the loss. He just wanted to go home. Now, a coat from the other side caught his attention among the thousands. It was John.
Williams’s blood turned cold within him as it left his face and dropped him to his knees. Looking upon the blood spattered body of his brother, he knew without a doubt, that John was dead. William hung his head and cried. “What has hate brought to us brother? What has it brought?” he sobbed and sobbed. His comrades heard the cries of a pitiful man and soon recognized their friend.
“William?” asked Dobbs, one of his fellow privates. “Why do you cry over this confederate?”
“This…is my brother” William replied.
Dobbs stood silent as William tried to stand. Then suddenly, in the shock of the aftermath and loss of blood, William collapsed. It was three days before he awoke in the hospital, lying beside the window of amputated body parts and in a room with those who were left to live with the memory of the momentous hill of slaughter.
#
Now entering the gates of the magnificent plantation, he saw row after row of black folks walking past him with few possessions in hand. They were free, but now made way to find lives they’d either forgotten or never known. Freedom was bitter sweet. Many had perished for crimes the white felt justified. Now black was deemed free, yet not yet equal. Finding work, food, shelter; would be difficult. Despite the struggle that lay ahead, they moved forward.
William smiled and nodded at the few slaves he’d remembered as a child. Their smiles were hesitant, but sincere. The occasional tip of the hat was offered in recognition for his willingness to stand. He’d been one of the ‘good guys’, they’d concurred, yet—he was still a Jacobs.
As his horse neared the house, William could hear the voice of a very familiar soul shouting for glee. “William!”
William turned his head to see the bountiful aunt he’d always loved running to him with open arms. Eager to see her, he quickly dismounted and embraced her with open arms. His shoulder hurt like hell, but it didn’t matter. He was glad to have seen her first. It made coming back seem less awkward.
“Oh dear boy!” she said joyfully. “It sure is good to see you!”
“Good to see you too Aunty Marg.”
“How you doing? How’s the shoulder?”
The family had been telegrammed with the news of both sons. John’s death would no doubt cause a ruckus for William. His shoulder wound was minor to the pain he’d have to face with his parents.
“It’s fine Aunty, just fine.”
As they got reacquainted, the door to the house opened and shut. He looked to the porch and saw his father standing there, staring him down with cold resentment. Unwilling to embrace his treacherous son, he left the porch and walked to the barn; shunning William’s existence.
Still William had to try.
Entering the house, his mama was waiting for him quietly at the bottom of the staircase. She wore a long yellow dress with white lace. She looked old and smelled of booze. She stared at him as if she was staring at a stranger.
“Hi Mama” William said. “I’m home.”
She looked at him with wonder. “William…” That was all she said. She smiled slightly, but then heard the footprints of her husband as he came up the porch.
Door opened and William turned around quickly. “Hello father” he said.
“I am not your father” he said sternly. “My only son was killed fighting for our pride.”
“Gerry!” scolded his mother.
“You stay out of it!” he said harshly.
“He was my son too. Both of them are” she said.
“You remember whose side you were on!”
“Father…you can’t treat her like that!”
“You…Yankee…You are NOT welcome in my home!”
“We can’t turn William away!”
“You want to lay down with the slaves; you stay in their quarters and fend for your own feed. I wash my hands of ya!” his father began to turn and walk away and then said “You best not be
Williams’s blood turned cold within him as it left his face and dropped him to his knees. Looking upon the blood spattered body of his brother, he knew without a doubt, that John was dead. William hung his head and cried. “What has hate brought to us brother? What has it brought?” he sobbed and sobbed. His comrades heard the cries of a pitiful man and soon recognized their friend.
“William?” asked Dobbs, one of his fellow privates. “Why do you cry over this confederate?”
“This…is my brother” William replied.
Dobbs stood silent as William tried to stand. Then suddenly, in the shock of the aftermath and loss of blood, William collapsed. It was three days before he awoke in the hospital, lying beside the window of amputated body parts and in a room with those who were left to live with the memory of the momentous hill of slaughter.
#
Now entering the gates of the magnificent plantation, he saw row after row of black folks walking past him with few possessions in hand. They were free, but now made way to find lives they’d either forgotten or never known. Freedom was bitter sweet. Many had perished for crimes the white felt justified. Now black was deemed free, yet not yet equal. Finding work, food, shelter; would be difficult. Despite the struggle that lay ahead, they moved forward.
William smiled and nodded at the few slaves he’d remembered as a child. Their smiles were hesitant, but sincere. The occasional tip of the hat was offered in recognition for his willingness to stand. He’d been one of the ‘good guys’, they’d concurred, yet—he was still a Jacobs.
As his horse neared the house, William could hear the voice of a very familiar soul shouting for glee. “William!”
William turned his head to see the bountiful aunt he’d always loved running to him with open arms. Eager to see her, he quickly dismounted and embraced her with open arms. His shoulder hurt like hell, but it didn’t matter. He was glad to have seen her first. It made coming back seem less awkward.
“Oh dear boy!” she said joyfully. “It sure is good to see you!”
“Good to see you too Aunty Marg.”
“How you doing? How’s the shoulder?”
The family had been telegrammed with the news of both sons. John’s death would no doubt cause a ruckus for William. His shoulder wound was minor to the pain he’d have to face with his parents.
“It’s fine Aunty, just fine.”
As they got reacquainted, the door to the house opened and shut. He looked to the porch and saw his father standing there, staring him down with cold resentment. Unwilling to embrace his treacherous son, he left the porch and walked to the barn; shunning William’s existence.
Still William had to try.
Entering the house, his mama was waiting for him quietly at the bottom of the staircase. She wore a long yellow dress with white lace. She looked old and smelled of booze. She stared at him as if she was staring at a stranger.
“Hi Mama” William said. “I’m home.”
She looked at him with wonder. “William…” That was all she said. She smiled slightly, but then heard the footprints of her husband as he came up the porch.
Door opened and William turned around quickly. “Hello father” he said.
“I am not your father” he said sternly. “My only son was killed fighting for our pride.”
“Gerry!” scolded his mother.
“You stay out of it!” he said harshly.
“He was my son too. Both of them are” she said.
“You remember whose side you were on!”
“Father…you can’t treat her like that!”
“You…Yankee…You are NOT welcome in my home!”
“We can’t turn William away!”
“You want to lay down with the slaves; you stay in their quarters and fend for your own feed. I wash my hands of ya!” his father began to turn and walk away and then said “You best not be
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