The long walk home.
By. Dean Good.
As the sun rose over the mountains all was quiet and still. The sound of canons and rifles no longer rang out across the countryside. I lay there wide awake on my bed roll listening to the company flag flapping in the wind. I was waiting for the unmistakable sound of our artillery firing it’s first volley at the Rebs.
My company is the 18th New York had been marching for the last three days towards Appomattox court house. We had only arrived yesterday evening at twilight. As I laid there staring at the rain stained canvas of my old tent, it was hard to believe that the war was going to be over in a few hours after four bloody years of fighting.
I rolled over onto my stomach and folded my arm under my head. I had just closed my eyes when my friend, Sergeant Major Shamus O’Hara stuck his head into the tent.
“Time to get up laddy.”
“Ok, Sergeant.”
“Come on now, Davey boy. You don’t want to miss seeing the Reb General do ya?”
“No, I don’t Sergeant.”
“Well then get yourself up.”
I rolled over and sat up grabbing my boots in the process. I stuffed my feet into my boots and got up onto my feet. As I started to walk towards the entrance of the tent. I was stopped by the hulking figure of Sergeant O’Hara. When I looked up at him he was staring at me.
“What Sergeant?”
“Didn’t you forget something, Davey boy?”
“I…”
“Your not out of the Army yet laddy.”
Then after a couple of seconds it occurred to me what Sergeant O‘Hara was talking about. After four years of carrying it day after day how could I have so easily forgotten it. I turned and walked over to the far corner of my tent and picked up my drum and sticks. Sergeant O’Hara stuck out his hand and took my drum and sticks from me while I buttoned my faded blue jacket with the dull brass buttons.
As I slid each brass button through the hole on the opposing side of my jacket. I remembered the day I received my uniform the brass buttons were so shinny that they shined like diamonds in the sun. The blue of the uniform jacket was as blue as the bluest seas. Where as the pants were blue like the sky. The leather of my boots was so stiff and hard that they hurt my feet when I walked in them.
As the top button slid through the matching hole on very top on the opposing side. I could see my sweet mothers face as she burst into tears. As I walked through the front door of our home dressed in my union blue uniform. The thought of her baby of twelve years going off to war as a drummer for the union army was too much for her. That was four years ago to the day and now I was a man. In the last four years I had seen more destruction and devastation then any child of twelve should have to see.
