Gunns of Montague part 4 October 19, 2011 at 9:31am Chapter Twenty Winter At Morristown, January 1777 A lone crow cawed plaintively as it zigzagged aimlessly across a sullen sky. The ragged scarecrow of a soldier, a mere remnant of military bearing rotated his body to capture and evenly distribute the maximum warmth of the January sun. A sun which had to fight its way through the heavens, to its child, the earth, through a choking haze of fog and smoke from the camps many fires. Thank God for its tenacity and perseverance,” thought Moses aloud. Guard duty was bad enough, but this winter at Morristown was the bitterest of his life. Snow, wind, ice storms. The Highland Gunns called it the Wolf Month. At least he had a serviceable, if not good, pair of leather boots, and warm woolen stockings. In this regard, he was a wealthy man. Some of the others did not fare as well. Rags were the uniforms of this army. Asahel Gunn emerged from a smoke-filled hut to relieve his cousin from guard duty. Get some rest and some warmth, Moses, he said. I think it may be warmer here in the sun than inside today,” Moses replied. Asahel coughed violently. Moses looked at him and felt a deep sadness. Here was a sick, convulsing, ragged creature. Why dont you stay in bed today, Asahel? I will take your guard duty for you. You need the rest to get well. No, no. Ill do it. I cant sleep. I cant rest. I might just as well do it myself,” Asahel replied and coughed some more. But thank you anyway cousin. What happened to your boots Asahel? Moses asked. They were useless, completely worn through. They offered up a final sacrifice last night, a few moments of warmth in the fire. You can’t stand in the snow all day with your feet wrapped in those rags and not freeze. Here - you wear my boots while I sleep. And my stockings too. They sat in the ashen snow and exchanged footwear. Bless you Moses, said Asahel. We share the same blood, cousin,” said Moses. Why not a pair of boots? Moses retired to one of the log huts he and others had built. It was very little warmer inside than out and the smoke burned his eyes. Using a stick, he prodded some stones out of the fireplace and arranged them so his body would fit between them on the floor. He rearranged some well-used straw over the area, lay down and covered himself with a blanket. His tortured body was rigid with the pain of intense, unremitting cold and lack of proper nutrition. He reflected upon his condition. For hundredth time or more he asked himself the same questions. Why am I doing this? And what will come of it? Chapter Twenty-One Treachery Suspected After Christmas dinner, Moses sat by the fire, sipping a hot mug of grog. Virgil sat alongside of him. He poked at a burning log with an andiron. Sparks shot up and sparkled through the darkened room. Did you get any medals for bravery in the rebellion, Grandpa?” he asked. Theres nothing brave in killing another human being, and nothing cowardly in refusing. Courage lies in the mind and heart, not in the killing. But if your convictions tell you to take up arms, then make every shot count. It wasnt a matter for medals, Virgie. There was nothing glorious about it, men dying and crippled. They were all brave. At Morristown in that awful winter, the bloodstained rags bandaging our feet were medals enough. And for those of us who survived, that was medals enough. Just being there, that was metal enough for many medals. And coming home. Remember this, Virgie, if, God forbid, we shall ever have another war, the glory is in coming home… surviving… and coming home. Thats medal enough. But I thought General Washington gave you a medal or something. Oh no, no, no. The General did give me a commendation, but that was merely for doing my duty and nothing more, said the old man. But what was it for, Grampa? he pressed. It was a most distasteful and disagreeable matter of duty, but one necessary in a time of war and for a treason of the blackest dye.” “I was Quarter Sergeant in charge of the stores at Fort Arnold at West Point when one day General Washington paid an unexpected visit.” * * * * * It was a balmy day, warm and breezy. Billowing clouds moved slowly across the open sky. The valley was verdantly plush. Not at all like Montague this time of late September where leaves already are reds and gold, thought the soldier watching over the Hudson at Fort Arnold. A contingent of officers approached, unannounced, the entrance to the fort on foot. The guard recognized the tallest of them from the Battle at Princeton. He spoke. “Is General Arnold hereabouts? No, sir,” replied the young Sergeant. Has he been here yet this morning? No, sir. The officers made a brief, cursory inspection of the fort and returned. What is your name, soldier? the leader asked. Gunn, sir, Sergeant Moses Gunn, he answered, Quartermaster. And how are the stores? We have approximately two days supply of flour, sir, and no meat at all, which has been the case for the month, Moses reported. I shall remedy that forthwith. His face showed grave concern. He continued, If General Arnold should happen to return, please inform him that General Washington was here and wishes his presence at the Robinson House without delay. Do you understand? Yes sir, Moses replied. Gunn! Where are you from, Sergeant? Montague, Massachusetts, Sir. Yes,” said Washington staring down intently into Moses dark eyes, I remember. Moses didn’t know what to say, how to respond, what to do. Washington continued. “Keep a watchful eye on the river, Sergeant. All guards will be doubled until further notice at all the forts at West Point. The British may try something at any moment. Be fully alert and prepared to do battle. The officers turned to leave. Moses spoke. You can trust me, Sir! Washington hesitated for a moment, turned and said, I know, Sergeant, I know. Chapter Twenty-Two Treason Of The Blackest Dye By late evening the wood cutting expedition had returned to the Fort and one of the men carried a possum. What luck, eh, Moses?” called out his brother Elisha. I think this is the last possum in the valley. Didn’t have to fire a shot, either,” added their cousin, Salmon. Poor creature made the mistake of getting in the way of my axe. Stumbled onto some wild turnips, too” said Elisha. Should make a nice stew. Well, let’s get him cleaned up and in the pot,” said Moses and started the project. While they ate, Colonel Nathaniel Wade of the Massachusetts Militia and newly appointed Commander of West Point rode up and dismounted. Evening, men, he said. Evening, sir. Heard the news, yet, men? he asked. Heard what news? General Washington has been all over West Point and the opposite bank looking for General Arnold and hes nowhere to be found,” the Colonel said. Thats right,” said Moses, General Washington was here looking for him. He left orders with me to inform General Arnold, that is, if I see him, that General Washington wishes to see him without delay. But whats it all about, I wonder? What its all about lads, is treason,” said Colonel Wade. Word coming up the line is that some farmers down Tappan way caught themselves a British spy, some fellow calling himself John Anderson, carrying plans of the Point, he was, along with a list of our artillery and manpower. And, get this… he has a pass supposedly signed by General Arnold! That’s why Washington is looking for him. And where is he? Hes disappeared. Gone. Vanished. Whoa! said Moses. It must be a mistake, said Elisha. What American fighting for liberty would do such a thing? General Arnold was even wounded in battle. He was the hero of the Battle of Saratoga. It must be a mistake. They all looked at each other and shook their heads in disbelief. Well, anyway, men,” continued Colonel Wade, were on full alert, guards doubled. Be prepared for the worst. An attack could come at any time. Ill see you in the morning.” He mounted his horse and cantered across the parade ground and up the trail to Fort Putnam. The boys looked at each other. Moses thought out loud. Maybe this is why the Fort is in such a state of disrepair. Maybe this is why we are low in supplies and have almost no rations. Maybe its not a mistake after all. A canopy of dark clouds rolled and unfurled beneath a half-moon playing tricks with shadowy reflections on the Hudson. Only the sound of a loon or an owl broke through the suspiciously silent curtain of darkness. No one would sleep this night. Chapter Twenty-Three The Short Life Of A Spy Rumors were rampant for the next day and a half. The British were expected from all sides, by land and by water. The weak 275-pound link in the iron chain across the river had been quickly replaced. But the fortresses were alert. The Massachusetts Militia at Fishkill had been sent to fortify the landing opposite West Point. Major General Alexander MacDougall was their new commander. On September 27th the alleged spy, British Major John André arrived under guard at West Point. The following day, the prisoner, escorted by and in the custody of Major Benjamin Tallmadge, was taken under guard by barge to Kings Ferry. Sergeant Moses Gunn was among the American soldiers assigned to guard the spy. At King’s Ferry, the party was met by Cavalry. From there André was taken to Tappan and confined in the Mabie House, where he was destined to live out the remainder of his short life. The party of barges rowed by soldiers, left West Point early that morning. In the middle was the boat with André and Major Tallmadge, who sat alongside the spy on the after-seat of Moses barge. Moses sat facing them. He couldn’t help but overhear their conversation. Tallmadge inquired about the siege and possible capture of West Point had the plan worked. André was noncommittal about the involvement of any others, but candid about his own. “How foolish,” thought Moses. “Hes sealing his own fate.” “Were you to personally take part in the attack?” asked Major Tallmadge. Yes, I was to have landed there, on the west shore,” he stated, pointing to a precise spot. “From there, my Corps and I were to traverse the mountains to the south of the parade grounds to Fort Putnam. Had the plan succeeded, it is doubtful that there would have been any meaningful resistance, give the shock of surprise and state of disarray at the fortress.” “And how many patriots dead at the scene of this black victory?” wondered Moses. Tallmadge asked, “And what would have been your reward?” André replied, quite proudly, “Military glory, honor, prestige, and promotion to General perhaps.” Then André posed the ultimate question to Tallmadge. “What, Major, is your opinion of my possible fate?” Tallmadge reminded him of a Yale classmate of his. “Does the name, Nathan Hale mean anything to you?” André nodded. “Remember what happened to him?” “I remember,” thought Moses. “Surely you dont equate his case with mine,” said Major André. “I assure you sir, that I do,” said Major Tallmadge. “No less,” agreed Moses to himself. At Tappan, André was confined at the Mabie house under heavy, twenty-four hour guard. While he awaited his fate, he wrote letters, composed music, and drew pictures. Moses stood guard duty everyday. Tallmadge was there all the time. On September 29, 1780, the Court Martial convened at the Reformed Protestant Dutch Church. Moses heard all the testimony, including the introduction into evidence of André’s admissions. Moses and other guards talked among themselves about the Generals of the Court. Moses knew of Nathaniel Greene, he had seen him before at West Point. He had heard of Lafayette, the Frenchman, but didnt know the others. “What do you think theyll do?” someone asked. “The only thing they can do,” said Moses. Moses’s opinion is ultimately reflected in the verdict. André was found guilty of spying and under the rules of war, the recommended sentence was death. On September 30th, Washington approved the finding of the Court Martial of the previous day. André’s execution was ordered for the next day, October 1st, but postponed that morning. Later that afternoon, it was rescheduled for October 2nd, at Noon. The day before he was supposed to die, André wrote Washington and pleaded to be shot by a firing squad, and not hanged. Tallmadge had Moses carry the letter to Washington at the DeClark-DeWint House where he had his headquarters. Moses was met by group of officers and admitted entry. George Washington recognized him. Well, Sergeant Gunn, what have you from Major Tallmadge? A letter from the British Major, Sir. Washington opened and read it. Moses knew its contents. Washington dropped his hands to his side and paced slowly without speaking. He shook his head pensively, heavily. The minutes seemed like hours passing to Moses. Washington gave him no answer. Thank you Sergeant, you may return. Any message, Sir? No message, Sergeant. On October 2nd, shortly before Noon, André dressed, and under a guard of thirty men, in double file on each side of the road, walked on foot with a group of Officers to his doom. In front of him, Officers on horseback and a wagon containing a black coffin. Along the route, they passed George Washingtons Headquarters. Moses noticed the shutters were all closed. Was Washington inside, he wondered? The ceremony was brief and professional. André paid the price of treachery. Sergeant Moses Gunn chose not to watch. Chapter Twenty-Four Moses Says Goodnight “And that’s the way it happened,” recounted the boy’s grandfather. “It was not a day anyone could be proud of, but there was no other way. If his plan had succeeded, I might not be here to tell this story… and you wouldn’t be here to listen.” “I hope we never have another war,” said Virgil. “I hope so, too,” said Moses. “Well, I’m tired. I think I’ll go up to bed.” “Help Grandpa,” said Aurelia. Virgil steadied the old man as he struggled to get up from his chair. Moses leaned on him and slowly climbed the creaking stairs. He fell on the bed and the boy lifted his legs and covered him with a feather quilt. “Don’t forget to say your prayers, Virgie,” Moses whispered as he kissed him for the last time. “I’ll say one for you, Grandpa,” he promised, and went to his own bed. And he said that prayer. It was a cold, cruel, windy night. The draft from the windows flickered the candlelight and shadows danced and circled around the boy’s room, playing tricks with his imagination. Gusts of damp, frigid air flowed from the fireplace flue, whistling and humming among the shadows in a deep, hollow, eerie voice…‘MooOOOoooOOOooses’... ‘MooooOOOOOooooOOOOses’… And somehow, Virgil knew…. Chapter Twenty-Five MOSES GUNN, 1754-1844 The coffin glistened under a mirror of ice. Freezing rain transformed the rough-hewn fir to a lustrous piece of fine polished furniture. The image of a small boys face reflected through the shimmering surface. Needle sharp droplets stung the little cheeks before melting into tears, tears of sorrow, emptiness and confusion. The bitterness of the weather competed with his sensibilities, unconsciously distracting him from his grief. Cant we do something to keep Grandpa from getting wet?” he whimpered, fidgeting. His mother shared the pain and attempted to relieve his anxiety. Dont worry, Virgie, hes nice and dry inside. But, wont he be cold? he cried, shivering. She hesitated for a moment and looked down the row of graves on the knoll in Montague’s South Cemetery. Her mother, Laura Gunn, Grandma Olive, Uncle Moses and Aunt Olive, were they all huddled together because of the cold she wondered? She hesitated and answered simply, No. He danced the nervous dance cold little boys dance, shifting weight from one foot to the other, his head tucked into his mothers side, seeking refuge in her warmth. His brother, Julian, gifted in this manner, was chosen to say a few words over the grave. Ice piled on bowed heads and turned up collars. “ ‘That we shall die, we know, tis but the time, and drawing days out, that men stand upon.’ He came close to death so many times, this son of Massachusetts and American patriot, he learned to fear it not, and fearing nothing, lived four score and ten contented years.” “Into this blessed piece of earth we place these sacred remains of a simple man made noble by his life and deeds, thereby honoring our country and the great Clan Gunn.” Our hearts are in your coffin with you, Grandfather Moses. When they return to us, our tears will cease and we will rejoice in your memory and honor you for all of our days. Requiescat in Pace.” * * * * * Epilogue Their world was alive with color and music. Moses and the boy whiled away the summer spinning daydreams in the meadow high over Otter Valley. Soft, multi-colored blossoms floated gently through the air, whites, reds, yellows and gold. Moses held out his finger. A delicate yellow butterfly lit upon it, as if it sensed sanctuary. “Never harm a butterfly,” Virgie. “Butterflies are special. Theyre like our spirits. We struggle all of our lives to free ourselves from our cocoons. Only then can we fly.” Moses offered the butterfly to Virgil. Its frail petals quivered as it climbed on the little boys finger. “Isnt she pretty?” said Moses. “As yellow and bright as a buttercup. I wonder if she remembers? The fragile winged creature gracefully rose on a faerie breath of summer and silently joined its siblings, blessed by the spirits of the wind, guided by great invisible hands. I wonder if we remember? The End THE GUNNS OF MONTAGUE By Robert A. Hervey Book I The Gunns of Montague Book II The Odyssey Book III The Civil War Years Chapter Books for Middle Readers, Ages 8 to 12 This is the history of a family that settled the New England frontier, Jonathan Carver, one of the defenders of the Colonies from the French and Indians, and the one who wrote the most famous account of the massacre at Fort William Henry in 1757; the Gunns, Moses, his father, uncles and cousins who fought in the Revolutionary War; and the four brothers who were caught up in the Civil War. All the characters are real people describing the events from a historically accurate perspective, in their individual voices from their point of view. It is humorous, frightening, poignant and sad. And, for what it’s worth, it is almost all true. Except for the dialogue, of course. The main characters are four brothers, Milton, Julian, Austin and Virgil, raised in Brandon Vermont in the 1830’s. Abandoned by their father at an early age, fate delivers them to an education by the Shakers, a Quaker sect, which has a positive effect on at least two of them, Julian, who becomes the voice of conscience for the others, and Virgil, who is conscripted into Hood’s Texas Brigade at the outbreak of the Civil War. Milton is a mischievous sort and Austin has an IQ that is inversely proportional to a high threshold of pain. The boys set out in search of their fortunes. Milton becomes talented with cards and every other way to make a quick dollar. He wins a near bankrupt ragtag circus on a Mississippi riverboat, and the boys make a living with it, touring the antebellum South. Virgil goes on ahead, tacking up posters in the smaller towns, avoiding those where people might have seen a real circus. He meets another boy in Hannibal, Missouri, who was “born on the comet”, too, Sam Clemens. They become life long friends. Virgil’s pacifism has a gentle, yet powerful influence on those around him despite the incredible violence they encounter in the first year of the war. Recovering in Chimborazo hospital, a rainbow after a storm seems to stretch from one end of the Confederacy to the other. Virgil, constantly questioning the sanity of it all, asks, “Who could fight a war beneath a rainbow?” He is taken prisoner by the Union Army just before Antietam, swears allegiance to the North and serves three years at Fortress Monroe, Virginia, where a storekeeper, Sam Arnold, later imprisoned for complicity in Lincoln’s assassination, befriends him. Witnessing Virgil’s conscription and the confiscation of the circus animals from a safe distance, Milton and Julian abandon the circus and escape to Philadelphia, after an episode of chicanery with a crippled horse and a big race in New Orleans. Milton has grown into a drinker, successful gambler and ladies’ man, Julian a gifted actor. Austin has been murdered in Texas after a barroom brawl and a shoot-out. Julian meets and impresses Edwin Booth, and becomes part of his company. They wind up in Washington City, living in the rooming house of Mary Surratt, whom Milton woos, meet John Wilkes Booth, a look alike of Julian, although known only as “Jack” until the assassination, and all the other conspirators and personalities of that dark event. After Virgil’s unsuccessful attempt to save Lincoln, the brothers find themselves suspects in the plot because of their relationship with the participants. The book ends with Milton and Julian’s escape from Washington, and Virgil’s transfer to the Dakota Territory to fight Indians with a young officer named George Armstrong Custer.
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