The Difficult Walk

A strange smell flooded the air. Winds blowing north carried a strong scent that reminded Jonathan of beef in a frying pan. Something was off though; the smell was tainted by a metallic aroma. The odor intensified more than ever as his company continued marching towards Manassas Junction. It wasn't until after they hiked down the Bull Run Mountains, that the smells' origins became evident.

“That damn Lincoln, if he knows what’s best for him he’ll drop out of the race.”

Jonathan turned his head and rolled his eyes as he usually disagreed with his mother’s political antics. He’d had many battles with his family on the subject but he wasn't in the mood for another.

“If the bastard wins, he’ll bring war upon us.”

“No he wont mother.”

“You must be mad! The man wishes to abolish slavery and the southern way of life. It won’t be tolerated. There's already talks of Secession.”

“His intentions are just to stop the spread of slavery, not end it. Haven’t you read the papers?”

“I didn’t raise you like this, what has gotten into you?”

Jonathan angrily got up from the dining room table and made his way out the front door. A walk around his family’s plantation usually helped clear his mind. Ever since the announcement of Lincoln’s candidacy, his family’s Virginian plantation transitioned into a debate floor for southerners. Each night leading up to the presidential announcement politicians from every state in the south made their way to his home, Rosedale, where they’d spend hours discussing how to go about the election outcomes. It was 1860 and most knew the split in the democratic party would lead to Lincoln’s win, so states began readying for secession. His father, George Pickett, was a West Point graduate who rarely closed his lips on the subject, remaining dauntless with every remark. While Jonathan tended to stray from his father’s views, his mother and brother, Alexander, were quite outspoken on George’s patriotism. Coming from a plantation with a little over a hundred and fifty slaves, Jonathan thought it was understandable for them to try to justify their beliefs. As much as Jonathan tried to see slavery from their perspective he couldn't get behind the practice, but he wasn’t always that way.

Growing up on Rosedale was paradise for Jonathan and Alexander. With busy parents, Alex and Jonathan became very close not only with each other, but with the slaves. He prayed every night for the protection of his slaves so he would have someone to take care of him. In the beginning he saw no flaws in the practice, but it all changed one day after an interaction he had with his favorite slave Joseph. The incident occured when he was ten years old playing hide and seek in the cotton fields with his brother. Jonathan pulled Alex aside after supper and asked him to play. He and Alex tiptoed down the creaky porch steps as his mother didn’t approve of their “childish” games. Jon took his last step off the porch and took off for the field yelling “I’m hiding first,” to his brother. He ran for the well near the slave quarters as he knew it would be the last place his brother would search. The well was quite deep and had cobblestone walls surrounding it. Jon climbed onto the walls of it and sat as he waited for Alex. Around ten minutes passed without a single sight of his brother. His daring self decided to stand on the cobblestone to try and find him, but his footing got the best of him. He slipped into the well, and began crying for help.

“Help me! Anyone please.”

Minutes turned into hours and his arms grew weaker from the constant treading. Then a glimpse of hope arrived when his slave Joseph’s face appeared at the top of the well.

“Masta, whatcha doin down there?”

“Joseph help! I can’t do this much longer. Get me out!”

“I go getcha a rope ser Jonathan.”

Achiness and pain soared through Jon as Joseph pulled him up. When he reached the top,

Joseph's face caught his attention. As a child he was told slaves didn't experience emotions but something was different about him. He saw the look of relief and joy in his eyes that came from the comfort of his safety. Then things took a turn for the worse as the plantation’s slave patrollers arrived.

“You tryin drown the Mr. Picketts son?”

Jonathan gave them a confused look and replied with, “No, he saved me from the well.” “That’s not what I saw,” one of the men said.

“I promise, I never do that. I love this boy. He my masta.”

The men began approaching despite Jon and Joseph’s innocent pleas. Jon watched in horror as the merciless men began kicking and punching Joseph. His eyes filled with tears as he continuously begged the men to stop. Delight in the patrollers faces made him sick to his stomach. A disgusting taste from that night never left his mouth and from that day forward he vowed to never conform to the southern ways.

November 6th, 1860 was a day that Jonathan knew he’d never forget. That morning he awoke to the sound of screams coming from the kitchen. He frantically put on his trousers and ran downstairs to investigate. A ​Progressive​ newspaper lay on the table with the headline,“Lincoln Elected!” Jonathan held in his excitement as he figured his family would most likely exile him for showing any joy towards the news. He saw his mother sobbing on her knees as if she had lost a child. She mumbled about losing the slaves and Rosedale. As sad as she was, Jonathan anticipated a much worse reaction from his father and brother. To his surprise he found the two seemingly calm having a discussion in his father’s office. Both had stern expressions and were talking with diligence. Interested to hear, Jonathan approached the office to join in.

Alex turned to him with a look of anger. “What are you doing here? Rub it in why don’t you. This is what you wanted, the end of Rosedale!”

“You think I want Rosedale to end? What is wrong with you?! You’ve changed Alex!”

His father’s furious glare turned to Jon. “Don’t talk to your brother like that, and get the hell out of my office!”

Jonathan stormed out of the office and left the house to walk Rosedale’s grounds. He’d always felt like an outsider in his family, but his brother’s remarks intensified the feeling. As happy as the election news made him, he couldn't help but feel abandoned. Alex had been his best friend, but today he saw a new side of him. Jon feared his brother had turned into the same monster the slave patrollers were.

Over the next few months Jon found himself trudging through day to day life. He kept to himself, eating dinner alone in his room, and rarely speaking to his family. He always overheard his family talking about new states seceding but paid no attention to it. Most times he found himself meandering to the nearby town of Alexandria to hear word of the eminent war. Jonathan knew deep down that a war was coming that would force him to choose a side. From his trips to the city he found out that rebel soldiers were going from house to house recruiting able men to serve. The internal struggle for him was determining what side to fight for. He knew his morals aligned with the Union, but his home, family, and way of life tied him to the confederacy. On March 7th, 1861 the fateful day arrived. After hearing a knock on the door he rushed downstairs to answer, but his brother got there first.

“Good afternoon sir. We are looking for men to serve under the command of General Lee to fight for the pride of the south. Is there anyone in the household that would be interested?”

Jon watched as his brother’s face lit up at the opportunity.

“Of course sir! My father, brother, and I are all fit to serve and would love to get at the Yankee scum that intend to destroy our lives.”

Brother​, thought Jon. ​He can’t make me serve​. Jon was usually quite reserved, but the fact that his brother, who he hadn’t spoken to in months, was now offering him to support a cause he didn’t believe in enraged him. As soon as the soldier left Jon didn’t waiver in making his presence known.

“Brother? So now you want to be my brother? You outcast me from my own home and expect me to fight alongside you!”

“You do that to yourself! Father and I have had enough of your defiance! If you don't fight you're a coward and don't deserve this family!”

Appalled by his brother's statement, he began to make his way back to his room when he heard his father’s deep voice.

“What seems to be the matter?”

With a childish smirk Alex replied, “A soldier came by asking all able men in the house to fight for the South.”

“This is wonderful news, is it not? Why did I hear bickering?”

“Jonathan refuses to fight! He’s a coward and a traitor to this home.”

His father’s penetrating stare impaled him. “Is this true? Are you unwilling to serve?” Panic set in as Jonathan knew his next words would determine the future relationship he had with his family.

“I can’t. I’d be lying to myself if I said I supported the principles of the south.” Jonathan realized the consequences of his response, but figured dying over an unjust cause was below himself.

Disappointment covered his father’s face. “If you don’t support the south, you don’t support this family. You have an hour to collect your things and leave. You are no longer welcome at Rosedale.”

Jonathan’s jaw dropped. He couldn't believe his family was turning against him. It was as if eighteen years of life with them meant nothing. With a battered and worn heart, he lost all energy to fight to stay. The thought: ​why should I stay with people that no longer love me crossed his mind while he began packing. He gathered his things and made his way towards the door. On his way down the steps he saw his mother standing by the door. She had sorrow written all over her as her face was pink and covered in tears. In her hand was a knapsack that looked full of food. Jonathan saw her try to speak, but words were far from coming out. Instead she embraced him for the first time in a while. His mother’s hug brought a sense of comfort that made him think everything was going to be okay. Her big blue eyes spoke to Jon with a regretful tone. She placed the knapsack in Jon’s hands and said, “I love you.” Her kindness in the situation put him at a loss for words and water fell down his cheeks. After another long embrace he grabbed his things and made his way down the creaky porch steps. Jonathan usually was the one with a plan, but he had no idea where to go. With no money or method of transportation he decided his only option was to head north and join the Union army.

A couple of months had passed since Jon left his home to join the Yankees. When enlisting, his nerves were at an all time high. Thoughts of death often crossed his mind, but what always brought him back was the image of Joseph laying beaten and bruised. He remembered that if he didn’t fight for him, who would. After completing a month-long training camp, he found himself a part of Company D under the leadership of Captain John Quincy Adams Nadenbousch. The momentous event at Fort Sumter that had initiated the war caused training to be cut a few weeks early as troops began preparing for another battle. Camp was tough as soldiers were given little food and shelter. Officers claimed it was to better prepare them for war, but Jon knew it was due to a shortage in supplies. On the night of July sixteenth, he was told their company would leave for Manassas Junction the next morning. Hearing the news made Jon queasy. Before this moment, his decisions didn't feel real. No one had died at Fort Sumter which gave him hope that the conflict was smaller than he thought and would soon end. The idea of going into battle and shooting a man scared him. All night long he tossed and turned during his sleep. He woke up in a puddle of sweat and turned to the guy next to him.

“Pssst. You awake?”

“I am now, what the hell do ya want?”

“What’s your name?”

“You woke me up to ask my name?”

“No, but I’d like to know who I’m talking to first.”

“The name’s Zachary Green, but everyone calls me Spice.”

“You nervous?”

“Yeah, all these men are. If they say they aren't it’s a lie.”

Jonathan took comfort in his answer. After a small discussion with Spice, he was finally able to get some rest before they set out.

The sun's rays beat down on the men's back as they made the three and a half day walk from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania to Manassas, Virginia. The company made few stops in order to arrive on the twenty first of July. To keep sane, Jonathan found himself growing closer to Spice. Talking with him about life before the war kept his mind off the pain in his feet, the growling of his stomach, and the heat that battered his energy. On their journey Spice told Jon about his job as a tailor. He mentioned all the funny people that came into his store blabbing about how preposterous it was that their suit fits too long. Jon liked how Spice was able to make him laugh in such a terrifying situation. During the last day of their walk, both men made a pact to send a letter of each other’s bravery to their family in the instance one passes away. To prevent leaving one behind they also planned on staying together through the battle.

The morning of July twenty first was a solemn one. Captain Nadenbousch alerted the company that they were to cross the Bull Run Mountains and act as a reinforcement to McDowell’s troops that were already engaged in combat. Jonathan’s hands began shaking. All around him men dropped to their knees and began praying. He looked for his friend Spice, who was doing the same. Jonathan was a faithful man, but did not practice as much as he wanted to. Fear overcame him and he too dropped to his knees and prayed for a safe return for him and the men around him. A drum was played to signal the men to prepare for battle. The sound rang in Jon’s head as he wondered if that’s be the last thing he’d hear. The company made their way up the mountain taking note of the foul smell that surrounded them.

Jon tugged at Spice. “What do you think that smell is?”

“That wasn’t you?”

The joke was meant to put Jon at ease, but something gave him an off feeling about the odor. As the group made their way down the mountain, nothing prepared them for the horrors they began to witness.

As Jon worked his way towards the battlefront, he saw the terror and agonized expressions of retreating soldiers. He felt his heart skip a beat when he noticed a man with a missing leg due to a cannonball shot being carried off the field. It was at that moment he realized where the smell was coming from. Rotten flesh. Second thoughts instantly crossed Jon’s mind and if it weren’t for Spice’s eagerness to fight, he may have left. As they got closer to the front it became impossible to see or hear. Gun smoke had created a fog over the field that made it hard for Jonathan to see Spice. Bullets whizzed past his ears and triggered his adrenaline that lessened some of the nerves.

Spice grabbed Jon’s hand. “We fight for free-”

Blood splattered across Jon’s face as he watched Spice plummet to the earth. Still holding his limp hand, Jon was overcome by shock. He dropped to the ground and his attention was directed towards Spice’s cold beatty eyes that had been so lively seconds before. Jon was utterly lost and couldn't comprehend what had just happened. The world slowed down and he looked in every direction for help. He stumbled over bodies unfazed, intending to get help for Spice. He grabbed a passing soldier's ankle and pulled him down.

“Help my friend! Do something!”

The soldier gave Jon a bewildered stare. “He’s dead. I can’t do anything.” “You're lying! Get up Spice! Show him! Spice, get up!”

The soldier got up and began firing, leaving Jon alone with Spice’s body.

He continued his cries for help, but remained unanswered. The sounds of combat drowned his voice and he was quickly reminded of the well incident. Loneliness and helplessness were brought back into his mind as he sat there next to Spice. He brushed his fingers against his face and held them in front of him. Spice’s blood stained his inner palms as he clenched his hands. Just as he vowed to fight for Joseph he intended to do the same for Spice. He rose from the cold earth being sure to collect Spice’s letter and bullets. His heart grieved for the losses taking place around him, but he didn’t want them to die in vain so he pushed forward. He picked up his rifle with all the strength he had left and began firing. As valiantly as they pushed forward, his company was no match for the cavalry charge led by Confederate Colonel Jeb Stuart. Jon followed his men as they retreated back to the mountain.

The devastation from the Battle of Bull Run never left Jonathan. Night terrors became a common occurrence for him and he became closed off to the world. After Spice’s death he stopped getting close to other’s with the fear they too would pass. His innocence was butchered that day along with several men on both sides. He went on to fight fourteen more battles with Company D before the war was put to rest. As horrifying as the Battle of Chancellorsville and Gettysberg were, he still believed Bull Run was the worst. That battle changed him, turning his heart bitter and making him lose faith in humanity. He often wondered how humans could do this to one another. It wasn’t until the surrender at Appomattox Court House in 1865 that some hope in humanity was restored. The war was over and for the second time in five years he didn’t know what to do. He longed to see Rosedale once more, but did not know if his banishment would make for a sour visit. Despite his father's words he decided to buy a train ticket to Alexandria. In the back of his head thoughts ran rampant. ​Is Alexander alive? Is father alive? Where did the slaves go? Will they welcome me with open arms?

When he stepped off the train he was shocked to see the war torn town. Buildings were covered in bullet holes and some were burned to the ground. This sparked new worries of whether Rosedale lay in the same conditions. He made his way down the gravel road that led to his home. To his surprise he was greeted by his former slaves when he stepped on the grounds.

“Why haven't you all left,” he asked the man to his right. “Didn't you hear about the Emancipation Proclamation?”

“Where we s’posed to go masta?”

The question lingered in his mind and tore at his heart. He felt horrible that they had not experienced a normal life, been able to make money, or even own anything.

“Well from now on you’ll be paid for your services. Understand?”

The former slaves nodded with ecstatic faces.

“Now, can someone give me the rundown of what’s happened since I left?”

“Well, masta Pickett and Alex wen off to fight. They aint come back yet though. Some yanks done came a while back an set the fields a fire.”

“Where’s my mother?”

“She in the house ser.”

“Thank you,” he replied as he began making his way to the house. He started his way up the porch steps that still creaked beneath his feet. His heart grew lighter as a weight was lifted from the comfort of being home. Jonathan knocked on the door, excited to see his mother who had mourned his departure. The door opened. In the doorway he saw his mother, but she seemed different. The bags under her eyes sagged more than ever and the smile that was usually attached to her was absent.

“Mom, I’m home.”

Her eyes opened wide, but her lips remained pursed.

“It’s me Jonathan, don’t you remember?”

“Get the hell off this property!”

“What?”

“Did I not make myself clear?! Leave!”

“What is wrong with you, I didn’t do anything?”

“You ruined this family! Alexander is dead and my husband is missing because of you Yankee scum! You’ve ruined my land and this is no home of yours! Now you have a minute to leave before I call the authorities!”

He took his last steps down the creaky porch with his heart in shambles. On his way down the gravel path all he could think about was Alexander’s death. No matter who’s fault his death was, Jonathan blamed himself. Each day he questioned his decision to leave home and join the Union army. Post traumatic stress disorder from the war didn’t help with his pain either.

Depression from his family's banishment was now topped with the terrors of war that surfaced anytime he heard loud noises like fireworks and train whistles. After several months of anguish he turned to drinking to numb the pain. Jonathan found himself again trudging through day to day life. At the age of fifty eight, Jonathan took his last breath as he succumbed to liver failure. He was given an honorable soldier's burial at Arlington National Cemetery where the remainder of his company laid him to rest. Engraved on his tombstone writes: ​The hero who made the difficult walk.