Let There Be Light (20 page)

“Oh yes! Thank you, Emma. This will have me thawed out in a minute.” Jenny sipped gratefully as she watched Emma fill a mug for her husband and hurry away. She set the cup down, took off her coat and scarf, and carried them to the pegs on the wall behind the counter. She straightened the heavy sweater that she had worn under her coat and welcomed the warmth it gave her.

Emma was back shortly, and when she returned, Jenny was at the stove again, sipping her coffee. “This sure hits the spot.”

“I’m having some right now, myself.” Emma filled her own mug, then the two women discussed President Lincoln’s latest comments about the soon end of the War. They drained their mugs just in time to open the store. Jenny went to the window, flipped the closed sign to the other side, and in less than two minutes, customers were filing in.

At midmorning Jenny was at the counter alone, waiting on a customer, when she saw the door open and two young women come in. Laura Denton and Shirley Atwood were in her high school graduating class. She liked both of them, but was a bit cautious of them because they were born-again Christians and talked a lot about Jesus Christ, the Bible, and their church.

Jenny looked past her customer and smiled. “Hello, Laura. Hello, Shirley. Nice to see you.”

Smiling back, both young women greeted her warmly, unbuttoned their coats, and headed toward the long rows of shelves to find the items they had come to purchase.

Jenny finished with her customer and another came to the counter, carrying groceries in a hand basket. She had just finished with that person when Laura and Shirley approached the counter with their goods.

“Some snow we got, huh?” said Jenny.

“Enough,” said Shirley with a giggle.

Jenny totaled the bills separately, and when they had paid her, she began bagging the items. While she was doing so, she and the girls talked about the War and President Lincoln’s messages with the prediction that the Confederacy would surrender within a few months.

Jenny filled the final paper bag, and with a trace of sadness in her eyes, she slid it toward Laura. “I’m glad your fathers weren’t allowed in the army when the War broke out. It’s really difficult having my father in the War, with no way of communication. Mama is having serious depression problems with him gone, not knowing whether he is dead or alive. It’s pretty rough on me too. I’m so worried that Papa may never come home, and that Mama is going to completely lose her mind if he doesn’t.”

Laura reached across the counter and squeezed Jenny’s hand. “My heart goes out to you with this load on your shoulders, Jenny. I’m sure your mother’s depression problem is having an awful effect on you, let alone the load you carry about your father being in danger on some battlefield in the South.”

Jenny’s lower lip quivered. “It’s pretty hard.”

“We’re so sorry, Jenny,” said Shirley, leaning close and patting her other hand. “I wish this didn’t have to be.”

Laura squeezed Jenny’s hand again. “Honey, if you and your mother had Jesus in your hearts and lives, He would give you peace and comfort that no one else can.”

Shirley nodded. “That peace and comfort would not only be yours concerning your father’s state in the War, but concerning your own eternal destiny. We love you and your mother, but it’s heaven or hell, Jenny, depending on what you do with Jesus Christ. He is the only one who can cleanse your sins, forgive them, and give you a place in heaven. If you will open your heart to Him, you’ll be in heaven forever. But if you don’t, it’s eternity in hell.”

“Both of you have talked to me about this several times at school, and as I told you each time, this being born again and washed in the blood doesn’t make sense to me,” Jenny said, frowning. “I just can’t see it.”

“The reason you can’t see it is because Satan has you blinded. The Bible says so. Shirley and I have given you the gospel over and over. If you would just let the gospel light shine into your spiritual darkness, you would see it and be saved. Both of us had to do this, as has every person who has become a child of God by the new birth. Every human being comes into the world blinded spiritually by the devil. If you would believe the gospel and open your heart to Jesus, you would have God’s guarantee of heaven when you die, and while going through life here on earth, you would have God’s peace that passes all understanding.”

Jenny noted that other customers were standing in line for service.

She looked past Laura and Shirley, then smiled weakly. “Thanks for shopping here, ladies. It was nice to see you.”

Laura and Shirley exchanged glances, picked up their packages, and stepped aside. “We’ll be praying for you, honey,” Laura said.

“We sure will,” Shirley assured her.

Jenny afforded them another faint smile, then started adding up the bill for the next customer.

On Tuesday morning, February 5, at Andersonville Prison Camp, Sergeant Dan Tyler was at the gate in conversation with the two
guards in the tower when they saw an army unit coming toward them from the north. The Confederate flag they were carrying was flapping in the breeze.

“Who do you suppose that is?” said Corporal Alan Fleming, focusing on the ten men on horseback.

“Looks like the kind of unit that makes up an escort for an important military leader,” said Corporal Jerry Weston.

Dan Tyler nodded. “We’ll soon find out. I’ll wait. If it’s somebody who wants to see the captain, I’ll escort them to his cabin.”

Moments later, the riders drew up to the gate. Alan Fleming said from the side of his mouth, “From the insignias on the shoulders of the man on the gray roan, he’s a general.”

“You’re the number-one gate man at the moment,” said Tyler. “Find out who he is and what he wants.”

Fleming stepped to the railing and raised his voice so he could be heard. “Yes, sir, General? What can we do for you?”

The silver-haired man with the droopy mustache replied, “I’m General Stewart Morrison from Fort Benning up by Columbus. I’m on my way down to the army post at Palmyra near Albany. Since we had to pass close by here on the way, I thought I’d stop and spend a few minutes with my old friend, Captain Henry Wirz. Is he here?”

“He is, sir.”

Dan stepped up beside Fleming and looked down at Morrison. “General, I’m Sergeant Dan Tyler. I’ll escort you to the captain’s quarters.”

“Much obliged, Sergeant.”

Moments later, the men in the escort unit were being taken to the mess hall while Dan Tyler led General Morrison up to the captain’s cabin and knocked on the door.

“Enter!” came Wirz’s voice.

Dan opened the door. “Captain, I have General Stewart Morrison. He would like to see you.”

Wirz sprang from the chair behind his desk. “Stew! … I mean—”

“It’s all right, Captain,” said Dan. “He told me you were old friends. I won’t tell anybody you called him Stew.”

Both officers laughed.

Wirz and Morrison shook hands, then Morrison said, “Henry, I can only stay a few minutes. I’m on my way down to the army post at Palmyra. Just thought I’d stop for a few minutes.”

“Could you stay for lunch?”

“Sorry, no. Sergeant Tyler was kind enough to let my men grab some coffee while I’m visiting you. But when I say a few minutes, I mean no more than thirty of them.”

Wirz nodded. “All right. Then we’ll make do with a half hour’s chat. I’ve got some coffee on the stove. Want some?”

“Sure.”

Wirz set his gaze on Tyler, who was about to back out the door. “Sergeant, when General Morrison leaves, I need you to have Lieutenant Edgar Toomey brought to me. I’ve got to have a talk with him.”

“I understand, sir. I’ll watch for General Morrison to leave, then I’ll have Corporals Holden and Stevens bring him to you.” With that, Dan stepped out and closed the door.

Wirz gestured to an overstuffed chair near the potbellied stove. “Have a seat, Stew.”

Wirz poured coffee for both of them and sat down, facing his friend.

They chatted about the early days in the Civil War when they served in the same regiment together, then Wirz asked, “So what’s your trip to Palmyra about?”

“The condition of the Confederacy.”

Wirz’s eyebrows arched. “You mean in light of what Lincoln is telling everybody up North?”

“Yes. The morale of our troops is falling quickly because they can see what Lincoln sees. I received a dispatch from General Robert E. Lee, asking me to meet with General P. G. Beauregard at Palmyra. We have to find a way to encourage the troops.”

Wirz sighed. “And how are you going to do that, Stew? Lie?”

Morrison shook his head, stared at the floor a moment, then raised his eyes to Wirz. “That’s about it. Ever since the Confederate currency was devaluated in October of ’63, things have gotten worse financially. You’ve seen it. I know the problem you’re having here with prisoners starving to death because you don’t have enough food
to feed them. And I’ve noticed that some of your guards are looking pretty thin too.”

“It’s been bad. I won’t try to kid you. Our food allotment from the government is pretty small. First and foremost, the guards have to have food. So with the prisoners getting less to eat, more and more of them are coming down with scurvy because of the lack of proper nourishment. The only thing that’s helping the food problem right now is that so many of the prisoners are dying from pneumonia brought on by exposure to the winter weather. We don’t have shelter for most of the men, and they’re dying like flies. Infections are killing them fast too. With the unsanitary conditions brought on because we have no soap for the prisoners to use when they bathe or wash their clothes, nor do we have disinfectants to kill the germs in their areas, they’re dying right now at the rate of over seventy a day. Other than pneumonia, scurvy is killing most of them.”

Morrison sighed. “The reputation of this place is known far and wide.”

“Yeah, I know. It isn’t because we want it this way, but when they give me over thirty thousand prisoners to feed and try to keep alive, but don’t provide enough food and medicine, it gets disastrous.”

“I know that, Henry. The Confederacy is just about broke. We’re running out of gunpowder and bullets, as well as cannonballs. Soon we’ll have to fight those Yankees with knives, bayonets, clubs, and fists.”

Wirz was squeezing his hands together until the knuckles were white. “Stew, we’re done for, aren’t we?”

Morrison drew a shaky breath and let it out slowly through his nose. “General Beauregard and I can’t let on to our men that it’s this bad, as can none of the other Confederate military leaders, but yes … we’re done for. Lincoln knows this. That’s why he can be so encouraging to the people up North and to the Union Army. It’s just a matter of time. As you know, Lincoln is predicting the Confederate forces will collapse by June or July, but he’s being generous. I’d say we might have till the first part of April at best.”

Wirz’s features were pale. “Well, I guess all we can do at this point is to keep doing our jobs as best we can.”

Morrison stood up. “That’s about it. Well, Henry, I’ve got to get going. It’s been nice seeing you.”

Wirz walked the general to the gate where the other men of the unit were waiting for him. They mounted and rode out. By the time Wirz reached his cabin, Corporals Clay Holden and Joel Stevens were on the porch with a sullen Edgar Toomey between them.

Toomey regarded Wirz with a dull look as he drew up, opened the door, and said, “Inside.”

Wirz sat down at his desk, and Toomey was made to sit on the wooden chair in front of it while the corporals stood flanking him.

The captain’s eyes were hard as he looked at Toomey across the desk. “I’m sick and tired of your attitude toward Sergeant Dan Tyler, Toomey. This is going to change, or you’re going to face discipline that’ll make you wish you were never born.”

Toomey’s jaw jutted. “I haven’t laid a hand on him since that day back in November when I tried to choke him with my wrist chains.”

“I know, but I’m getting daily reports from the other guards that you are pouring out verbal abuse to him continually. Now I want it stopped.”

“Tyler hasn’t tattled on me?”

“No. It’s the other guards who have told me. And when I allowed your chains to be removed a month ago, it was the other guards who told you that I did it at Sergeant Tyler’s request. He didn’t tell you himself, did he?”

Toomey cleared his throat. “Well, no. He didn’t.”

Wirz frowned. “Don’t you have an ounce of appreciation in you? I’d think you would want to thank him.”

Toomey’s eyes were wintry. “He just did it to make himself look good to you and the other guards. You know, like he was a saint or somethin’. I don’t like him.”

“Well, you’d better give it a try.”

“Certainly there can’t be a rule at this pig sty you call a prison camp, forcin’ the prisoners to like all these Rebel guards.”

Wirz looked at him silently.

“Well, is there such a rule, Captain Wirz?” demanded Toomey. “If so, I’d like to see it in writin’.”

“Of course there is no such written rule, and I can’t force you to
like Sergeant Tyler, but you can keep it to yourself and quit being insolent to him. This isn’t a request, Lieutenant Toomey. It’s a command. Break it once more, and you’ll wish you were never born.”

Toomey didn’t like the look in Wirz’s eyes. “All right, Captain, I’ll keep my hatred for Tyler to mys—”

“Sergeant
Tyler,” corrected Wirz with a rasp in his voice.

Toomey cleared his throat. “I’ll keep my hatred for
Sergeant
Tyler to myself.”

“You’d better mean it. No more warnings.”

Toomey nodded. “I got it.”

Wirz looked up at the men who flanked the prisoner. “Get him out of here.”

Holden and Stevens ushered Toomey out the door and while they were walking toward Toomey’s area, Stevens said, “You’d better heed what Captain Wirz said, mister. I’ve seen the captain get angry at insolent prisoners before. You don’t want to find out the hard way just how mean he can get.”

Toomey did not reply.

“Did you ever find out that Captain Wirz had once ordered you to be shot by a firing squad?” said Holden.