMBLING DOWN

Tom Morrison

Copyright © 2012 by Tom Morrison.

ISBN:          Softcover                                 978-1-4797-2056-9

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4797-2057-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Rev. date: 04/23/2013

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Contents

DEDICATION

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

AUTHOR BIO:

DEDICATION

The following persons have had a part in the start and completion of this book. It started with a remark made by Walter Eckert a middle school history teacher at Pioneer Middle School in Cooper City, Florida. He is a true Ironman. My children and grandchildren were my first perceived audience. The support and guidance of my wife and the help of my lifelong friend Dolph LeMoult brought it to a conclusion. Special thanks to my daughter Kathleen for her powers of resurrection and persistence and my daughter Juliet for her self sacrifice and technical guidance. Without all of you it never would have happened.

Thanks.

CHAPTER ONE

My name is Joshua Stone. I killed three men. I used to shoot squirrels. My mother would cook the squirrels in a big pot with vegetables to make a stew. It was really good. The three men were attacking up a hill near Fredericksburg in Virginia. They were Yankee soldiers. And then one night I shot Stonewall Jackson. My friend Jack told me it wasn’t my fault but I aimed the gun and I pulled the trigger. It surely wasn’t the gun’s fault.

I was born on May 10, 1844 in the town of Hendersonville, North Carolina to John and Mary Stone. I have two younger sisters, Tiffany and Jessica. When the army recruiter came to our town to try to get men to join the Army of Northern Virginia, I asked my father if I could go. I was only seventeen but I was big for my age and I had finished my schooling. The war hadn’t touched us directly but we had heard about the destruction of towns and farms, and some local men had come back wounded, full of stories about the fighting and the need to preserve our way of life. The talk was of a threat by the North to attack the town of Fredericksburg in Virginia and to then try to move on to the Confederate capitol in Richmond. Soldiers were needed and a bonus of $200.00 would be paid to any man who would sign up. The pay was $20.00 a month and enlistees would be issued a uniform and some field equipment and trained in marching and fighting for four weeks before being sent into battle. They were asked to bring their own musket if they had one since guns were in short supply, but if they didn’t have one, one would be provided. I was happy to bring my own; I was accustomed to it, and was a pretty good shot. I could pick off a squirrel at forty yards almost every time. I made my own musket balls out of lead, and was careful to polish them as smooth as I could so they would go straight. If they weren’t round and smooth they would jump around in the air and the chance of hitting a small target like a squirrel or a bird was not good. Of course a larger target was easier to hit.

My father and I talked about the chance I could get hurt or even killed, but all I could think of was adventure and the chance to see more than the town where I had spent my first 17 years. Eventually he agreed to let me go. The enlistment time was for nine months; I would be back next summer. After I signed the papers I gave my father most of my sign-up money. He made me keep ten dollars for myself in case I needed to buy something.

There were four of us who climbed into the back of the recruiter’s wagon and proceeded from Hendersonville on our way to training camp. I watched my father standing in front of the general store as he receded in the distance. My mother had made me take enough dried beef and fruit for two days and I also had a half loaf of bread and a jug of water. The training camp was in Charlotte, which would take about two days to reach. The day was warm and sunny for October, and the four of us sat quietly enjoying the ride; we were all strangers, and although we lived in the same area, there wasn’t much to say. Eventually two of the men began a conversation and after exchanging names they settled into talk about the war and what they had heard from others. I listened for a while but my attention wandered to the countryside. I had never been away from home before, and being where there were no farms or people for miles around felt a little strange. I began to think of how much I would miss my family and the familiar routines of school and farm work, and how I really had no idea of what would happen in the coming months. The initial excitement of going on an adventure was beginning to wear off and I was faced with the reality that I was on my own and those I depended on for love, comfort, and safety were slipping farther and farther away.

The wagon driver told us we were headed toward Columbia, a town about the size of Hendersonville, about 25 miles to the east. We would pick up two more recruits and then head toward Shelby where we would spend the night and take care of the horses. I was curious as to what these towns along the way would be like. My thoughts and curiosity helped to take a little of the edge off a growing feeling of loneliness.

I began to feel hungry and took some dried fruit and the water from my sack. The dried apple slices were chewy and had both a sweetness and tartness to them that tasted good; and the water soothed my throat. None of the other men were eating and I wasn’t sure if I should offer to share my food, but none seemed interested in what I was doing.

I finished my snack and settled back to enjoy the rest of the trip. The sun was warm on my face and as we passed through groves of trees the birds were singing. It was pleasantly cool in the shade of the trees; I could tell the seasons were about to change. I saw some rabbits and a few squirrels. The squirrels were plump and bushy-tailed and I pictured myself shooting a few of them to bring home to my mother.

Soon we began to see some farms. The road was better now and more traveled, and we saw other wagons and riders, all of whom greeted us with nods or waves as we passed. We came over a small rise and could see the town about a mile away. There were 10 or 12 buildings along the main road. You could see horses and wagons and people moving around. When we got into town the driver pulled up in front of the feedlot store and told us we had about an hour to stretch our legs.

My legs were a little stiff from sitting almost five hours; my first few steps were a little awkward. The feedlot store had a blacksmith shop behind it and I walked there out of curiosity. No one was around and the horses in the stalls eyed me with little interest. Back on the main street I saw a general store. As I pushed through the door a little bell tinkled to announce my arrival. Two of the other men from the wagon were at the counter with the proprietor, paying for some fruit and jerky they had bought. I guess my eating had reminded them that they might not get fed until they got to the training camp two days away. I looked around the store and saw the usual collection of clothing and household items: pots and pans, some small tools, dried and packaged foods such as flour and sugar, salt and spices, some baskets of fresh fruit and vegetables. But the thing that caught my eye was a display of penny candies; a rainbow of colors and some red and white striped ones that I knew were peppermint. The money in my pocket was asking to be spent so I went to the counter to make a selection.

You one of the new recruits? asked the counterman.

Yes sir I replied.

Well, good luck and God bless you, son, he said.

I looked at the sweets and chose three red, three green, and four striped peppermints. When I held out my $10 bill the man said, No charge, son. Just go chase those Yankees back to where they came from.

I hesitated and didn’t know what to say. He was giving me the candy as a gift. I was embarrassed and confused at his generosity. I was a stranger to him but it seemed as if he felt he owed me something, and yet I had done nothing to earn it.

Thank you kindly, I stammered.

Just remember, keep those Bluecoats away from here and don’t forget to keep your head down, he said with a smile.

I left the store with thoughts of Yankees in my head and was back at the wagon before I realized how I’d gotten there. The other three men were already waiting and the driver was coming down the street followed by two men who must have been the new recruits. I climbed into the back of the wagon where my musket and sack lay and sat down to wait for our journey to continue.

Well boys, said one of the new men as he settled into the rear corner of the wagon, let’s go chase some Yankees back to Mr. Lincoln’s bedroom. He was a good-looking fellow in his early twenties, with straight dark blond hair, bright blue eyes, white teeth, and a big, good-natured grin and manner about him, about my height and weight. I’m Billy Kelly he said to me extending his hand, and who might you be?

I shook his firm grip and replied, Joshua Stone.

Well, Josh, he continued, are you ready to chase those Bluecoats back to where they came from?

I reckon, I said in a voice not much louder than a whisper. I’m from Hendersonville.

I’ve never been there, but it don’t matter. The South’s the South and them Yankees don’t belong here. Bobby Lee and the boys have been kicking them all over the countryside and if they need a little help then I’ll be happy to join in. We’ll all join in won’t we boys?

There were muttered replies and nods from the other men as Kelly’s outspoken enthusiasm seemed to affect everyone.

As the driver shook the traces to get the horses started he said to Kelly, Don’t worry boy, you’ll get plenty of chances to chase Bluecoats once you learn to march and obey orders.

As long as my marching is north and my orders are ‘shoot’, I’ll get what I came for, answered Kelly as he settled in.

We arrived in Shelby sometime after 8:00 in the evening. The sun was below the horizon and the sky in the west was a deep orange, quickly moving to purple, then black. You could already see some stars in the east where the blackness was deep and dark. Our driver pulled the wagon to the side of the blacksmith shop and stopped the horses. He turned around to us and said, That’s it for today, boys. We’ll stay the night here and be ready to head for Charlotte tomorrow morning about an hour after sun-up. There’s lodging down at the tavern if you need a bed, and the food is pretty decent. Try not to drink too much of the local liquor. I don’t want to spend all my time tomorrow morning trying to rouse you or nursemaid you on the way to Charlotte. He got down from the wagon and began unhitching the horses.

The proprietor of the shop came out and greeted him. How was the trip?

‘Bout the same as usual. Weather’s been good. No fun doing this in the rain, and winter’s coming. I’d like to feed the horses and brush them down. Have you got two stalls for me?

Billy Kelly and I were standing at the back of the wagon while the driver and the proprietor of the stable led the two horses into the barn.

Well Josh, what have you got in mind for this evening? How about some food and something to wash the dust from your throat? Billy asked.

I hesitated. I have my supper in my bag and I think I’ll stay here and watch them care for the horses. I was reluctant to go to the tavern with a bunch of strangers on my first night away from home. My father didn’t drink much and the one or two times he had let me taste liquor, it hadn’t been to my liking. I wouldn’t have felt comfortable sitting around and watching while my newfound companions were eating, drinking, and swapping stories.

Okay Josh, Kelly said with a big good-natured grin. Give those nags a goodnight pat for me and I’ll see you in the morning. And off he strolled toward the tavern.

I stood there for a moment wondering why I had decided not to go. Did I think I wouldn’t fit in? Would I be embarrassed not to drink? Was I too young to be doing this? I thought again of home and my family, and instead of making me lonely it helped me think again about why I had joined the army. I didn’t consider myself a hero. There was a job to do to protect my family and my country and I wanted to see more than the town I grew up in. It was nothing more than that. I believed God was on our side. I would put in my time, do my best, and when it was over I would go back to my family and continue to live my life in peace. Nothing would change except I would be a little older and would have seen more of the countryside.

I wandered into the stable area where our driver and the stable owner were talking. When they saw me the driver stopped brushing his horse. Yes, son, is there something I can help you with?

Would it be alright if I slept in the wagon tonight? I asked. I have my supper with me and it looks like a nice night. I’d just as soon sleep outside as in a strange bed, if it’s alright with you.

Suit yourself, son. The wagon ain’t soft but you’re welcome to it. He paused, then added in a softer tone, Wait ‘til you get to camp. You’ll be so busy marching and drilling you won’t have time to think of what you’re leaving behind. It’ll be better, you’ll see.

It was full night now, and when I looked up at the stars they seemed to be extra sharp and bright. I could hear voices and occasional laughter from the tavern down the street. I thought briefly of going there but decided to stay where I was. My bag was in the corner with my musket and bullet case. As I opened it to get the dried beef, fruit and bread my mother had packed for me only a few hours ago it seemed as if I had been gone from home for weeks. My mind was looking ahead to the unknown and my known world was rapidly fading into the past. I sat back, ate my meager rations, and looked again at the dark night sky and the pinpoint bright stars. There were night sounds coming from the nearby trees and a cool breeze was rustling the leaves. I heard an owl hoot off in the distance and a quiet peace seemed to settle over the town. I put my head back on my pack and I soon fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

CHAPTER TWO

The sun was part way up when I opened my eyes and at first I wasn’t sure where I was. I sat up stiffly and looked around. There were sounds coming from the barn, bits of conversation, and the stamping and snuffling of horses. I looked down the street toward the tavern to see if any of my companions were on their way back to the wagon, but none were in sight. I got to my feet and climbed over the back of the wagon down to the ground. After visiting the out—house and washing my face in the rain barrel outside the stable, I returned to the wagon. The sounds of voices in the barn drew me in and as I stepped through the door the proprietor saw me and