Home and Away

Home And Away

A Civil War Odyssey

Jack Dunn

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Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Jack Dunn.

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.

Library of Congress Control Number: pending

ISBN: Hardcover 978-1-4628-9561-8

Softcover 978-1-4628-9560-1

Ebook 978-1-4628-9562-5

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

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

. . . . AND LATER ON

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FOR NAOMI

CHAPTER ONE

WELL, THOUGHT STERLING, I've always been a strong believer in companionship, but this is providing too much of a good thing. The stagecoach was filled beyond capacity with passengers and their possessions both inside and out. Sterling was downright uncomfortable having to share the inside front seat with John Vandyke and Howard Shaeffer, two very husky fellows.

John, could I trouble you to move your big butt a little to your right, for just a second? I need to try and twist around a bit to get my face over to the window. I need some fresh air.

Sure. Since you put it so nicely, let me give it a try. There, how's that?

That's great, and I can breathe now. Many thanks.

Sterling Louchs was a twenty-year-old student at the Agricultural College of Pennsylvania. With a German and English heritage, Sterling possessed a fair complexion and was of average height. He was used to hard work and was muscular and strong for his size. He was born and had lived most of his life on a farm a few miles east of the village of Petersburg, which is located between Carlisle and Gettysburg. His bond with both his mother and father was strong and secure and perhaps strengthened by the fact that he had no siblings. His parents had hoped that he'd enter a profession such as law or the ministry, but a brief stint at Dickinson College in Carlisle was not to his liking and convinced him that a classical education was not his forte. His love of the farm had pointed him toward the new state-supported agricultural school a hundred or so miles to the north in Centre County.

Sterling enjoyed his time at the college. As a young adult growing up on a farm in a rural area, his opportunity to associate with people of his age was quite limited and confined to such activities as church or other rare community events. In contrast, he found the time at the Agricultural College to be quite enjoyable. It afforded him the opportunity to learn about other areas in the state. Of more importance, he acquired an understanding of a variety of attitudes on an array of issues. Many of these—such as slavery, secession, and the conscription of civilians into the military—had to do with the war between the states, which had been ongoing for over two years. Sterling was an intelligent young man, and he had excelled in the academic studies. Nonetheless, he had questions about the value of continuing with these studies. He was torn between the school activities he had come to enjoy and the pleasure he derived from being at home, absorbed in the activities and challenges of farm life.

The travel conditions of the day made it hard to appreciate the beauty of the wide valley bounded by Nittany and Bald Eagle Mountains. Even so, the bounty of the rich agricultural area could be seen everywhere.

This valley has good-looking cropland, observed Howard.

Yes, that certainly seems to be the case, replied Sterling. Out the window on this side, I can see seven—no, eight—haystacks. It looks to me that they'll have plenty of forage for their cattle and horses this winter.

Looks like a good year for grain too, added John. Out my side, I can see row upon row of really good-looking corn. Those corn stocks look to be about waist high. My Pop always said if the corn was waist high by the fourth of July, you'd have a good crop. A few miles back the way we came, I noticed that the wheat and oats was already cut and the shocks were drying in the sun. Before long, they'll be thinkin' about threshing time.

The mountainsides above the valley were tree covered, and the deciduous and evergreen foliage resulted in an expanse of varying shades of green broken only by areas that, at a distance, looked like fields of gravel. But that view was deceiving. Sterling and a few of his classmates had hiked up to see these phenomena known as ganister flows and was awestruck to find single boulders nearly as large as the stagecoach.

On June 27, 1863, Sterling and several of his fellow students caught the thrice-weekly stage from Bellefonte that would take them to the Pennsylvania Railroad at Spruce Creek. It was a sunny summer morning. A pleasant breeze of cool air drifted down the mountainsides into the valley. However, the high spirits and sense of adventure that marked the start of the trip dissipated rapidly as the stage driver tried to negotiate the rough and irregular roadway. By the time the travelers reached Rockspring, the only conversations were muttered curses when one of the coach's wheels fell into a rut and threatened to expel the topside passengers. The remainder of the trip to Spruce Creek was not a pleasant prospect.

From the facing rear seat, Henry Sloat inquired, Ster, do you think the rebs have crossed into the state by now?

It's anybody's guess, but if not, they're sure headin' north. President Pugh said yesterday that he believed their objective was Harrisburg. It would be a big boost for them to capture the capital of a northern state.

Aw, that's never gonna happen, interrupted Henry. They're just a bunch of slow-talkin' hillbillies. Hooker's boys will take care of them all right.

Well, maybe we'd like to think so, said Sterling, but they whipped our troops pretty good at Chancellorsville. President Lincoln's recent call for fifty thousand volunteers just from Pennsylvania wasn't made lightly.

Sterling recalled the excitement. Rumors were confirmed when President Pugh addressed the entire student body after chapel on the previous day. He announced that a Confederate invasion was expected in the coming days, and because of the emergency, classes were being suspended until September. He described the situation as perilous. There was a serious threat to the home state, and the reactions of the students were a matter of personal conscience. During the two previous years of the war, President Pugh had urged the students to not leave their studies and told them that they were the pioneers in the building of what one day would be a great university.

Sterling smiled as he recalled that statement. Obviously, he thought, President Pugh was something of a visionary who looked ahead and was optimistic by nature. But it was a real stretch to see the Agricultural College becoming a great university. After all, the founders had even avoided calling it a college. For his part, Sterling had been much more comfortable with the original name: the Farmer's High School.

In the mid-nineteenth century, most colleges were privately owned, and many students tended to be the wealthy wastrels later generations would call playboys. Curriculums focused on the classics and didn't prepare graduates for specific avocations or professions. To the contrary, the Agricultural College was clearly oriented toward the practice of agriculture. The mornings were devoted to relevant classwork, and the afternoons consisted of toil in the fields. All students were required to devote at least three hours per day in this physical labor. Now in his second year, Sterling had enrolled in February 1862 at the beginning of the school year. The institution had graduated its first fourteen students the previous November. A pretty modest beginning for a great university, Sterling thought.

The exodus began almost immediately after the president's announcement. A few students who did not have strong Union or antislavery views became a cadre to remain at the school and maintain the crops and livestock. The majority of the students, however, began almost immediately to consider how and where they might best serve the Union cause.

Still and all, continued Howard, the last time we heard anything, the rebs were in Winchester, and it's a long walk to Pennsylvania from there.

John Shaeffer added his thoughts. Howard, you sure always look on the sunny side of things. Did you forget that our troopers took another lickin' at Winchester? I bet there's a lot of those Virginia boys riding up the valley on Pennsylvania ponies.

That's worrisome to me, said Sterling. "Our farm, just north of Gettysburg, is not typical for the area. It's primarily devoted to livestock, including both cattle and horses.

Everybody knows the South has a limited supply of both. If an invasion actually comes to pass, our farm would be an attractive target."

Sterling also thought about his father's health, which had become rather frail during the last two years. He would be physically limited if it became necessary to move the livestock to a safe location. His mother's last letter had not been reassuring about his father's well-being. She had related that the chest pains and the aches in his left arm were occurring with increased frequency. I just don't know, thought Sterling. Should I go to Harrisburg and volunteer in some military capacity, or is my allegiance to Mom and Dad? Wonder what I might be able to do to help preserve the family resources if I decide to go home? Well, he thought, I'll need to make up my mind in the next few hours.

Sterling had observed that one of their number had avoided being drawn into the conversation about the war news and the issues surrounding it. Albert Hanson offered no opinions, but Sterling noticed some body language that indicated interest, although unspecified. Albert's family lived in the southern portion of Bedford County. Their farm was only a short distance from the state boundary with Maryland—which, in turn, was just a few miles from West Virginia, formerly Virginia. In earlier discussions, Albert had not disguised the fact that he had relatives in the Martinsburg area and indeed had two cousins that were serving in Virginia military units. And while he made it clear that his family did not own slaves or countenance slavery, he was somewhat vague as to his feelings about state rights and southern independence. Sterling was aware that southern sympathizers in the north were commonly known as copperheads. He wondered if that was Albert's political leaning, or was he just caught in the middle of conflicting values?

The journey continued in a generally southern direction, and the valley widened. Mount Nittany, now only dimly visible to the rear, was replaced on the east by Mount Tussey. The road shifted closer to the mountain base and roughly paralleled the small stream of Spruce Creek, which flowed into the Little Juniata River.

Gradually, Sterling felt the horses slow as the stage driver pulled on the reins and spoke to them, Whoa, you nags. We've got to let you get a drink and rest a bit.

Horace Rowley had driven the stage route for several years, even before the Farmers High School came into being. In his younger years, he was a teamster from near Lancaster. He enjoyed being thought of as a rough character but had a great deal of native intelligence and could be well-spoken if he wished. His job included a spartan living area in the stable and enough money to cover basic necessities, with enough left over to get falling-down drunk once or twice a month. He had an interesting physique. His shoulders were broad, and he could be described as having a barrel chest. However, his legs—while very short—were thick and stocky and gave him a stumpy appearance.

To his passengers he said, All right, young fellows. Here's a chance for you all to stretch your legs a few minutes while these nags get a drink, take a blow. We've got at least another twelve miles till we get to Spruce Creek, and some of that has steeper grades. Besides, I can't remember ever having the number of passengers that I have this morning. You young fellows with all your gear make quite a heavy load.

With that, he climbed down from his seat and started to unhitch the teams. The horses became a bit unruly since they were familiar with this stop, and the watering trough was most inviting. But Horace tolerated no rebellion. With sharp jerks on the reins, he quickly brought them back into line and walked them over to the trough.

It was a great relief for the passengers to climb down from the stage. There was much stretching and groaning with relief. One by one, they headed for the wooden sluice that directed the water into the trough from a spring in the rock outcrop at the side of the road. The cool water provided a refreshing respite for both the horses and the passengers.

The stagecoach trips through this very rural area provided one of the few breaks in the hard work and tedium of farm life. Weather permitting, the coach attracted local residents, especially children. Today was no exception, and from out of the farmhouse a short distance ahead, three youngsters emerged and hurried toward the stage. The first to reach them was a boy of about twelve years of age, and he was bright enough to notice the large number of passengers. A rapid-fire interrogation followed.

Where are all you fellows heading? Why so many of you? Are you all from the farm school? Is something wrong?

Hold on there, nubbin, said Henry Sloat, and slow down. Which of those questions do you want us to answer?

The boy said nothing, just looked back expectantly and merely shrugged.

Haven't your folks heard that the rebs are heading north? inquired Henry.

What's a reb?

With that, Henry and the others quickly realized that there was little point in trying to continue the conversation. By that time, the other two youngsters had come to where the stage was stopped. The one, an even younger boy, was interested only in the horses and walked in their direction, only to be warned to keep his distance by Horace.

It soon became apparent to Sterling that the third member of this trio was not a boy and also not a child. The shapeless homemade dress could not hide the curve of the hips and the breasts of a young woman whom he guessed was perhaps fifteen years old. She did not approach the group around the stage directly but walked over to the split rail fence that bordered the road. Sterling watched as she somewhat boldly scanned the group of young men who, in turn, made note of her. To his surprise, her gaze lingered on him, and she smiled. At the same time, she backed up to the fence and leaned back on the top rail. As she raised her shoulders, it became clear at once that she was well-endowed and equally clear that she wanted him to know. She smiled again and her tongue circled her lips, leaving them moist and shiny. Almost immediately, Sterling felt his cheeks flush and a tremor in his groin.

This exchange was not lost on Sterling's travel mates, and he was made more uncomfortable by a series of coughs and low whistles. Only Henry was bold enough to make an embarrassing suggestion.

Well, Ster, this looks like your big opportunity to finally get the old cob scraped. I think you just had an invitation to visit the hay mow.

Sterling was thoroughly flustered at this point but was spared the need to reply by the stage driver's call for everyone to get back on board. As he climbed back in, he was subjected to a few more chuckles and a good-natured slap on the back. As the stage lurched forward to continue its journey, Sterling resisted the temptation to look out at the young woman. To have done so would have produced more teasing by the others. The experience had unnerved him. As a boy growing up on a farm, he had frequently watched the coupling of animals, but he had yet to experience a sexual encounter. At school, this was a favorite topic of conversation. Almost all of his schoolmates had stories to tell of their success in encounters with young women. He wondered how many of those tales were anything more that wishful thinking. Most of all, he wondered when he would have his own story.

And so the journey continued. As they got closer to their destination, the roadway gradually veered toward the side of the valley. It also began to twist and turn as it paralleled the meanders of Spruce Creek. The terrain was noticeably more irregular, and the roadbed had many more ruts and potholes. The coach climbed a small rise, and as it proceeded down a long grade, the driver and the passengers on the top noticed ahead a buckboard wagon hitched to mules and surrounded by several individuals along with boxes of goods or possessions. As they got closer to this scene, it became clear that some type of mishap had occurred. One of the rear wheels was off the vehicle, lying on the road, and that corner of the wagon bed was resting on the road. The persons gathered around the wagon were Negroes—not a usual sight in this