Ashoken Farewell



by Jeffrey Allen White


Chapter 1

The biting cold passed through his body. Slivers of ice cold steel penetrated his chest and lungs. The harsh winter wind tore through him, making him gasp for every breath. His throat stung as he gasped, his insides burning with a pain he had never known before, as if a knife passed through his chest, slicing him in half.

The storm had raged on for the past two days. Many men had died hideous deaths of the severe exposure along with festering wounds they had collected in battle. Bodies were frozen where they fell, in macabre, haunting positions and poses. A sterile wasteland of frozen men and boys and their stilled lives were everywhere. A man could not walk without tripping or bumping into one. Their flesh frozen solid and their faces wearing their last expression, one of great pain, despair and pain.

John sat motionless in the snow-laden trench. His feet and legs buried beneath the continuous falling of snow. Ice forming a blanket of death around him. Both of his legs had stopped hurting and now throbbed with a slow even beat. The sounds of war and the anguish and agony turned to a distant roar but still menacingly close like a buzzard circling the dying animal.

The stinging had left his body and in return, a dull throb pulsated with every beat of his heart. His head pounded with his iced blood. His bleeding had slowed but the life was slowly leaving him.

It had been a week, no, two weeks since he last felt any kind of warmth. John tried to remember the last hot meal he had eaten. The battalion of men, the forty-third regiment had traveled through most of Virginia in freezing rain and blinding snow. The battalion had split up and took two different routes planning to meet in Lexington. The weather had turned to rain and then to snow. There were only a few men left and they had been making their way to a rendezvous with the other men when the storm hit. John was the only one still alive now.

The first Lieutenant, Avery Johnson, had died the second day of the storm. He was educated and from a prosperous and well-known family back home. Too delicate a nature to serve in the army, John thought. Avery’s stature and demeanor was not suited for war. Avery had been an educator, a teacher in a private academy for other prosperous young men of wealthy families like himself. He had fallen and broken his leg badly. The bones had pierced his thigh and he lost a great deal of blood. The cold just was too much and he died the next night as they all huddled together for warmth.

John brushed his hand against his face, clearing the snow and ice from his beard with his hand John noticed he had lost two fingers from frostbite. Their angry black stumps swollen and putrefied. His woolen cap pulled low onto his brow had also frozen solid, making his forehead jut out over his eyes. All he could do now was to keep what vision he had left clear. Across from John in the trench were his two friends, Graham Matthews and William O’Neill.

He had known them both from before the war. Graham was a farmer. Tall, well muscled but not too bright. He had left school early to take on the responsibility of his families’ farm when his father died. He never married, as his work took up all of his time caring for the farm and his five younger siblings.

William was a bookkeeper. He had worked for John’s family in their business. Both John and William worked for his father keeping the books for his mercantile business. William was almost like John’s brother, he only had two sisters and they were older. They had known each other since they were children. John was William’s best man when he married Melinda. They had two small children, both boys, Zachary John and Brent Andrew. William gave his first-born John as his middle name in honor of their friendship.

John had always looked out for William and even saved his life one day by pulling him down to the floor during a robbery. Three men had entered his father’s back offices and demanded money. Before anyone could react, one of the gunmen fired a shot out of nervousness hitting a wooden box of buttons. The other men followed suit as they were forced into believing they were being fired upon. William was closest to them with John just sitting beside him. The first shot passed through the wooden box and buttons spilled onto the desk and floor and then hit the wall behind John’s head. The second shot hit John in the shoulder as his tackled William to the floor among the strewn buttons. It all happened so fast.

The men fled without even taking any money. They had bungled up somehow and just retreated as fast as they came in. Men were shouting everywhere. John could hear his father as he grabbed a gun from his desk and followed the fleeing men out into the street. John’s father stepped over him and William, not knowing his son had been shot.

William held John’s wound by pressing his hand firmly against it. As John lay there, he could see his father standing in the open doorway taking aim with his gun. More shots were fired and John saw his father go down as his own consciousness left him.

John awoke with William standing beside him. He was in his own bed. He cried out as he tried to move. His wound was dressed and tended. William placed a wet rag against John’s forehead. Wiping his dried lips with the rag, he offered a smile.

“I knew you were in there.” William had stayed by his friend’s side for almost three days. Watching John burn with fever and causing his body to shake and tremble. There was a great deal of blood loss and the Doctor Higgins said he did not know if John would make it. The convulsions John had worried him even more. Men that took to convulsions rarely would live, as their body would give up. He had seen this before.

“William”, John whispered. “MY... my... father.” It took every ounce of his strength to pass these words from his dried, parched lips. He looked up at William. “... Father...” John whispered again.

Tears rolled down William’s eyes. He had to tell his friend that his father had been killed in the attempted robbery. A single shot through the heart. “I am sorry, John, your father... your father is gone.” William grabbed John’s reaching hand.

“No!” John screamed and he tried to raise himself up. The pain throwing him back onto the bed causing his stitches to open and bleed a little. Fresh blood stained through the bandages. John held tightly onto William’s hand and then he was asleep again.

William stayed by John’s bed until he was out of danger and he had started to eat. “A good sign of his returning health.” Doctor Higgins said. A servant had brought in a bowl of mashed vegetables. William hand fed his friend slowly making sure he swallowed his food before giving him another and wiping his chin with any that may have run out of his mouth.

“William,” John had been in and out of it for days with the fever but today he felt himself present. “William... thank you.” John tried a smile and grimaced with pain.

“It should be I, thanking you. After all, you saved my life.” William smiled again. John returned the smile and squeezed his hand. He though of his father as he fell back to sleep.

The next three months were spent selling his father’s inventory and they both entered the army to serve as the country divided by a civil war. The north and the south fighting each other, man against man.

John tried to remember when he last saw William alive. Was it a day ago? Two? Or was it merely minutes? John had lost track of time and space and much feeling in his body. He wiped his brow again and pulled his collar higher up onto his face.

He looked over at Graham and William again; both were covered with snow. What life they had was now gone. Only a faint silhouette of their bodies was visible. Soon they would be completely buried in the snow along with John.

The wind picked up and more ice and snow blew onto him from outside the trench. John tried to move his legs. He could not feel them anymore. He was dying; he knew it. He tried to pull himself away from the wall of the trench. His back pulled away and he could feel snowfall around his shoulders and down along his back.

Reaching out in front of him, John grabbed what he could within his reach. He could feel very little. It was William’s hand. His frozen dead hand. John pulled himself towards his fallen friend. Slowly he fell forward against William knocking the snow away. His face coming to rest inches from that of William’s. John’s heart raced. The pain in his legs came back with a vengeance. His screamed as snow fell into his mouth causing him to choke and cough.

He pushed himself back from William, resting against the opposite wall of the trench. John was crying now. His tears freezing immediately onto his lashes. His eyes wide and filled with pain.

John tried to close them but they would not move. Slowly the white snow around him started to fade. He felt as he was falling. No pain, no cold and no hurt. He tumbled and turned; his frozen body now able to move or rather being tossed around like a rag doll. He was now resting on the ground. The snow had disappeared and was replaced by acres of wild flowers and tall grass. The summer sun, shinning on his face and warming his body. He was dreaming or he was dead, John thought.

He raised himself up onto one elbow. He grabbed a blade of grass and broke it, feeling it against his face. The smells and sounds of summer, last summer filled his senses. He could hear birds singing and the warm wind passing through the trees.

“John... John”. A voice called him. It was Claire. He knew her voice well. He picked himself up and dusted himself off just as Claire reached him. She threw herself into his arms and kissed him in the sunlight. “I love you, John.” She said looking into his eyes.

John kissed Claire again, feeling her body against his. Her long blond hair blowing into their faces. “I love you”, he returned. He picked her up and carried her back to the house. The ruffle of the grass and flowers beneath his feet were second to their laughter and joy.

John opened his eyes. It was a dream. He was not out in the warm sunlight. He was not back home. Claire was not there. He was going to die. He was dying.

His labored breath turned into icy vapors as they left his mouth. The tears that had frozen onto his face cracked and fell down his cheek. He could it as it fell onto him. His pain was intense now. More a burning then ever before. He wondered how he could feel this burning when he was freezing to death. John turned his head and rested his face against his shoulder. More snow fell around him. It was endless, the storm surged onward killing everything around him. Killing him.

“John, what do think about this?” It was Claire. He was with Claire again. She was holding a dress up against herself with one hand as she swung around holding the full skirt. She had just gotten it. She had ordered it from John’s father. When it came in, he would not let her pay for it, not even his cost.

“Well, what do you think?’ Claire stopped twirling about and stood before her mirror. John was sitting on a chair against the far wall. He had a book in his hand. John looked down and could see the title and author. It was a book written by a Clayton Greene, a well know writer who wrote tales of heroism
and valor.

He closed the book placing it on the stand next to his chair and stood up walking over to Claire. He reached his arms around her and held her against him, her hand caressing the curve of his jaw and neck. He could smell her scent of flower water. She always smelled like flowers. Never a day did she not. Even today with snow all around him...

John was dreaming again. He had been with Claire again. When did he see her last? Two or three months. Forever it seemed. His breath filled the air in front of him. It was as cold as the air around him. John grabbed his collar with his right hand and tried to move his left. He looked down. His left arm was not moving. It was frozen. John pulled his collar tighter as if it made a difference. It crackled from the frozen wetness. His hand released slowly off his collar and he again closed his eyes. On the other hand, he thought he did. He could not see anymore.

Then he felt his vision return and he looked around. It was dark. Moonlight was sifting in through a window. He was in his bed. The bedclothes were all around him and... Claire. She was asleep next to him. They had just made love and together they drifted off to sleep. Hours later, he awoke and watched her as she slept. Her long golden hair all around her face and pillow reflecting the light of the moon outside. He reached out and brushed his fingers against her face. She turned a little and settled back into her sleep.

John withdrew his hand not wanting to wake her. He just watched her as she slept. Her breathing slow and peaceful. Her face radiant from the love they had shared. He pulled the bedclothes up around her and smoothed them out careful not to waken her. He loved her so much. He had always loved her. He had loved from the first time he saw her. Claire and her family moved to town when they were both just children. John was in the eight grade and she was a grade younger.

The teacher gave her a seat up in front. John was in the back as he was one of the older children and a lot taller too. Claire took her seat and turned around, her eyes meeting John’s. She smiled and he smiled back. Claire sat and took off her bonnet and placed it on the seat next to her letting her hair fall softly around her shoulders. Her hair was the color of gold.

John thought she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. No other girl compared with her, not even Melinda Thompson who was the class beauty in her own right. Melinda looked at Claire and gave her a look. Claire smiled politely and returned her attention to the teacher. John saw this exchanged and smiled again. Melinda was no match for this new girl. It was then he knew he would marry Claire, even before they had ever spoken to each other. Before they had ever exchanged a single word.

After class, John left the school with William. They were both talking about the new girl. The pretty new girl. “Are you going to talk to her?” William asked. “Of course I am going to talk to her. In fact I am going to marry her.” John had made this rather sure statement. William thought they would never marry as the only girl for either of them was Melinda and Melinda only used them to her advantage. It would be only another five years that Melinda finally set her sites on William and they married.

William shook his head and pushed John in a friendship way. “That’s right, go on and ask her. Maybe she’ll even say yes.” William laughed and turned, walking into town to his job in John’s father’s store. John worked there also but he lingered outside the schoolhouse, waiting for the new girl.

William turned around to see if John was following but saw that he had not. “Better not take too long,” he said. “I am not stocking all those new supplies by myself.” In addition, with that he walked into the center of town and into the sunlight.

Claire has been exchanging names with several girls in the class. They all wanted to know all about her and where she was from and did she have any brothers or sisters and what her father did. They all accepted her warmly. That is all of them except Melinda who put up her nose when she passed by knocking into several of the smaller children.

Claire caught one small girl as she was knocked to the floor. “Are you all right?” she asked. The little girl, Emily Charles, was about seven years old and was missing her two front teeth. She nodded that she was all right with her toothless smile.

Claire and several of the girls walked out of the schoolhouse and into the afternoon sun. They all asked her where she lived and if they would walk together. It turned out that two of the girls were near Claire’s home and they decided to walk together. As they came down the steps, Claire saw John. He was tall and had dark hair and the bluest eyes she had ever seen.

“Hello”, she said as she passed him. The girls giggled and it made Claire blush.

John was able to get out “Hello” before he was lost in the crowd of younger students who ran by. “My name is John.” He shouted to her. He waited for her to turn around to acknowledge him and strained to see her through the mass of children.

Claire did not. She could not even if she wanted to. The giggling girls were all talking to her, filling her in on the local gossip and stories. Claire heard John but did not turn her head. She wanted to though.

John watched until she had turned the corner with the girls. He watched her as she walked away with her new friends. He waited for her to turn around to look at him. Just as she reached the corner building before she was completely out of sight she did turn and gave him a big smile. John laughed and returned a bigger grin. “See you tomorrow”, he called to her as he waved his arm high above his head. The girls all laughed as they disappeared around the corner.

John smiled all the way to his father’s store. He met William out front sweeping the steps. “I told your father you were asking the teacher a question about Arithmetic. That you stayed after.”

John patted William’s shoulder as he walked into the store and grabbed an apron and threw his books under the counter. He went straight to stocking the shelves his father told him to do the day before. “Thanks for the cover” he said as he passed by.

“She was so pretty, even then.” John realized he again had drifted off. The wind blew harshly against his face. He wanted to be with Claire. He wanted to be warm and with her. Here he was hundreds of miles away freezing to death slowly. It was the most horrible way to die he thought. A huge chunk of snow fell from the trench wall hitting him in the head mercifully sending him back to a dream state.

Chapter 2

The day was cold and but bright. Not a cloud in the sky. Claire could smell the wood burning in her kitchen. She could smell the aroma of bread baking in her stove. There were a few minutes before it would be done. She had checked on it just before coming outside to hang the wash.

There had not been any rain lately or snow. It was a mild winter here in Hammond, Virginia. Back home when she was a child, it was much colder and it snowed much more often. This was a dry winter so far. Claire carried the basket of freshly washed clothes out towards the line that was used to hang them to dry.

Claire knew the weather would not stay this way. There would have a storm or before long. Off in the distance the mountains had their share of fresh snowfall up in the higher elevations, she could see it from her bedroom window when she closed the shutters at night before going to bed. She bent over to pick up a blouse that was blue with vertical white stripes. She remembered how much John liked her in it. He called her a schoolteacher. Claire smiled thinking of him and his playful teasing. She missed him so much. They had only been married less than a year when John’s father was killed and then they sold the mercantile. Not long after that John went off to war along with half the men in town.

She remembered the day when John told her he was going to join up in the army. William and John had been out listening to tales of the spreading war and he came home late and smelled of barrel whiskey. William was far worse than John who only telltale sign of inebriation was his careful walking. Balancing his long lean body as not to sway or fall.

Claire was waiting up for him. She sat in the chair on the porch with a lit lantern by her side. Her body wrapped up in a large quilt that her sisters made for her and John when they were married. She pulled the quilt around her shutting off all openings to the cold winter night air around her body. She was worried about John. There had been talk in town about the Yankees burning down every town they came through and slaughtered the women and children that were left there unprotected, as all their men had gone off to war. Claire did not want to think of war. She did not want to think of anything that would spoil her life. Her life with John.

In the year since they were married, they had to deal with a lot of sorrow. John’s father’s death, the sale of the family business that John’s father and mother started and now the escalating war. It was getting closer and closer to their home and people were becoming more and more frightened with each bit of war news.

The money John received from the mercantile was split up between him and his two sisters; Mary and Sarah who were both married and had children. John’s mother had died when he was ten of small pox. John never spoke much of her, only that she was a very good, fair, even-tempered woman. Claire never asked too much as his eyes would well up and then he would have to make an excuse to leave the room to hide his sorrow.

John was a good man though, in spite of his mother gone when he was so young. His father raised him with the love of two parents and the values he wanted to instill in his family. Giving William money was the right thing to do. Making sure his best friend was rewarded for his many years of employment and loyalty to him and his family.

Mary lived in Evington and was married to Carl Ritter. They had three girls, Ely, Beth and Megan. Carl was a laborer for the railroads and traveled away from home for his work. Sometime weeks at a time. Often repairing the tracks that were blown up by the north. Mary took in sewing to support their income after Carl joined the army. Several months later both John and William joined.

Sarah was the oldest sister with John being the baby and Mary in between. She was raising her boy, Harrison to come into the family business one day just as she raised her younger sister and brother after her mother died. They lived not far from John, just over the ridge right out on the edge of town, next to the church. Sarah’s husband Emmett Smith was the pastor for their church. He was much older than Sarah and always sickly but always managed to make it to his sermon box every Sunday to expound gospel stories and to save the congregations’ poor unfortunate souls. In spite of his fire and brimstone approach to preaching, Emmett was good to Sarah and was a good father to Harrison.

Sarah also worked in the family business and her income was what really supported them all these years. A pastor’s salary was hardly enough for one person, let alone three. Her share of the money from the sale of the mercantile went into an investment in some land, which they in return sold again and made a good deal of profit. She would have gotten a job at the bank after setting up a trust account with the proceeds. She had much experience all those years with her father. They would live a comfortable life.

Claire was pinning the last piece of wash when she heard a wagon in the distance. Turning towards the road, she saw that it was Harrison, Sarah’s fourteen years old son. He was riding the horse and wagon hard and that was unusual for him. He was always a very timid young man who was on the quiet side, not very aggressive or loud.

Picking up the empty basket, she headed for the house and dropped it on the porch as she passed by. She met Harrison as he pulled to a stop.

“Aunt Claire, Mother says to come quick!” Harrison bolted from the wagon to help her on. “We have to hurry!”

“What are you talking about?” Claire had never seen him so anxious. “Is your father all right? Is it your father?” Claire thought that he had become ill or hurt himself.

“No, Father’s fine. Mother says you have to come quickly.” Harrison helped her onto the wagon and jumped up and over Sarah to get to the front. He looked white as a ghost.

“What is it Harrison? What has happened?” Claire pleaded with him to tell her. He only rode the horse harder as they sped off to his house. Claire could not get anything out of him. No matter what she asked, he kept silent. It was an unnerving ride. They hit several rocks in the road and she almost bounced off. Holding tightly on the railing she wished John were here.

Harrison managed a few words but did not make much sense. He was told not to say much by his mother, only that Claire should hurry on over. This was all so unsettling. Thoughts of Emmett and Sarah filled her mind. What could it be? She prayed for an answer.

The wagon took a sudden lurch to the right throwing Harrison into Claire. She held with both hands, which kept them from falling and tossed into the ravine that annexed the road.

“What ever it is, Harrison. Let us get there without any harm to either of us.” Claire was not much older than Harrison was. Perhaps just six-year’s difference. She looked at him and noticed that his face had seemed to age since the last time she had seen him. He looked more mature for some reason. Maybe the gravity of this situation had something to do with it. Maybe he had seen something that was a fright to him.

The sun was overhead now. She worried about her bread but knew that her help was there. Claire had taken in a Negro girl seven months ago. Her name was Eliza and she was a free slave. Just because the country was fighting over slavery, it did not mean everybody practiced it. She treated her well and paid her what she could. A warm house and hot meals gave her the security she only dreamed of. In addition, with John gone off to war, Eliza was a company to her. Someone to talk to, someone to be with. It was a lonely life for most of the women in town. Their husbands off fighting a war not heard from for months and in some cases over a year.

Emmylou Sutter did receive news of her husband. A letter came informing her that he was killed in an accident with a wagon carrying men. He had slipped off somehow and fell between the horses to his death, trampled under the wheels of the wagon.

Claire thought she was not too far from that same fate as Harrison took the horse to a full gallop. The steeple of the church came into view just below the road in front of them. If anything, they would be there very soon. However, each minute was like an hour. How long could they hold on and how long would it be for the horse to overexert itself and become lame?

The road turned into a clearing where they had their church socials every year. Because it was January, the ground was void of grass and flowers. Just bare spots of dirt and winter weeds. John had won the log-splitting contest when they were just courting at one of the church socials. She was so proud of him. That was the same year her mother had won the pie contest. Best pie for miles around.

She missed her parents. Her father had been a widower like John’s father but after her real mother died, he remarried and was she was really the only mother she knew of. She had loved her as much as anyone could love his or her mother.

Her parents moved after she and John married. After John’s father was killed. Her stepmother was extremely worried about it and wanted to go to a quieter place. A safer place. Claire’s father took her to Chelsea, South Carolina where he had land he and his wife could live on. Far away from any battles. She had received a letter from them every month since then like clockwork.

They had written for her to come out to stay with them while John was away but she could not leave her home. John had bought it from the Farrell’s, an elderly couple who moved to live with their son’s family in another town. She would wait for John to return and they would resume their life together.

The wagon pulled to an abrupt stop as they reached the little house next to the church. Oddly, no one was outside waiting for them. Claire knew that they would be heard with their approach.

Harrison jumped down first and offered his hand to Claire, which she took. He helped her down and they went up the steps to the house. Harrison stopped suddenly just before they reached the door.

“What is the matter, Harrison? Let us go in.” Claire waited for him to open the door or to move out of the way. He stood there facing the door with tears rolling down his face and was shaking. The little bit of color he had left was now completely gone leaving him even paler than the white of his shirt collar.

Claire asked him repeatedly no answer. She now walked past him, took the door handle, and turned it. Unexpectedly the door flew open from her hand and nearly pulled her arm out from her body. She was unprepared for this surprise. Claire regained her balance and started to tell who ever it was that she was indeed almost surely hurt by such an act.

Smoothing out her dress she turned to Harrison and then around to the open doorway. She expected to see Sarah or even Emmett standing there. Waiting to tell her whatever news they had. Instead of her sister-in-law and her husband, there stood a tall man. He was unshaven and dirty. His clothes were ragged and torn. A wound on his head was dressed but was bleeding through. Behind him were two more men, also in a bad state. The two men in back drew rifles and gun. The tall man in front held it at his side. It was then that Claire realized that they were wearing the uniforms of the enemy she had only heard of. The men were from the north. They were Yankees.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 16.01.2011

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