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Love Stays True (The Homeward Journey)

By Martha Rogers

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Chap ter 1
Point Lookout, Maryland, Monday, April 10, 1865
Cold air chilled his arms, and a sharp object poked
at his cheek. Manfred Whiteman reached down to
pull a ragged blanket up over his arms and brushed
away the straw scratching his face. A few moments later a
sudden brightness aroused him again. His lids opened to a
slit. Slivers of sunlight peeked through the tiny windows and
dispersed the shadows of the night.
He shut his eyes against the sun’s rays, but sleep would
not return. He lay still in the quiet of the new morning
and sensed a difference in the air that settled over him
like a cloak of peace. Raising his head, he glanced around
the room. The same familiar stench of wounds, dirty hay,
unwashed bodies, and death permeated the air, but in it all
the difference vibrated. Something had happened, he could
sense it, but nothing unusual appeared in the confines of the
prison barracks.
After being captured in the Battle of Nashville in December,
he, his younger brother Edwin, and other prisoners had
made the long march from Nashville to Louisville, Kentucky.
From there they were transferred to Camp Chase in Ohio.
Then, in the first week of February, they had been loaded
onto trains like cattle and sent to Point Lookout, Maryland,
a prison housing nearly fifty thousand men. Upon their
arrival the captured soldiers had been stripped of everything
personal, and as the days progressed, hundreds of men died.
Manfred mourned the loss of friends but thanked the Lord
every day for sparing his life, as well as the life of his brother.
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Edwin lay sleeping on the pallet next to him, curled on
his side as usual. Others still slept, their snores filling the
air with sound. No use in trying to sleep now. Manfred’s
stomach rumbled with hunger, but most likely the only
breakfast would be hard tack or biscuit.
Several weeks ago an officer with the rank of general had
visited. For some reason the general had asked Manfred
about the one thing he would most like to have. When
Manfred answered he wanted his Bible, the man had been
somewhat taken aback. Still, he’d managed to find the Bible
and Manfred’s journal, which he returned.
Manfred now pulled that worn journal from beneath his
dirty mat. The almost ragged book, his lifeline for the past
three years, fell open. Manfred wrote.
April 10, 1865
Three more died the night before last.
The nearly full moon shining through the
windows gave me light to see. I took one
man’s shoes and left him with my holey wornout
ones. He won’t need shoes, but I will.
Took his socks and another man’s for me
and Edwin. God, I never dreamed I would
do such a thing, but we are desperately in
need. Please forgive me. Help Edwin and me
to get out of here and get home safely. I so
desperately need to see Sallie and my family.
The scrape of wood against wood echoed in the room.
Union soldiers, making their usual morning inspection,
checked for any who may have died during the night.
Manfred shoved the journal under his mat just before
the door thudded against the wall and the guards’ shoes
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7
clomped on the wooden floors. He turned on his side once
again to feign sleep. The blunt toe of the sergeant’s boot
kicked Manfred’s hip and sent a sharp pain through his
leg. He grunted in response and raised his head to let the
sergeant know he was alive. When the man passed, Manfred
sat up on his mat and stretched his legs out in front of him
to relieve the usual early-morning stiffness.
Others awakened, and their groans filled the air as they
rose to sit on their bedding. Manfred waited for breakfast,
not knowing if he would even get rations this morning. The
guards exited carrying the bodies of the souls who didn’t
make it through the night.
Manfred voiced a silent prayer for the boys and their families
who would receive the news of the death of their loved
ones. He bit his lip. He and Edwin had to survive. They had
too much life to live, but then so had the ones just taken
away. What if God chose not to spare him or Edwin? No,
he wouldn’t think of that. Instead he filled his mind with
Scripture verses memorized as a child. God’s Word stored in
his heart gave him the comfort and hope he needed to survive
each day.
A little later the guards returned and ordered them to the
part of the cookhouse where they would eat what the cooks
passed off as food. Manfred accepted the cup of what the
men called “slop water” coffee and a hard biscuit that would
have to suffice until they brought a lunch of greasy water
soup. Weeks ago the putrid smells of death, the filth in the
camp, and the lousy food sickened him, but now he barely
noticed.
Manfred managed to eat half his biscuit and drink a few
sips from his cup then leaned toward the man on his right.
“Here, James. You take the rest of mine. You need it more
than I do.”
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The man clasped a trembling hand around the cup and
reached for the biscuit with his other. A few drops sloshed
over the rim. “Thank you, Manfred. You’re a true friend.”
He stuffed the biscuit into his mouth and lifted the cup to
his lips to gulp down the last dregs of liquid. With a nod to
Manfred, the young soldier returned the cup.
After they were sent back to their quarters, Manfred
breathed deeply and almost choked on the rancid air. What
he wouldn’t give for a bath, shave, and haircut. A good meal
wouldn’t hurt anything either. His nose had mostly numbed
itself to his body odor, but dirt and scum became more visible
every day. When he had tried to wash his shirt, the
brackish water left stains he couldn’t remove.
When would this nightmare come to an end? A question
unanswered for these four long months of marching,
fighting, and incarceration. Too many lay ill and dying. The
end had to come soon.
He glanced once again at his brother, who cushioned his
head on his crossed palms with his eyes closed. Manfred
reached over to touch the boy’s shoulder. “You all right, little
brother?”
Edwin didn’t open his eyes. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just hungry.
I dreamed of home last night and Bessie’s cooking. When
I close my eyes, I can see her and Momma in the kitchen,
Bessie up to her elbows in flour making biscuits and Momma
stirring the fire and making grits.”
“Shh, brother, you’re making me hungry too.” Manfred
pulled what was left of his jacket tighter about his thin body.
“We’ve been captive four months, but it seems a lifetime.
Home, our parents, and Sallie may as well be a million miles
away.”
Edwin sat up and pounded his fist into the straw. “Yeah,
and sometimes I think we’ll never get back there.” He
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9
stretched his legs out on his mat, hugging what passed for a
pillow. “I sure pray I’ll get to see Peggy again soon.”
Manfred positioned his body to sit squarely on his mat.
“Soon as we’re home, I’m asking Mr. Dyer for Sallie’s hand in
marriage, that is, if she still wants me. No telling who she’s
met since I’ve been gone.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you, big brother.
Sallie loves you.” He smacked his fist into the open palm of
his other hand. “I just want to be out of here and out there
where the action is, fighting with Lee. They told us the Yanks
are fighting Lee in Virginny, and that’s just across the river.
Lee has to beat them Yanks. We’ll be hearing about it any
day now. I just know it.”
Manfred simply nodded. He didn’t agree with his brother,
but Edwin cared more about the war than Manfred. At this
point Manfred had resigned himself to waiting out the war.
If only he could somehow communicate with Sallie and
let her know he was alive. Almost a year had passed since
he’d seen her last summer and six months since he’d been
able to send a letter to her or received one. From his Bible he
removed her last letter and opened it, being careful to handle
it as little as possible. Already small holes appeared in the
creases from his folding it so often. She had written from her
grandfather’s home last fall before he’d gone to Nashville. He
prayed her family was safe there in St. Francisville, Louisiana.
He’d been at Port Hudson, Louisiana, two years ago and
would have been involved in that skirmish in May, but he’d
been among the ones in the brigade deployed elsewhere in
March. Major General had been sure he had enough soldiers
to turn back the siege, but that had not been the case, and
Port Hudson fell into Union hands in early July.
That battle took place too close to his hometown of
Bayou Sara and had even damaged Grace Church up at St.
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Francisville. He’d seen the damage on his furlough home.
His two older brothers had been captured at Port Hudson,
and Manfred had no idea where they were now.
St. Francisville may have been spared, but it had been a
close call for Sallie’s grandparents and the other citizens of
the small town. He held the worn paper to his lips. With
God’s help he’d get home and claim Sallie for his bride.
The hair on the back of his neck bristled, and goose bumps
popped out on his arms. The foreboding feeling from earlier
wouldn’t leave and swept over him now even stronger, as
though he sat on the edge of something powerful looming in
the day ahead.
Y
St. Francisville, Louisiana
Sallie Dyer sat at her dressing table running a brush through
her mass of tangled curls. Tears blurred her image in the
mirror, and she grimaced as the bristles caught in another
snarl. She dropped the brush onto her lap.
“Lettie, what am I to do? Not knowing about Manfred is
too painful to bear.” She scrunched a handful of auburn hair
against her head. “Nothing’s going right. I can’t even brush
my hair. I hate the war and . . . ” Her voice trailed off, and
she dropped her gaze to the floor then turned toward Lettie.
“What am I to do?”
The housemaid clucked her tongue and fluffed the pillows
on the walnut four-poster bed. “I don’t know, Miss Sallie. I
hate the war too. Too many are dyin’ out there.”
Lettie’s skirt swished as she crossed the room. She picked
up the discarded brush and began smoothing out the mass
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11
of curls. “You know, Miss Sallie, you have the prettiest red
hair in all of Louisiana.”
Sallie lifted her tear-stained eyes and found Lettie’s reflection
in the mirror staring back.
“You got to have courage. God is takin’ care of Mr.
Manfred.”
“Oh, but the waiting is so hard.” Sallie swiped her fingers
across her wet cheeks. In a letter last fall Manfred had written
that he was headed to Nashville. Stories coming back from
that area spoke of the volumes of soldiers killed at Franklin
and then up at Nashville in December. Reports said the surviving
young men had been taken prisoner, but no one knew
to which prison.
“Lettie, do you truly believe Manfred will come home?”
“Yes, Miss Sallie, I do, and when he comes, you’ll be ready
and waitin’.” In a few minutes Lettie’s skilled fingers had
tamed the unruly ringlets and secured them with a silver
clasp at Sallie’s neck.
“Thank you. I’m all out of sorts this morning. Here it is
April, and I haven’t heard a word since November.” Her fears
tumbled back into her mind. “Too many have died, and I
don’t want Manfred . . . ” She couldn’t utter the words. Saying
them might make them true.
She pressed her lips together and pushed a few stray tendrils
from her face. She had to get her fears under control.
She once believed God would give her the peace He promised,
but no matter how hard she prayed, no answers came.
God had abandoned her on that awful day last week when
she had killed that young man. He hadn’t protected her that
afternoon, and now her prayers fell on deaf ears.
Lettie secured the wayward strands with the others under
the clips. “Now, Miss Sallie, I done told you we got to believe
they’re alive and comin’ home. We can’t do nothin’ about
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the war. Your momma and grandma need you to be strong.
When Mr. Manfred gets home, he’ll be courtin’ you right
proper like. You’ll see.”
Lettie must be more concerned than she let on. She only
slipped back to the dialect of her family when worried. Sallie
turned and wrapped her arms around the dark-skinned
girl’s thin waist. “I want to believe you, I really do, but it’s
almost more than I can bear.”
After blinking her eyes to clear them, Sallie stared into the
dark brown eyes of her friend. Lettie had been with Sallie
since childhood, and they shared so much life with each
other. If it had not been for Lettie and her mother, Sallie
might never have regained her sanity after the incident in
Mississippi that brought them all to St. Francisville.
A chill passed through her body at the memory of the
day they had fled from their home. Sallie’s last act of defense
would be one that would stay with her the rest of her life.
Even now she could see the young soldier with the red
oozing from his chest. It was the first time she’d ever seen
a dead person, and now, only a week later, the image would
not leave her, fresh as the day it happened.
The young servant’s brow furrowed, and she pursed her
lips. “Are you thinking about what happened back home?”
How well Lettie knew her. Sallie sniffed and blinked away
the tears.
“Then you best stop it. What you did had to be done, and
we both know it. You saved all our lives.”
It didn’t matter that Lettie spoke true. The images of war
could not be erased from Sallie’s mind. “I just want this war
to end.”
“Well now, I want that too, but it’s all in God’s hands. But
think how Mr. Charles and Mr. Henry got back from the war
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13
only a few weeks ago. Theo’s back home too, so you have to
believe the other two will come home before long.”
True. Of the five Whiteman brothers, only Edwin and
Manfred remained unaccounted for. Charles and Henry
Whiteman had been taken prisoner at Port Hudson but
exchanged and sent home. Even Theo now sat safe at home
after his last escapade revealed him too young to be in the
army. She must have hope for Manfred and Edwin.
Lettie lifted the edge of her white apron and patted Sallie’s
cheeks dry. “There now, Miss Sallie. It’s all goin’ to be fine.
It’ll all be over soon. I just know it. I feel it in my bones.
Besides, Easter’s a comin’, and that means a new season, new
life, and new hope.”
“You and Mama, the eternal optimists, but I love you for it.
You always know how to make me feel better.” Sallie breathed
deeply and reached for a green ribbon to secure in her hair.
She would get through this day just as she had all the ones
since Manfred left. Then the memory of what she overheard
between her father and mother last night drained away her
determination. She peered up at Lettie. “I need to tell you
something.” Sallie squeezed the hand now clasped in hers.
At Lettie’s solemn nod Sallie took a deep breath and
revealed her worry. “Last night I couldn’t sleep, and I heard
Papa come in from his trip back to Woodville. I sneaked
downstairs to see him, but he was in the parlor talking to
Grandpa.”
Sallie’s lips trembled. “Our house in Woodville is ruined.
The Yanks ransacked the place and took all kinds of things
from our home. Papa said they’d left it in shambles. Mama’s
beautiful things. Oh, Lettie, it’s just terrible.” After Sallie and
the other women had fled the land, Papa and her brothers
stayed behind until the next day, then joined the rest of the
family in St. Francisville. He’d gone back to Woodville a
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few days ago, a twenty-five mile journey, when he heard the
Yankees had moved on north.
Lettie pressed her hand against her cheek, her eyes open
wide. “Oh, I’m sorry. Your poor mama. It’s so sad. No wonder
you’re feelin’ blue this morning.”
Sallie squeezed Lettie’s hand again and for the next few
moments sat in silence. Lettie understood her better than
anyone else. The servant girl knew her deepest secrets and
could be trusted to keep them.
“You are such a comfort. I don’t know how I’d get through
these days without you to share my worries.”
Lettie patted Sallie’s hand. “We’ve been together too long
and been through too much for me not to be with you.” She
stepped back. “Come, now, let’s get you dressed. Your family
will be waitin’, and you know your grandpa doesn’t like cold
eggs or tardy children, even if you are his favorite.”
That statement brought a bit of smile. She did love
Grandpa Woodruff, but he could be gruff when the occasion
arose. She hastened over to a bench by the bed and picked up
a green and white print cotton dress. Lettie grasped it and
slipped her arms up inside it, and Sallie held up her arms.
“I believe Mama invited the Whiteman family for supper
one night soon. I’m anxious to speak to Manfred’s mother.
Perhaps she’s heard from him.”
The dress billowed about her as Lettie placed it over Sallie’s
shoulders. She pulled the bodice up over arms and let the
full skirt fell down over her hips and the myriad number of
petticoats. At least Mama and Grandma didn’t require her to
wear a corset or hoops with her day dresses. Lettie’s nimble
fingers went to work on the buttons lined up the back.
“I think you lost more weight, missy. This dress is looser
than it was last week. You sure don’t even need your corset.
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15
You have to eat more.” She peered over Sallie’s shoulder into
the mirror and shook her head.
Looking over her shoulder, Sallie smoothed the dress
around her waist. She gathered the wrinkles from the excess
fabric. “It is big, but I’m just not hungry.” At Lettie’s stern
gaze she added, “But I’ll try to eat more.”
Lettie sniffed the air. “If that aroma coming from the
kitchen is what I think it is, my mammy’s ham and eggs
should do the trick. She’ll have biscuits and gravy too.”
Sallie nodded. “I promise I’ll eat some of everything this
morning.” A promise she would try to keep, especially with
her grandmother’s and Flora’s cooking being so delicious.
The two girls locked arms and walked down the stairs
together. At the bottom Lettie headed for the kitchen to help
her mother. Sallie forced a smile to her lips and went into the
dining room to join her family for breakfast.
Rogers-

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