William Keener - Pearl and the Nigger

Andy’s thoughts now centered on his father, a tough, hard, but fair man who always had an answer for any situation and every problem. He couldn’t accept my indecision after college, but his snap decision sent me to Europe for a year. After my return, he couldn’t understand why I didn’t desire a position in his bank or to manage his mercantile agency. The argument ensued and ended in a lecture. Then placing his arm around Andy’s shoulder, he began to speak softly, “Son, there are some things that cannot be forced or reasoned out, but if left alone, they’ll work themselves out. There comes a time in the affairs of every man’s life when he cannot see which way to go. Force only serves to confuse and plunge him into darkness. If he will sit down and forget, in time, the answer will come of its own accord.”

The next day Andy enlisted in the Gray Dragoons, but he had remembered every word of the speech. Maybe it impressed him because his father was not a logical man.

Unaware of the time, he had wrestled with his thoughts. Suddenly, voices jolted him back into reality. He raised his head from his hands and peeped through the stairway newels, seeking the location of the voices. The library door was halfway open. Light was beaming out into the hallway. Surveying the semidark hallway, he saw it was clear. Silently, he slipped down the stairs until he positioned himself where he had a good view of the library room. Cautiously he lay down on the stairs, his body stretched perpendicular to the stairway. From this position, peering between the newels, his view through the half-open door was nearly as good as if he were in the room.

Andy smiled as he thought, What a stroke of good luck. There they were—Lee and Jackson—the right and left arm of the South, two great military geniuses, one on either side of the large library table. They were first standing, then walking or sitting, depending as to the importance of their discussion. They were engaged in a heart-to-heart talk from friend to friend.

Andy, peering directly into the room, etched into his mind a scene never to be forgotten. Yes, there they were—the two great generals whom the fate of the South depended on. Each had an athletic build and each was standing six feet or better, straight and dignified. Both wearing a uniform of spotless gray with a handsome sword and a sash. Yes, these two, so different yet so alike in their ability to lead and direct men. Jackson was direct, blunt, decisive—a dynamic force that knew no fear and believed that he could do whatever he desired to do. Lee was suave, reserved, polished—a typical gentleman of the old South.

Andy asked himself, “Why had they come here? They were elated over their victory at Bull Run, but both seemed despondent and discouraged. Was it because Lee had evacuated Western Virginia? Yes, yes—yes—that was it. The press had already nicknamed Lee Evacuation Lee, and Jackson was disappointed and humiliated that his own people—the people of Western Virginia—had proved disloyal to him and the South. So they were here to discuss the fortunes of war.”

Andy’s thoughts were interrupted when he heard Jackson speak. “Robert, without a shadow of a doubt I could have captured Washington. With ten thousand fresh troops, we had them and even more, but they wouldn’t let me. Davis wouldn’t let me. You understand, Robert! Davis wouldn’t permit me to take Washington.” He sprang to his feet, marched around the table, jaw set, his blue eyes flashing fire. He halted in front of Lee and crashed his clenched fist down on the table, saying once again, “Robert, Jefferson Davis would not let me continue into the city. I still pray that our Heavenly Father gives us victory. But if the war is lost, we lost it the day after Bull Run.”

General Lee did not move. He sat there, on the opposite side of the table, maintaining the dignified composure that was always his. The Gray Dragoon from his position was looking directly into his handsome face, slightly reddened under the wealth of iron-gray hair that so distinguished him. His hazel-brown eyes gave forth a radiant expression of kindness. For a moment Andy was moved with such admiration; he felt like rushing forth, asking forgiveness for his thoughts of escaping.

“Tom, anyone can make a mistake,” replied Lee. “There will be many more before this war is over.”

“I agree. There will be errors,” avowed Jackson. “But the way and hour was clear. Everyone knew it. My men begged that we push forth and take the city. I could only tell them that our president would not permit us to go any farther. I prayed for God to give us the opportunity. He appointed the hour, and, General, we failed to take advantage of His answer. I am sure as I sit here before you this night, God gave us the opportunity the next day because McDowell’s army broke and ran back to Washington in a complete rout. They were panic-stricken. Thousands threw down their arms. Hundreds deserted and hundreds waited to surrender. They were in utter discord, dirty, ragged, hungry, exhausted, and half of them without arms. I could have taken the city, the next day, without a struggle.”

“Robert, think what it would have meant. It would have discouraged and depressed the entire North. I’m sure Maryland would have been our ally, an’—an’—and Kentucky and Missouri would have joined us. I know most of the people in Western Virginia would have stayed on our side.”

He brought his clenched fist down once again on the table, sprang to his feet, and began pacing back and forth in front of the table. He stopped at the end of the room, standing as if at attention, and peered out the window into the darkness.

A few moments of silence engulfed the room before Lee answered.

“Tom,” he began. “A great general has the instinct or knack for knowing the situation of his enemy and somehow pretty well knows what will happen before he attacks. When we were in Mexico, you displayed the uncanny wisdom and always had our next move figured out long before anyone else. I have no doubt that you’re right in your assessment now. You were there. You knew the conditions, but I am not sure that your assumption that the North would have collapsed is a true picture. Tom, be reasonable. I agree. Taking their capitol would have been a stunning blow. I agree. If it had been followed up with the sufficient forces and momentum, that may have won the war. But, Tom, could we have backed it up? I am convinced, if you had taken the city, they would have been determined to do everything in their power to drive us out. They have unlimited resources and men. They would have redoubled their effort and we would have had to prepare for a long and bloody battle. What if we had wavered?”

“Wavered?” exclaimed Jackson, wheeling around, facing Lee from his position in front of the window. “That is exactly what we did. We wavered—we did not make a halfhearted effort to follow the crushing blow rendered to our enemy at Bull Run. Now the whole North is aroused. Lincoln has called for a half million volunteers. They will be coming. Yes, they will be coming—from Western Virginia, Missouri, Kentucky, an-an-and other states will follow.”

“Robert, there are two ways to win a war. One is by delaying and wearing down the process. We are the ones wearing down. Look at the area we have seceded. The other is to hit the enemy where it hurts and before he is ready for battle and then pound—pound the life out of him before he can recover. That is what I wanted to do at Bull Run.”

“Tom, I know you are right, and generally you were right in the past,” replied Lee.

“Jeff Davis held me back.” Ignoring Lee’s compliment, Jackson continued, “He may be a good president, but he doesn’t know anything about fighting a war. The result of his decision is that the North is beginning to gather a huge force to unleash against us. Our men have been inactive for weeks. Lying in camp, they have become discouraged, disappointed, and many are ill with the fever. They have dwindled away by going on furloughs and just plain quit because their enlistment has expired or they have deserted. Some leaving because they feel the war is nearly over.