Time Goes so Slowly

Time Goes so Slowly

“Get the men up, we have a long march today. According to orders from headquarters.” The voice of a lad not yet sixteen yelled: “Hey, Sergeant, where are we goin'?” Sergeant Norbert Reed turned to glare at Private Nehemiah Johnson. The sergeant replied: “Don’t know, boy, just get your gear and prepare to march. Private Johnson was not happy about the answer, but he knew he was treading on thin ice. He joined Mr. Lincoln’s army, lying about his age; he wasn’t sixteen, he was thirteen. He was a tall, heavy-set kid; that did not present him with the problem of looking too young; he had a bit of peach fuzz on his chin.

The hot July sun beat down on the men of the 20th Maine as they marched north toward a small town in Pennsylvania...Gettysburg. Commanding the 20th Maine was Colonel Joshua Chamberlain. He dismounted, waiting for his brother Tom; he needed to know how many soldiers from the old second Maine would be joining him in the battle at Gettysburg. He had spoken to those men earlier. Tom Chamberlain rode up to his brother: “You did good brother,” Joshua listened as Tom rambled on: “By actual vote, there were only five hotheads that refused. Joshua was stunned; he was certain the hotheads would eventually fight. He knew the battle could change the course of the war. It had to, he missed Fanny, his wife, and often thought of her sitting by the fire, writing him a letter about everyday life. He wondered if any of the other Maine men were married, if they thought about their

wives and families.

Sergeant Norbert Reed marched in silence; he could feel it in his bones, the battle that was going to be fought was here in the north. The Army of the Potomac had several changes of commanding generals. This, he knew, was bad for morale; he remembered George B. McClellan, who made soldiers of the men, but he could not order them into battle. That was not the best thing about the army. The next general was Ambrose P. Burnside. The men were then trained, but few responded to orders to charge; the Army of the Potomac lost the battle of Bull Run. General Joe Hooker and Chancellorsville. He thought of Fredericksburg and the defeat there. He watched as young Private Johnson marched, wondering what he was thinking about. He recently joined the Army of the Potomac and was still a green recruit; he hoped he would survive.

Private Nehemiah Johnson marched beside Sergeant Reed. He felt a little more secure. His thoughts were on home. He was sixteen, his mother begged him not to go, but he was needed on the farm. His father hoped he would return. He thought about Sally Ann, who promised to wait for him. Time blurred for him as they marched toward Gettysburg. His feet ached as they marched onward. Private Johnson prayed he would not panic when the battle began. He heard soldiers talking about seeing the elephant, about battles he missed.

2nd July, 1863, was a hot, humid day. Colonel William C. Oates, commander of the 15th Alabama, met with General John Bell Hood, who had received his orders from General James P. Longstreet. General Longstreet was disgruntled with orders to take the small rocky hill. General Hood was more than disgruntled; he was angry. He could see soldiers in blue up on the small rocky hill. He informed General Longstreet that there was no way to take that position; all the Yankees had to do was roll rocks down on top of them. Hood sent for Colonel Oates; the 15th Alabama was going to have to take that small rocky hill.

Colonel Joshua Chamberlain placed his men, informing them that they were the end of the line, they would have to hold that line, or the Rebels would go right on through, taking the big rocky hill also. They waited, silently watching the activity below them. Private Johnson could feel the fear building inside of him. He wondered if he would have the courage to kill another human being. He thought about his Ma, home in Maine, trying to keep the farm going. He Pa was dead, a stray bullet at Fredricksburg, took his life. He thought of his younger brother, Tommy, who wanted to join up. His ma told him; he sat down and wrote a letter to Tommy, explaining that Ma needed him more than the army. The private had never seen the elephant, a phrase that haunted most soldiers. His stomach began to growl from hunger, and he pulled a piece of jerky out of his haversack and began to chew. He found a nice, thick tree for cover. The rebels began to move toward the small rocky hill, up its face. Private Johnson said a quick prayer that he would survive to fight another day.

Sergeant Reed strode up and down the line, and he noted Private Johnson. The Sergeant recently received a letter from Johnson’s ma, asking him to keep her boy safe. His instincts told him Johnson would see the elephant today. He knew Johnson would fight, but his concern was that Johnson did not have the experience with the Springfield Rifle-musket. He hoped the boy would remember to fire after he loaded the rifle with powder, ball, and paper cartridge each time he fired, the rifle would jam up, and he would be unable to fire a shot. The Sergeant began checking the amount of ammunition, praying there would be enough powder. His primary concern was keeping the boys in his company safe. He noted as he walked that several of the men were pale, he knew and understood that look of fear.

Hiding behind trees, then rushing forth, the rebels hoped to gain some ground. Private Samuel Tompson, his stomach tightening with every step he took. He once again thought about home, the cabin where he said goodbye to his folks. His home was in Texas. When he joined the Texas 7th, he had not had leave to go home. He had no idea if his ma and pa were still alive. He begged to get leave, but with the Army heading toward the north, it was impossible. He felt a fear he had never known before, a deep-seated fear. He had been in battles before; this one seemed different somehow. He thought he had courage. He prayed he would make it home to Texas. He thought of the wild flowers blooming in the spring, the long horns grazing. Then fear took over once again.

Sergeant Jack Slattarey watched Tompson, knowing he should have sent him home on leave. This battle for this small rocky hill was a problem going up toward the Yankees. He knew ammunition was low. Manpower was low; one more loss, and Bobby Lee would not have an army left. He knew there was no way they could take that small rocky hill. He continued toward the top; he could see Yankee blue in a long blue line. Bayonets glinted in the sunlight. The day was hot, hotter than his native Virginia. He thought of his wife and three sons, he hoped they were safe with her people on the plantation. He wanted a drink of water so badly that there had been no time to fill canteens. He took one last swallow. Suddenly, a minie ball struck his canteen. He darted back behind a tree and prayed.

Suddenly, it as if out of nowhere, the Union forces under Colonel Joshua Chamberlain, came running down the small rocky hill, bayonets at full charge. Tompson, like most panicked, he could not run, he could not hide. He did the only thing he could do, he surrendered to Private Johnson. Private Johnson was out of ammunition. The Sergeant, began to creep up on Colonel Chamberlain, then a shot rang out. The Sergeant fell to the ground, his eyes wide with surprise. Colonel Chamberlain, received the Medal of Honor for his day at Little Round Top.

“A true soldier fights not because he hates what is in fornt of him, but because he loves what is behind him.” Gilbert K. Chesterton