The Georgia Peach Pt. 01

The Georgia Peach - A Story of the American Civil War.

"Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth, upon this continent, a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war ..."

From The Gettysburg Address, Abraham Lincoln - November 19, 1863

By May 1864 the War Between the States had been wreaking its devastating havoc for over three interminable years. With an election looming Lincoln was under immense pressure to cease hostilities and the South were ready to accept a peace which allowed them to retain their way of life. But that would not happen. The President had appointed new Generals and given then an open mandate to end the war.

Generals Ulysses S. Grant and William T. Sherman were to lead the Union army to victory by engaging in a strategy of 'all-out war'. The core of this plan was to 'scorch the earth' across the heart of the Southern States, a plan that would eventually deliver a devastating impact throughout the whole of Georgia.

But on the 11th May 1864, Sherman was camped high above the banks of the Oostanuala river, readying his troops for the inevitable, impending confrontation with Joe Johnston's Confederate army. He was already planning to replace his established, but potentially vulnerable, supply lines with a 'foraging' process that would see the Union soldiers living from whatever the Georgia land had to offer.

Foraging Groups, colloquially referred to as 'Bummers', raided plantations, with crops and livestock being subjected to widespread confiscation and/or destruction. Such raids were not without their misdemeanours ...

This story contains an account of one such foraging raid on White Orchard Mansion, a raid that took place on the 11th May 1864. White Orchard Plantation had been the home of Colonel and Mrs John McCown, until their untimely deaths had been brought about by the War and Pneumonia respectively. The small slave stock and the large estate were now managed solely by their young daughter, Catherine ...

Chapter 1 - On the banks of the Oostanuala, May 11th 1864

It was a high rock face, overlooking the dark violence of the swollen Oostanaula river. He sat alone, watching as the early morning arrivals broke ranks and the columns began to disperse in the steady rain preparing to make camp. He felt the coolness run down his neck, the water soaking every part of him, his hat, his clothes, taking the grime and dust with it. A vast sea of mud surrounded them all.

The river was rising again, and was already well beyond their ability to ford, as they might have done before the rains. Now, it was angry and swirling. In the early gloom, the motion accentuated by the small fires that lined the riverbank, a flickering protest to the misery of the weather, the only guiding light the men would have to reach the crossing.

"Good morning Sergeant," said a sleepy General Sherman, "What news have you brought for me today?"

"Mornin' Gen'ral. I only deliver the news Sir, I don't read it," replied the Sergeant, maintaining an unnecessary diligence.

The General looked at the man, a 'Bummer', part of the newly formed foraging troop. He nodded, smiled, acknowledged the departing courier and opened the dispatch.

It was not what he had expected to read, not at all.

It was from Lieutenant Evans Sampson of Logan's XV Corp. Evans was in charge of a foraging party, but why was he bothering Sherman with details such as this. All of his army now deployed foragers, or 'Bummers' as they had been newly termed. He himself had sanctioned the practice. As his army marched into Georgia, although Sherman still had his supply line back to Chattanooga, he needed to reduce his reliance on it and use the natural land to make his army more mobile. So why had Sampson not contacted his commanding officer directly if he had a problem ...

... Sherman read on.

"General, Sir, please let me apologise for bringing this matter to your personal attention. In any other context it would be considered incidental but I felt compelled to write you directly when the chief inhabitant of the residence we are in mentioned your name in her defence ..."

Chapter 2 - White Orchard Plantation, May 11th 1864

"You do not have to lock nor guard the door Lieutenant; it is my house and I will say what does and does not happen inside its walls."

Sampson appraised the girl, his gaze moving slowly from her dainty ankle, clad in white silk and exposed just a little above her slipper, to her slender waist and rising bosom pressed tightly to her person by the fashionable crinoline and boned corset underneath the faded peach dress that she wore. Despite the garment being a little careworn, a clear sign of the times, the girl could still be considered beautiful by any man's standards, especially one who had not enjoyed the company of any woman, never mind a beautiful one, for some time.

As a final and parting imposition he increased the intensity of his stare, assessing her shape, her looks ... every delicate feature perfectly formed from her slightly button nose, to her wide long-lashed eyes and high cheeks bones.

The girl, through the curtain of long dark hair that framed her face, returned his scrutiny with a glare of her own. Her expression of reproach reflected the steely determination that had enabled her to persevere through the deaths of both of her parents, and, despite the ever-increasing gravity of these present times, to maintain at least some semblance of normality at White Orchard.

Catherine McCown was only too aware of the generous helping of time that this junior officer allowed his gaze to dwell on her person and it made her uneasy.

"It is for your own protection Miss that I have your room secured. It keeps my men out as well as keeping you in."

She shivered at his words. Why on earth would he need to concern himself about keeping his own men out of her boudoir? Were they savages?

As he turned to leave, pulling the double doors of Miss McCown's bedchamber closed, she shouted after him in a most unladylike manner.

"And you make sure that the General receives my message."

Uncle Billy would sort this misunderstanding out, she just knew he would. 'Uncle Billy' was the esteemed General William Tecumseh Sherman, her Godfather, best friend and erstwhile colleague of her late father. Colonel John McCown, had been killed in gallant action at Shiloh Church back in April of '62, fighting on the opposing side to Uncle Billy.

They had been West Point Graduates together, class of '40, before she was even born. Since her father's much-lamented death Catherine had lived on the plantation at White Orchard with a handful of slaves and her Mama, until Pneumonia had taken her too just a few months ago.

She knew that living here on her own, a young girl barely out of her teenage years, with only a handful of slaves for company, was dangerous, especially with the war getting ever closer. But where else would she go?

That goddamned seditionist Lincoln had 'freed' the slaves back in '62, any many had run away from White Orchard just as they did from all of the neighbouring plantations. But some didn't, and the few that were eventually re-caught and punished served as a warning to others thinking of doing the same. Back then her daddy had warned the negroes that there was no better life, and they should not consider themselves freemen. But now the only slaves that remained were those who had been here so long they had no idea where else to go, or those that lacked the courage to attempt to run. The situation with the slaves was as big a mess as everything else was right now.

Uncle Billy would help her, she was certain of it.

The exasperated Lieutenant took a moment as he stopped outside the girl's bedroom doors. His hand tightly gripped the door knobs which he had closed behind himself.

Did she really want him to write to the General? He couldn't do that, could he? But what if what she said was true and he ignored her request. What if she really did know the General ... more than that, she said he was her Godfather.

With a resigned sigh he called for Sergeant Oaks. He needed to dictate a message.

Chapter 3 - On the banks of the Oostanuala, May 11th 1864

Sherman had finished his breakfast, bacon and flour biscuits made with the fat. He never ceased to be amazed at what the privations of war caused him to appreciate. In his pre-war time at the at the Academy in Louisiana, such a meal would have been unthinkable, never mind enjoyable, but now ...

"I will be back later Lew," he addressed his Aide-de-camp in personable terms. Lieutenant Colonel Lewis Mulford Dayton had been with Sherman since the beginning of the war and enjoyed the private ear of his commanding officer.

"Sir, Johnston's army is massing and heading for Resaca, we need to cross the river and steal the high ground, or ..."

"Yes, yes Lew, I'm well aware of our needs, and rest assured they will be attended to. But for now, I have troubles of a more personal nature to look into." Sherman looked the other officer in the eye and Dayton knew that was to be the end of the matter.

"It would be quicker by horse, Sir," the head of his quickly assembled three-man entourage said in an attempt to encourage the General to fulfil whatever these private obligations were with full haste.

Sherman fixed the trooper with a stare, "Two days ago several of our own men were found hanged just a mile or so from here. I have the report from that unsavoury event to review Captain, and so we will travel by coach, that way I can make better use of my time."

The previous day had brought a report of four Union Bummers found hanged over by the Pine Road. This place was teeming with Reb guerrilla's, and Sherman needed to do something about it. He would have Kilpatrick deploy a unit or two of his cavalry, to clear them out of this vicinity.

But that would have to wait just a little while.

The cold, hard rain pelted the driver of the horse-drawn covered carriage as an angry wind added to the man's misery. Inside the cabin sat Sherman and his guard.

"Signal a left here," Sherman issued his instructions so that the driver could be kept on track. White Orchard Mansions held many happy memories for the General, but none of them recent. Catherine would have been no more than fifteen when he last visited, and even back then she was already blossoming into a beautiful Southern Belle ... a Georgia Peach, her father used to say ... he was looking forward to seeing her again.

From where the army was camped, it was only a short distance to the White Orchard Plantation and Farm but he was grateful for the small escort. Times were uncertain these dark days, but even more so when two armies faced each other as closely as Joe Johnston's was with his now.

The coach slowed to a halt, which was more than the driving rain was doing, as the General and his team disembarked to be met by a pair of very deferential privates from Sampson's team, and he was immediately covered with a large tarpaulin as they ran inside the dry sanctity of the main house.

The poncho that was part of the General's seasonal uniform, covered his clothes from the neck to the middle of his thighs, where his lighter blue trousers had rapidly become drenched below the knee as he waited patiently for everyone to reside under cover and the door to be closed shut behind them.

Sherman looked around. The oak panelling, the smell of pine and magnolia that always seemed to permeate throughout this part of the house brought a familiar and happy resonance to him.

Chapter 4 - White Orchard Plantation, Late Morning, May 11th 1864

"We could just pay her a quick visit ..." The wide-eyed trooper spoke quietly whilst patrolling the upstairs landing.

"You cannot, the Lieutenant said ..."

"I know what he said, but ... look I ain't never had a woman as beautiful as she is, and with this war 'n' all, y'just don' know if tomorrow's ever gonna come."

"Well, maybe just a ..." it seemed like they were giving serious consideration to their despicable thoughts, when ...

"He's here," Private Ebenezer Dolan exclaimed from an upstairs window whilst looking out across the muddied lawns of the plantation.

The word filtered quickly downstairs.

"Fuck ..." Sampson muttered under his breath, "What I wouldn't do right now to the little bitch that brought him here ..."

What the Lieutenant intended for Miss McCown if he had half a chance stayed inside his head, although the mutterings of the small group of Bummers that had foraged for the past twenty-four hours at White Orchards revealed only too clearly what they would all have liked to do to the poor girl if they ever had the opportunity.

However, for now there was a Major-General to attend to, and Sampson made haste to welcome his Commanding Officer, reaching the spacious hallway of the vast mansion just as General Sherman entered the house and was removing his rain-soaked outer clothing.

"General, how gracious of you to come to us, let me fetch tea ... or would you like something a little stronger perhaps?"

With a brief shake of his head, Sherman displayed the demeanour of someone with far more on their mind than sorting out an issue with a foraging party.

"Where is she ... Miss McCown, Take me to her please."

Catherine had lost count of the number of times that she had paced from one side of the room to the other, partly through boredom, in part through fear but also somewhat fuelled by anger! How dare these monsters break into her home and begin to take whatever they liked. Food supplies were low anyway and there was still a number of mouths to feed, and ...

"Thank heavens, Uncle Billy has come, I am saved." She spoke softly and to herself when, looking out through her window, she saw her Godfather step down from the carriage.

Her heart filled with joy and she knew that all would soon be well. This little misunderstanding would be cleared up and the soldiers could remove themselves from her property leaving her to go about her business once more. Maybe the General would stay for supper and tell her stories about her father. Oh, how she would love that.

The doors to her room pushed open and the relaxed, somewhat dishevelled, shape of General Sherman stood bordered by their frame.

"Uncle Billy," she cried, and ran to fling herself at him.

He caught her and held her tightly to his body. She had been much younger the last time this had happened, and Sherman could, now she was older, feel her shapely, more womanly, figure pressed against him.

It was then that Catherine noticed the soldiers standing behind her Godfather, his entourage staring at their reunion.

She untangled herself and stepped away. The General looked over his shoulder, nodded and said, "Leave us for a short while, please gentlemen."

With that said he strode into her bedchamber and pulled the doors closed behind him.

"Catherine," he said intoning the paternal intent behind his words, "How have you been?"

She looked up at him and her bottom lip began to tremble, and a solitary tear fell.

"Oh, it's been dreadful. Mama was taken by Pneumonia just a few months ago, after the cold Winter ..."

Sherman took her into his arms once more, allowing the girl's head to rest upon his shoulder.

"I was so sorry to hear about your Mother, darling Renee, and felt wretched about not being here for you."

"We, we ... buried her in the cemetery behind the main house, alongside ... fath ... father ..." Catherine struggled to speak and finally gave in to the tears that had welled up.

The General let her cry herself out, and when the little tremors shuddering through her body had ceased, he held her a few inches away from his gaze.

"So, what is all this about, Catherine? Why did you send for me?"

Extricating herself fully from his grip, Catherine moved away to sit at her dresser. Taking up a large brush with an ornate, ivory inlaid handle, she began to idly brush her long hair while she spoke.

"Uncle Billy, these men just appeared on my doorstep yesterday. They demanded I hand over everything I owned that was both edible and valuable. Well, what was I supposed to do? I still have father's slav ... servants ..."

Catherine stopped herself from using the word 'slaves' as she knew that Uncle Billy had certain views that might not accord with her own on that matter. She knew that he understood the heritage of slavery, and accepted its part in the current lifestyle of certain States, but she was also very aware of his seniority in the Union Army, and right at this very moment she needed his full support.

"... and so, I put up a fight."

Sherman smiled, imagining how this little devil of a beauty might well have put up a fight. He recalled happier times when she had 'put up a good fight' against the parental views of her mother and father.

"And so," Sherman used his turn to speak, "Lieutenant Sampson put you under house arrest in this room, and was about to forage everything he needed until you mentioned my name? Is that it?"

Catherine lowered her gaze and looked sheepishly up at her Godfather. She nodded slowly, "Yes Uncle Billy, that's about the measure of it."

Sherman smiled and once more opened his arms for his beautiful young Goddaughter to feel his embrace.

"Don't worry my dear, we can sort this matter out. But my soldiers were only acting out their orders, so in truth they have done nothing wrong ..." Then with a concerned look on his face, he held her at arms-length so that he could speak to her.

"No one touched you did they Catherine? Because if one hair on your head has been ..."

She smiled softly and shook her head, "No Uncle Billy, they were a little coarse and not charming in any way, but, despite them having sojourned downstairs overnight, I remain completely unharmed."

"That's good Catherine, my darling girl. Now, I am going to order that the guard to your room be removed, but I advise you to remain in here, alone while I take a moment to speak with the Lieutenant. I am sure the matter can be resolved to everyone's satisfaction."

"Thank you, Uncle Billy," Catherine said softly, stepping onto the tips of her toes to plant a gentle kiss on the General's bearded cheek.

******

"So, what are we going to do Lieutenant," Private Ebeneezer Dolan asked of his officer.

Sampson was clearly angry.

"Don't rightly know Dolan, but what I do know is that fucking bitch has made me look stupid in front of my commanding officer, the Major-General of the whole damn army no less. She needs showing who's in charge around here ..."

"I'd like to get my hands inside that tight dress of hers and fondle those firm mounds she hides under the crinoline." Sergeant Oaks, the courier from earlier this morning, added.

"Fuck yeah," was the private's considered response.

"Lieutenant, might I have a word?" Coming from a Major-General the question was of course, rhetorical. When Sherman appeared Sampson leapt to his feet as quickly as he could, saluted along with the rest of his men, and followed the General into the hallway.

"General, what is the problem, we were only ..."

Sherman waived down his opening words. "Yes, yes son, I know you were and you have done nothing wrong. In fact, your handling of the matter has been straight from the manual, exemplary thus far. But ..."

Sampson sensed the 'but' was coming and steeled himself accordingly. He hated that this young bitch, who needed to have her uppity ass put in its place, was higher up the General's pecking order than he himself was.

"... but this house is well known to me. The family living here, that is now represented by Miss McCown alone, has been friends to my family since a long time before the war. And so, I ask that we take our leave and find another property to sequester our supplies from."