A CONFEDERATE SCRAPBOOK
January 20th, 1871
Richmond, Virginia
As the train screeched to a smokey stop alongside the station platform, a large miltary band began loudly playing "Dixie" over the cheers of the crowd. Tidwell stood near a podium at ot one end of the honor guard in their sharp grey unforms that split the crowd in two like a parting of the Red Sea in anticipation of a Moses to parade through, his hands fidgeting nervously behind his back. At the other end the last car on the train was coming to a stop. He had never met General Longstreet, Commander of the Department of Missouri, and hero of the Battle of Chicago. He wanted to make certain that the General's first impression of him was a good one.
Today was Armistice day. The first one. It was exactly one year since Tidwell had stood in the corner in the dining room of that old New York farmhouse as General Jackson and General Porter signed the surrender of the Union Army of the Potomac, effectively ending the Second War of Southern Independence. Certainly there had been some hold outs, most significantly that terrorist Sheridan and his band of bushwackers in Indiana, and Fremont's generally ignored (and self styled) Grand Army of the Far West in Idaho. But Fremont had soon led his ragged group into captivity once they were kicked out of the new Republic of Columbia by that nation's Cree government, Sheridan was quickly rounded up and hung, and most people looked upon Appleton's Farmhouse as the end of the war, though with Longsreet's capture of Chicago six months prior, the war was effectively won before then.
And with the end of the war came the victory parades, and the rewards. Tidwell himself enjoyed a small measure of restitution. Within a month of the surrender, he was a Major, and six months later, he was a Lieutenant Colonel. Although currently a Lieutenant Colonel without assignment. Though still nominally a member of General Jackson's staff, his duties had been superceded when Jackson was promoted to full General and Commander of the Army of the Confederacy. He had been attempting to find transfer to a line regiment, but as of yet, his first assignment in over a month was greeting General Longstreet as he arrived for the dedication of the Robert E. Lee Memorial today here in Richmond. Perhaps not the most challenging of assigments for the young Colonel, but one he wanted to perform well, nonetheless. Still, he was mildly frustrated with his lack of real responsibility. Perhaps the rumor was true. Perhaps it was more difficult to gain a command in this man's army if you didn't hail from Virginia, at least in this part of the country.
The whistle of the engine blew it's high pitched scream over the continuing notes of "Dixie" as the train shuddered to complete stillness. Within moments an officer in gray and gold appeared at the door at the rear of the train, followed by a man who was most obviously General Longstreet.
He was larger than Tidwell had assumed, and quite muscular, with a healthy amount of portliness around his waist. And his thick black beard belied his fifty years of age, as did the almost humorous light that Tidwell could see in his eyes as he waved his dark gray hat in the air, to the extreme pleasure of the now roaring crowds.The gold braids hanging beneath the gold epulettes on his shoulders sparkled in the midwinter sun, and the cold in the air quickly reddened his cheeks as he stepped onto the platform.
He LOOKS like a General, Tidwell thought. And a hero.
As Longstreet's feet reached the platform between the two rows of the honor guard, the snapped smartly to attention, and at the podium, Tidwell snapped a salute. Longstreet returned it, beaming, as he strode between the guard towards Tidwell, his aide folloing closeley behind.
"General Longstreet," Tidwell said in the most formal tone of voice he could muster over the shouts of the crowd. "On behalf of President Stevens and General Jackson, allow me to welcome you to Richmond."
"Thank you kindly, Colonel." Longstreet replied. Then, leaning a little closer to Tidwell's ear, "You know, I've been here once or twice before."
Tidwell couldn't help but smiling back at the General's mischivous grin. "Yes, sir, I assume you have. Liuetenant Colonel Robert Tidwell, at your service, sir."
"Colonel Tidwell, allow me to introduce Brigadier General Sorrel, my Chief of Staff."
Tidwell saluted Sorrel, and the turned back to Longstreet. "Sir, if you wish to say a few words to the crowd..."
"No time, Tidwell. If you could just show us to the carriage..."
"General Longstreet! General Longstreet!" A voice called from behind the wall of soldiers. Tidwell recognized that he was a reporter from the Enquirer, but he couldn't place the name. "General! Any comment on rumors that you are considering a run for the senate on the Whig ticket from Georgia?"
Longsteet turned and smiled at the reporter, feigning a slight shrug. "I'm just a simple soldier from Georgia, good sir. And as such, I have no politcal ambitions. Nor have I been asked by the Whig party to consider such a run." Longstreet turned and faced Tidwell. "Our carriage, Colonel?" Tidwell pointed the way, and then followed behind. Even to his politically innocent ears, Longstreet's tone towards the reporter didn't sound very convincing.
General Longstreet and Colonel Sorrel sat at the back of the open air carriage seated forward. Tidwell climbed in and sat facing them, as one of their mounted escorts closed the door behind him, and then mounted his horse. Small crowds lined the streets, cheering as they began to ride away from the station, to which Longstreet waved his blue-grey forage cap in response.
After a minute's ride, the crowds diminished, and Tidwell cleared his throat and spoke up. "General Jackson awaits you at the Whitehouse with President Stevens. From there, the three of you are to ride together to the dedication ceremony where..."
"Actually, Colonel," Colonel Sorrel interrupted, "we will stop and pay our respects to President Davis first."
Tidwell was taken aback by what was such a blatant breach of protocol, not only by stopping before meeting with General Jackson and the President, but by also meeting with a man who had become one of President Stevens' most outspoken critics these last few months. And it wasn't much of a secret that Jefferson Davis had played host to some rather prominant Whigs during the weeks leading up to this dedication ceremony.
"Yes, sir. Of course. Driver," he said to the coachman, "The Jefferson Davis residence."
"Sir." was the simple response.
"So formal here in Richmond these days." Longstreet observed. "I had not realized that we were modeling our cavalry on the King's Household Guard."
Tidwell glanced at the four escorting riders on either side of the carriage, in their nickel-plated helmets gleaming under scarlet horsehair plumes, their pale grey uniforms accented by deep red cross-belts, piping, and trim, and tight trousers carefully tucked into shining thigh-high cavalry boots.
"Yes sir. Well, the President felt it was necessary to portray the proper image to our European friends."
"They do look quite the thing, General," Sorrel said with a wry smile beginning to beam on his youngish face. "All pomp and circumstance."
"Hmm, quite a bit of pomp, indeed. Not so certain of the circumstance. Not so certain at all. At least I can see where our military budget is being spent. Can't even afford live ammunition for the Army of the Missouri to train with, but at least the cavalry in Richmond has them shiny new helmets."
There was a minute of silence, with only the sound of the horses hooves on the cobblestone and the creaking of the carriage, before Longstreet again spoke up. "Tidwell. Same Tidwell as the one at Youngstown?"
Tidwell could feel a little bit of embarrassed heat steaming from his cheeks in the cold air. "Yes, sir, I was there."
"Was there?" Longstreet asked in suprise. "I would say you were more than there. Sorrel, this is that Lieutenant who's company of Arizona Rifles held off Burnside's flank attack at the bridge. One hundred men led by this young man held off an entire corps of the Army of the Potomac until Jackson could get his own Corps into action. Three hours! Three damned hours, he held them off!"
Tidwell felt slightly uncomfortable at this sudden focus on his service at Youngstown. "We were lucky, Sir. Burnside didn't press his advantage. He could have easily forded the stream not one hundred yards from that bridge. Custer's cavalry almost did. Plus, we did have a Gatling with us."
"Don't sell yourself short. " Longstreet admonished. "That was a mighty hot action. Mighty hot, and you deserve the credit for saving the day."
"Well, sir, the day could have ended much differently if Jackson's Corps hadn't arrived when it did."
Longstreet crossed his armes and peered at Tidwell. "Jackson? Hmmph. We know who the real heroes of that engagement were, don't we Sorrel."
"Indeed, sir." Sorrel replied.
Tidwell felt a slight nervousness at the direction this conversation had taken, and decided that his best course of action was to remain silent, and hope they quickly arrived at the home of Jefferson Davis.
"So now you serve on the staff of General Jackson, Colonel Tidwell?" Sorrel asked.
"Unoffically, Sir, I am a Liuetenant Colonel in search of a command, you might say." At first, Tidwell was pleased in the new course of conversation, but then realized that he may have sounded a bit desperate in his statement. Well, he was desperate, wasn't he?
"No, no. Now that, THAT just isn't a correct set of affairs. Not correct at all." Longstreet pronounced with a rather serious tone. "You must have a command."
"I agree," joined Sorrel.
"Colonel Sorrel. Isn't Colonel Granger of the Fourth Kentucky retiring this month?" Longstreet asked his Chief of Staff.
"I believe that is so, Sir."
Longstreet looked rather pleased as he faced Tidwell once more. "Well, then, it's done. I shall put in the request for your immediate transfer to Saint Louis and command of the Fourth Kentucky Rifles. That is, if you have no objections, Colonel Tidwell.
Tidwell was slightly shocked at this rapid turn of events, and didn't rightly know what to say. So he simply stammered out, "I, uh, yes. Yes, sir. That would be a fine thing. A fine thing indeed!"
The carriage came to a creaking halt in front of the rather ornate mansion that was the residence of the former President of the CSA, Jefferson Davis.
"Well, then, Tidwell, consider it done." Longstreet stated rather proudly as one of the escorts opened the carriage door and lowered the step. "I won't be long here, and then we can ride on to the White House. I believe we have much to discuss. I am most curious about the goings on here in Richmond, and, of course, the news from the office of the Commander of the Army of the Confederacy. All good, I hope. But I want to hear it all, you understand."
Tidwell followed Longstreet and Sorrel onto the the cobblestone, and saluted. "Yes sir. I understand, sir. I am at your service."
Longstreet gave Tidwell a quick return salute, and then walked briskly towards the door.
And Tidwell stood on the street by the carriage in the cold Richmond winter air, his breath rising in soft steamy clouds, watching them enter the home, and trying to supress a gathering feeling that he had just sold his soul.
January 21st, 1871
Clipping from the Richmond Enquirer
LONGSTREET SHINES AT LEE MEMORIAL DEDICATION
....Then General Longstreet approched the podium from his seat next to former President Davis, and delivered the second speech of the day, and the only one of the ceremony of any true impact or importance. It was deep in feeling, compact in thought and expression, and tasteful and elegant in every word and comma. The entire speech is published here for your reading-
Ninety-five years ago our founding fathers created on this continent a new nation, concieved in the ideals of liberty, and dedicated to the propostition that tyranny shall have no place in a government of the people, by the people, and for the people. And though our northern neighbors have allowed these principles to be forgotten, we, in the rebirth of the orginal ideals, have not.
We have recently stood on the fields of battle and claimed victory in what was our Second War for Independence from northern tyranny. In this war, we endured, and we were triumphant. We are met here today to dedicate a memorial to a great man, a great patriot who led us bravely into battle and assured our armies inevitable victory. We come here to dedicate this spot as his final resting place, and as an everlasting tribute to the dedication, the courage, and the sacrifice of our greatest commander, General Robert E. Lee, who was killed on the field of battle at his moment of triumph outside Pittsburg. It is altogether fitting that we do this.
But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate, nor can we consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave soldiers of our armies, both living and dead, have consecrated the ground of every memorial, of every tribute, that we may erect for them, far above our powers to add or detract. The world may little note, nor long remember what we say here this day, but it can never forget what Robert E. Lee and every brave soldier did for this nation. It is for us, rather, the living, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who have fought and bled have so nobly advanced. It is for us instead to be dedicated to the great task the lies ahead of us. That from the honored dead we take increased devotion to the cause for which they laid down their lives for, so that they shall not have died in vain. That this Confederacy, under God, shall be the new birth of freedom on this continent, and that true government of the people shall not perish from this earth.
General Longstreet's speech was met at first with almost stunned silence, and then by a smattering of applause that quckly built itself to a roar of approval.
President Stevens spoke next, in his awkward, high pitched voice, and was often drowned out by the calls for "Longstreet!"" and "Give us Ol' Pete!"" from the crowd during his twenty minutes of presentation. Visibly exhausted, the President continued...
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