The Journal
May 13, 1861
Pow,
We have been informed that we are leaving Bangor for New York in the morning. The boys are about as nervous as a coop of hens with a fox in it. I have no doubt that in the coming months we will see our first bout of fighting. Mylo thinks I am a fool while Claggor believes the same as me.
I cannot help but feel some excitement at the prospect of seeing the lands beyond Maine. While I love our glorious state and all the beautiful wonders she holds, I find myself imagining what lies beyond her borders. Some of the boys in the unit have told us stories of their visits to places such as Boston and New York City. When I return, we should visit them. I believe you would quite like the hustle bustle they supposedly house.
I trust that Vander is doing well. I’m sure he was quite upset when he realized I was gone, but surely, he will grow to understand my reasoning. I just could not in good conscience watch my brothers join up for the cause and not follow them.
I do not know where this fight will take me, but I promise no matter where it is I will fight with all my might so that I may return home. Please promise to take care of yourself. I know how you get. I’ll write again soon.
Always,
V
Caitlyn sat at the soldier’s bedside throughout the night, reading through the journal while monitoring the patient for her father. Tobias had asked her to take the first shift, wanting someone there in the event the woman woke up and once again flew into a fury of confusion.
Rather early in her reading, Caitlyn learned the soldier had indeed left people, and at least one important person, behind. She’d also discovered the woman was from Maine, a state that Caitlyn had never visited but heard quite a few tales about. Supposedly it was filled with wooded wilderness inland and bordered by gorgeous coastlines. A man her father had known during his time at war had visited their home from Maine and told her about a place where when the sun set the waters of the ocean looked like liquid gold.
Occasionally, Caitlyn would pause in between entries and watch the rise and fall of the women’s chest, ensuring she was still breathing. The sound became a soothing lullaby that allowed Caitlyn to find the tranquility she so desperately longed for. It was the most at peace she’d been since May.
When Charles had joined up, Caitlyn had returned home to live with her parents until either the war finished, or Charles came home. Tobias didn’t want his extremely pregnant daughter left alone with no one there to help bring the baby into the world. After Charlotte was born, since she was readily available, Caitlyn started assisting her father at his practice. She was still healing from giving birth when he traveled to Bull Run for the first time to tend to soldiers. When the armies clashed there a second time, Caitlyn jumped at the opportunity to escape their memory filled home. Instead of the once glorious, happy memories, the walls now seemed to only hold nightmares for her.
May 28, 1861
Pow,
Today our unit was officially mustered into service. I now belong to the Union Army officially for the next three years. Don’t tell Mylo and Clagg, but I signed up for an extra year. The thought of ending my fulfillment and the war continuing without me doesn’t seem right. If these damned rebels want to claim their freedom is so important yet refuse to acknowledge the fact they treat slaves as though they are dogs then I will fight until the last one of them lay bloodied on the battlefield or I take my last breath in this world.
I fear what will happen if we lose this war, Pow. A victory for the seceded states may only initially give them the satisfaction they want. What is to say they will not decide later to invade our home. Down-easters deserve to remain free of the trials that will arise should the south get so brazen.
We head to Washington day after tomorrow so I am unsure when I will have time to write again. So much damn walking. I swear I wish I could just get on a boat and travel. Alas, I’m an infantry soldier and we walk.
Give Vander a hug for me.
Always,
V
Caitlyn knows she should be offended by the woman’s obvious disdain for southern soldiers, but she’s not. She understands. The Kirammans had owned slaves not that long ago but set them free and opted to hire them to work around the house instead. There were only two, Douglas and Ethel. Douglas tended to the outside of the house while Ethel handled everything inside. They were paid reasonable wages and protected by the Kirammans, whose name carried a great deal of weight in the region thanks to Caitlyn’s mother.
Cassandra’s father had been a hero during the war of 1812 and settled in Fredericksburg not long after. His political savvy helped garner public respect for his family. They were wealthy, due to old money that could be traced back to England. The family had invested well and managed their finances as though they were strategizing for war. When Cassandra married Tobias, the family name might have been lost but the family reputation was not. His close relationship with the Confederate elite also garnered them appreciation in the region. It was all about who they were and who they knew. Caitlyn hated it.
That’s why she ended up with Charles. He’d come from another well-respected family in the area. The Carver’s owned a large tobacco plantation outside Spotsylvania Courthouse. His father had arranged with Caitlyn’s mother for the two to meet and eventually court. They were married within six months. She was pregnant two months later. Ever the dutiful daughter and wife.
“Keep our legacy alive, my dear.”
She had a girl, and she still remembers the disappointment in her dead husband’s face. If only she’d known then he was sleeping with women at every brothel he’d pass. Thank God for Jayce, her closest friend. He’d told her everything. He too had joined the Calvary unit when the call had come to fight the north. It was incredibly hard not having him nearby when everything happened, but she pushed on.
“Wonder how many little legacies Charles has running around.” A sour taste tinges her tongue as she says the words allowed. She hated feeling used and the feeling had only gotten worse since May.
“Caitlyn, why don’t you head to bed. I’ll stay up with our patient for a bit.” Tobias chimed in to her thoughts as her entered the room. His words helped return his daughter to the scene in front of her. Something told her that she needed stay. Something told her that she wanted to stay. Yet she could see her father’s concern when he entered the room by candlelight. Instead of arguing she nodded, acknowledging his offer and retired to her bedroom.
“I would like to attempt to wake her in the morning if you would be so kind as to assist me, daughter.” How sounds almost hopefully that things will go smooth. “It seems you have quite the touch to aid in calming our guest here down.”
Caitlyn couldn’t help but smile, thinking of how gently she’d stroked the soldier’s cheek to recenter her and ease her fears. “I most certainly will help you wake, Violet.”
Tobias raised an eyebrow, surprised that his daughter called the woman by name. “Violet, you say? Such a lovely name. Have you gained any additional information that might aid.”
“She’s from Maine. Unfortunately, I haven’t learned from where in the state exactly just yet. She writes almost daily in this journal.” She holds up the leather-bound notebook, presenting the artifact to her father. “She writes to someone named Pow and reflects on another individual named Vander.”
Her father hums to himself, placing an upright index find under his nose and against his lip. Caitlyn recognized it as his thinking face. Any time she would find her father deep in thought or analyzing a problem, he would present such a hand gesture attached to his face. “Perhaps a husband and son?”
Caitlyn frowns, unsure exactly why the thought displeases her so much. “Perhaps, but I’m not sure. I plan on reading further. Maybe I will garner the information.”
“See if you can. The more we know about her the more we can put her at ease once she’s awake.”
“Or aid us in the event she doesn’t make it.”
The gentleman huffs out a puff of air. “I spoke out of turn earlier. I apologize. I should know better than to instantly jump to the worst case with you.”
She’s not sure when it formed, but Caitlyn feels a single tear fall from her eye. “It’s alright. It’s usually warranted. Fetch me if she awakes and you need assistance.” Caitlyn hugs the leatherbound notebook to her chest and retreats to her bedroom.
July 17, 1861
We are advancing forward from Falls Church, Virginia to Manassas, Virginia. I feel like such a stranger in these lands that we march through. What once seemed like such a wonderful prospect (seeing the world beyond Maine), now seems like a self-imposed hell as I find myself missing home more and more each day.
This land is nothing like the coasts of Maine. Though the trees are thick and the rivers wide, nothing compares to the beauty of Bar Harbor at sunrise. I often find myself waking early to watch the sun rise over the mountains that surround us but cannot help but miss the way the morning sun shimmers off the ocean as it greets me for another day.
I miss the salty sea air that fills the lungs as you walk around town. The excited sound of the fishermen setting sail with hopes of coming home with a bountiful harvest of the sea is a sound I long to hear. There’s just something to be said about our home. I doubt I would ever find anything here that can compare.
We no doubt are marching toward our first major battle. You can feel the excitement in the boys grow with every step closer we take to the Confederates. Mylo is scared beyond belief. The panic in his voice when he speaks of fighting is undeniable. Claggor is his usual steady self. I am unsure exactly how he feels regarding the impending battle, but I imagine deep down he is nervous. I cannot tell you exactly how I feel. The thought of taking the life of another human makes me uneasy but knowing that I do so to protect you and our family is what drives me. I would rather die than let something happen to one of you.
I do not know how I will feel the first time it registers that my rifle will take the life of another, but I supposed that will be an act that I will have to rectify with God one day. Only he can truly judge my actions.
I do not fear death. I fear suffering. I only pray that if death comes for me, she is beautiful and does not let me suffer.
Stay well. Know that I think of you and Vander quite often. It is your faces that will keep me fighting one we reach the battlefield.
Love always,
V