Lieutenant Colonel S. G. Shepard

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Contents

Acknowledgments..............................................................................................................ixForeword.....................................................................................................................xiiiPreface......................................................................................................................xvIntroduction.................................................................................................................1Chapter 1. Camp Trousdale....................................................................................................11Chapter 2. George Reminisces.................................................................................................20Chapter 3. Enter Jordan Robinson.............................................................................................26Chapter 4. War Is On.........................................................................................................33Chapter 5. George Prays All Night............................................................................................46Chapter 6. Confederates Holding Their Own....................................................................................52Chapter 7. Martha Jane Gets a Letter.........................................................................................58Chapter 8. The Secret Mission................................................................................................62Chapter 9. The Bradshaws Have Visitors.......................................................................................87Chapter 10. George Visits Martha Jane........................................................................................97Chapter 11. Gettysburg.......................................................................................................107Chapter 12. Grant Goes to Virginia...........................................................................................123Chapter 13. The Colonel Goes to Washington...................................................................................141Chapter 14. A Wedding........................................................................................................148Chapter 15. A New Beginning..................................................................................................154Chapter 16. Years Pass, Children Come........................................................................................173Chapter 17. A Little Schoolhouse Gets Built in the Cedars....................................................................186Chapter 18. A Father-Daughter Bond Grows.....................................................................................198Chapter 19. Life with the Shepard Family.....................................................................................213Chapter 20. A Marriage, a Death..............................................................................................239Chapter 21. Final Days.......................................................................................................251Epilogue.....................................................................................................................268Appendix A Report of Lieutenant Colonel S G Shepard, Seventh Tennessee Infantry-The Battle of Gettysburg.....................271Appendix B-Roster of Oiginal Company G, Seventh Tennessee Volunteer Infantry, CSA............................................276Appendix C-Memoirs of Colonel A John A Fite, Seventh Tennessee Infantry CSA..................................................277Appendix D-Private Sam.......................................................................................................281Bibliography.................................................................................................................287

Chapter One

During the winter of 1860 and spring of 1861, the men of both the North and the South were being drawn very rapidly into the vortex of war. The secessionists had taken over almost all the forts, arsenals, and troops of the United States. The South, except for ammunition, was fairly well fixed for war. But if the South was to win in this conflict for "freedom" from the North with its larger population and vaster resources, she must have volunteers, many volunteers. The whole South was in a stir. Young men who had never been very far from home before were leaving for camps.

The day Fanny expected and dreaded had come-the day when George and Jake Magruder and the other neighbor boys who had been meeting Saturday afternoons all spring at the schoolhouse would be leaving for Camp Trousdale in Sumner County, Tennessee. Fanny presented George's group with a Confederate flag. It was a hot day that May twentieth when they left for camp.

They headed toward Camp Trousdale. Camp Trousdale was established as a training site for Tennessee Confederate soldiers. It was thirty-five miles north of Lebanon, forty miles north of Nashville, and located conveniently on the Louisville & Nashville Railroad. According to the Military Annals of Tennessee, it was here the Seventh Tennessee Infantry was organized on May 25, 1861 and none too soon for Tennessee, the last state to do so, was to secede June 8. It consisted of ten companies of which six were from Wilson, two from Sumner, and one each from Smith and DeKalb counties. Each company consisted of one hundred men. George's Company G called themselves the "Hurricane Rifles" because of the Hurricane creek near their homes that would rise like a hurricane.

As reported in the Military Annals of Tennessee, the Seventh was issued Mississippi rifles, which were different from that of any other regiment in Tennessee. The Mississippi rifles were kept for the first two years but then replaced by the Springfield and Enfield rifles because the Confederacy could no longer procure the ammunition.

Fanny slept very little the night before. She spent the night rolling and tossing or slipping off onto her knees by the bed to pray. After the hard night, she and George were up and out early the next morning. He had things to do at the last hour. The wagons and mules and horses to take the men as far as the river would be leaving at ten o'clock. George was ready by nine. "Why did he get ready so soon?" Fanny moaned to herself. He too was irritated with himself for being in such a hurry. For once, he had overdone his promptness. And now the minutes dragged by like hours.

Fanny would live with their sister Sallie and Sallie's husband, William Bradshaw, while George was away. They were coming for her this morning. George kept looking down the road for them. He went out to the barn to make sure that everything was done that he could do there before leaving. While he was out there, Jake came to say goodbye to Fanny. She had hoped he wouldn't come. She hated goodbyes. When she saw him nearing the gate, she looked around nervously for George. Where on earth was he? Why didn't he stay around where he was needed!

Jake, the deliberate, never-in-a-hurry man, now seemed to be in a hurry. He came onto the porch with a determined look and clipped words. "Miss Fanny," he began, when he had reached the first step, and with no preliminary greetings, "how many times have I asked you to marry me?"

She wasn't surprised to hear him say it, and the bluntness of his manner and his red-faced, set expression put her at ease. "If you can't remember, Jake, how do you expect me to?" she replied.

Jake smiled and lapsed into his lazy drawl, seating himself on the top step of the porch and leaning against the pillar. "Oh, I guess I could count 'em, the ones I said out loud to you-but the ones I said to myself-well, I guess I couldn't do that."

"Don't you think you better stop that?"

He leaned forward and grinned at her. "Counting them?" he said.

"No. I guess you know what I mean."

"I'm afraid I do-but I can't make no promises about that."

"Well anyhow, don't ask me now. I might say yes, and that wouldn't be good for either of us."

"Maybe not for you, but powerful good for me."

"Oh, Jake, you are all excited now over going to war. Any woman would look beautiful to you today, and desirable. I'm older than you, five years older. A man needs a wife younger than himself. Women get old faster than men. Forget me. Find you another girl. There will be plenty of them when this war is over. A lot of men are going to get killed, I'm afraid. There will be many heart-broken sweethearts and young wives left at home. It's horrible to think about-and terribly unreasonable! Why does it have to be?" She had swept Jake along with her, almost making him forget that he had come to propose once more.

"I ain't letting myself think about that right now," he said. "I hope we won't be long gone. The professor still hopes there won't be any actual shooting. He says 'tain't logical."

"I know, Jake, but I'm afraid my brother's wrong."

"Will you write to me, Miss Fanny, while I'm away?"

"'Course I will, if I know where to find you. I'm glad you're going to be with 'the professor,' as you call him. I feel both of you will be safer being together."

"So'm I glad. I couldn't hardly go if I couldn't be with him. If he's an officer-as I'm certain he will be-I'll manage somehow to get with his bunch."

"You do that, Jake, and let us know if there is anything we can do for you. I suppose there will be some way to send food or clothing if you aren't well supplied."

"I don't know, but the professor, he'll know. He seems to know purty much everything. He's told us all about companies and regiments and brigades and divisions. Guess I'll learn sometime ... maybe." Reluctantly, he stood up on the porch step where he'd been sitting and turned to go. "Well, goodbye, Miss Fanny. No use hanging around any longer. The flag you gave us is beautiful. I'll always think of you when I see it. Well, our wagon and mules will be going purty soon now." He turned and grinned at her. "If I happen to come back and you are still Miss Fanny, it'll be the same old tale you'll be hearing. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Jake. God bless you and keep you from harm and danger. Goodbye."

Jake was hardly out of sight when George came in through the back of the house. He was surprised to see Fanny with her head on her arms on the table, evidently much disturbed.

"Fanny, what's the matter?" Fanny didn't cry for nothing.

She raised her head, dabbed her eyes, and gave her nose a vicious swab. "Jake's just said goodbye."

"Well?"

"Oh George, he's so pitiful. I don't know whether I'm just mad at myself because I can't love the man or just sorry for him."

"If you can't, you can't. I wouldn't worry about it. He'll be all right. I'm glad he's going to be with me. I'll try to be his big brother," he said, trying to put a lighter turn to the affair. Fanny stared into the faraway and didn't answer. George cleared his throat. "It's about time Sallie and William were here," he said, looking down the road. "Are you sure there isn't something else you want me to do before I go?"

"Nothing. Nothing, and for pity's sake, go on without saying goodbye. I hate goodbyes." She used her handkerchief again, and said, just to break the tense, awkward silence, "How far is it to Camp Trousdale, George?"

He knew that she knew, but he answered as though he hadn't told her before. "About thirty-five miles. You'll be hearing from us often. Could come over if you wanted to."

"How long do you think you'll be there?" Again, the handkerchief had to be used, this time with determination and finality. She shouldn't be a sissy fool. She wouldn't!

"I haven't much idea. Plenty of time to write home though. We might be there for six months and then come home. The war hasn't started yet, you know. The trouble may blow over before real war ever begins." He gazed down the road. "There they are now," he said, looking relieved, and then added, "Sallie and William. Take care of yourself, Fanny. Don't worry about us, my dear, and write often. I'll tell Sallie and William goodbye at the gate. I'm off now." He looked deeply into her face but didn't offer to kiss her goodbye or even to take her hand. "Don't forget us when you say your prayers," he said, and was gone.

He didn't look much like a soldier as he went down the path. He looked like a man with a very heavy load on his way to a very uncertain duty. And Fanny certainly didn't feel or behave much like a soldier. She hurried into her room, threw herself onto her bed, and sobbed. Then she was off the bed as impatiently as she had flung herself onto it. You idiot, she demeaned herself. Go wash your face. You don't want Sallie and William to see you acting the fool!

Fanny had a real home at Sallie's. She was conscious of being wanted. She was conscious of being a help to Sallie in running the home and seeing after the babies. Ida and Frank were such adorable babies.

Sallie had insisted on Fanny taking the big, airy room on the second floor, the one with a window looking to the east and out onto the flower garden. There was a western window too and a big fireplace and comfortable furniture, all to give her a feeling of well-being. She was ideally situated, but she missed George sorely, almost tragically. She had a motherly love for him and adored him as almost perfect, a feeling she kept to the end of her life.

She was afraid to write to him the day after he left for the camp because she was depressed, and she didn't want to depress him. After a lapse of three days, she felt better and decided to try it. He'd be expecting a letter.

May 23rd Dear George, I'm sorry I was such a fool the day you left. I assure you I am fully recovered and feel very proud to have a brother so loyal to duty and so brave about it. Of course, you had to go; of course I wouldn't for anything have had you go with the Yankees. Poor old Mrs. Nelson is stricken with an almost unbearable grief. Her only son has gone to the Northern army. Mrs. Samson's two sons have gone, one to the Northern army and the other to the Southern. Mr. Lincoln's speech about the "Divided House" haunts me these days. So many homes are being divided now. I wonder which way the country will fall. But I'm writing not to philosophize, but to assure you that I'm not altogether bad and am going to be happy here with Sallie and her interesting family. I can see that she needs me, or somebody more capable than her school-teaching sister can possibly be, in running her home. It's perfectly amazing how much time children the age of hers take to keep them fed, clothed, and happy. Yesterday, Sallie and I took them out for an airing and went to see Mrs. Underwood. Her only son has gone to Camp Trousdale. Her husband has been dead several years. She made me feel very much ashamed of myself. You would have thought her son had gone away on a triumphant journey and that she had every possible need provided for. If you happen to see her son, Ceph, shake his hand for his mother's sake. I hope he's half as brave as she is. Remember me to Jake and let us hear from you as often as you can. Your very foolish but very loving sister, Fanny

Sallie and Fanny were on the side porch getting ready to hull the plump, green peas that Fanny had just gathered and brought in from the garden. Ida, with her new pink dress and her pink and white gingham sunbonnet securely tied under her chin, was playing in the yard. Frank was asleep in his cradle nearby. Fanny hung her bonnet on the back of her chair, wiped her face on the corner of her apron, and asked Sallie if William had gone for the mail.

"Yes, and it's about time he was back. I hope he brings a letter from George."

"He will, I think-and the papers. I want to see what's happening in Washington and Richmond. Now that George is gone, I don't have the same urge to keep up with the news, except that everything that happens has something to do with him. I do wish I could believe he's right, that no real war will be fought."

"We can only hope and pray, Fanny. I see William coming now."

As William stepped onto the porch, he handed two letters to Fanny.

"One from George, Fanny?" asked Sallie.

"Yes, and one from Jake, I guess. It's from Camp Trousdale, and nobody else there would be writing to me. I'll read George's now, shall I?"

"Please do. Here, let me have your pan. William, you take Fanny's pan and hull while she reads."

Camp Trousdale May 27th, '61

My dear Fanny, I was sorry to leave home with you feeling as you do about my going.

"I could kick myself," said Fanny, and then continued reading:

I would be sorry in any case to leave you. But I'm sure you will get on all right at Sallie's. Do, my dear sister, try to be your own bright, cheerful self. But you couldn't be anything else for long. Your vivacity and cheerfulness are not to be subdued by so slight a calamity as that of having an unworthy brother go away for a few weeks. Keep a stiff backbone and look to the future. We arrived in camp with not too much delay or inconvenience. We had a little trouble in getting started from the schoolhouse on account of Pete Sullivan's mule having one of her stubborn spells. Tommy Jones was in the wagon with Jake and I. When Pete's mule was giving Pete some trouble, I heard Jake say to Tommy, "That's a powerfully handy pole over in the grass there," pointing to a stick by the side of the road near the wagon. I saw Tommy look at Jake and Jake wink at Tommy, and then-but Jake will tell you what Tommy did. I repeat what I said to you on leaving, "Don't worry about Jake." I think he enjoyed the trip thoroughly and certainly helped everybody else to keep jolly. Much obliged for the lunch I found in the satchel. It was sufficient for Jake and me both for a whole day, and we needed it. Jake's folks had fixed a box for him, but alas, he forgot it! I think he enjoyed sharing mine more, coming from your kitchen and prepared by your lily-white hands! But I desist, remembering how upset you were over his goodbye. Jake's all right. A man's heart is soon mended-or so they say. By the next letter, the Camp will be in fine running order and I'll be able to tell you more. Give my love to Sallie and family, and believe me, your devoted brother. George

When Fanny had finished George's letter, she opened the other one and began to read. Sallie talked to William about allowing Fanny to not read the second letter aloud. But Fanny did.

Camp Trousdale May 27th, 1861

My Dear Miss Fanny, I was a little disappointed that you didn't come to the schoolhouse with the professor last week to see us off.

"Who's the professor?" asked Sallie.

"George. That's what Jake calls him ever since they were having those meetings at the schoolhouse this spring." She continued:

"But I guess it was all for the best. There was a right smart crying among the women and girls who had come to say goodbye to their sons and sweethearts. You wouldn't have liked that. I think you'd have liked the way Tommy Jones got Pete Sullivan's mule started but I'm not gonna tell you about it. Tommy Jones was in the wagon with the professor and me. There were ten of us in that wagon. I'll have to wait to tell you, if you'll let me, about how the professor is now a Captain-huh, Captain indeed! He ought to be a Brigadier General! Now I'm learning to shoot a Mississippi rifle. As ever, Jake

William said, "And so George is a captain. I supposed you agree with Jake on that subject, Fanny? You too think George ought to be a brigadier general. Wasn't that what Jake said?"

"The war is young yet. No telling what he'll be before it's over," Fanny said with a sigh.

"I think you'd better cultivate Jake, Fanny, if you can get such letters as that from him," said Sallie.

"You don't know Jake. Jake's over-cultivated now."

"What's the matter with him?" asked William.

"Nothing, except he needs to find out that I'm not the only woman in the world."

"Is it hopeless?"

"Absolutely. I could never get romantic about Jake, and I think enough of him to want to see him happy and settled."

"So you won't write him, I guess."

"Once in a while, but not often."

"A pity. Why can't folks be sensible about falling in love?" (Continues...)

Excerpted from Lieutenant Colonel S. G. Shepardby Reta Moser Alice Hughes Shepard Carver Copyright © 2010 by Reta Moser. Excerpted by permission.
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