When the war came on, there were three children—a brother and sister older than I. In August, 1861, my brother enlisted in the second company that left Gadsden, and joined the 19th Alabama Infantry. My sister and I lived with our mother on the farm. We were at home on the morning of May 2, 1863, when about eight or nine o’clock a company of men wearing blue uniforms and riding mules and horses galloped past the house and went on towards the bridge.
Pretty soon a great crowd of them came along, and some of them stopped at the gate and asked us to bring them some water. Sister and I each took a bucket of water, and gave it to them at the gate. One of them asked me where my father was. I told him he was dead. He asked me if I had any brothers. I told him I had six. He asked where they were, and I said they were in the Confederate Army.
“Do they think the South will whip [us]?”
“They do.”
“What do you think about it?”
“I think God is on our side and we will win.”
“You do? Well, if you had seen us whip Colonel Roddey the other day and run him across the…river, you would have thought God was on the side of the best artillery.”
By this time some of them began to dismount, and we went into the house. They came in and began to search for firearms and men’s saddles. They did not find anything but a side-saddle, and one of them cut the skirts off that. Just then someone from the road said, in a loud tone: “You men bring a chunk of fire with you, and get out of that house.” The men got the fire in the kitchen and started out, and an officer put a guard around the house, saying, “This guard is for your protection.” They all soon hurried down to the bridge, and in a few minutes we saw the smoke rising and knew they were burning the bridge. As our fence extended up to the railing of the bridge, mother said: “Come with me and we will pull our rails away, so they will not be destroyed.”
As we got to the top of the hill we saw the rails were already piled on the bridge and were on fire, and the Yankees were line on the other side guarding it. We turned back towards the house, and had not gone but a few steps before we saw a Yankee coming at full speed, and behind were some more men on horses. I heard them shout, “Halt! and surrender!” The man stopped, threw up his hand, and handed over his gun.
The officer to whom the soldier surrendered said, “Ladies, do not be alarmed. I am General Forrest; I and my men will protect you from harm.” He inquired: “Where are the Yankees?” Mother said: “They have set the bridge on fire and are standing in line on the other side, and if you go down that hill they will kill the last one of you.”
By this time our men had come up, and some went out into the field, and both sides commenced shooting. We ran to the house, and I got there ahead of all. General Forrest dashed up to the gate and said to me: “Can you tell me where I can get across that creek?” I told him there was an unsafe bridge two miles farther down the stream, but that I knew of a trail about two hundred yards above the bridge on our farm, where our cows used to cross in low water, and I believed he could get his men over there, and that if he would have my saddle put on a horse I would show him the way. He said, “There is no time to saddle a horse; get up here behind me.” As he said this he rode close to the bank on the side of the road, and I jumped up behind him.
Just as we started off mother came up about out of breath and gasped out, “Emma, what do you mean?”
General Forrest said: “She is going to show me a ford where I can get my men over in time to catch those Yankees… Don’t be uneasy; I will bring her back safe.”
We rode out into a field through which ran a branch or small ravine and along which there was a thick undergrowth that protected us for a while from being seen by the Yankees at the bridge or on the other side of the creek. This branch emptied into the creek just above the ford. When we got close to the creek, I said, ‘General Forrest, I think we had better get off the horse, as we are now where we may be seen.’ We both got down and crept through the bushes, and when we were right at the ford I happened to be in front. He stepped quickly between me and the Yankees, saying, “I am glad to have you for a pilot, but I am not going to make breastworks1 of you.”
The cannon and the other guns were firing fast by this time, as I pointed out to him where to go into the water and out on the other bank, and then we went back towards the house. He asked me my name, and asked me to give him a lock of hair. The cannonballs were screaming over us so loud that we were told to leave and hide in some place out of danger, which we did. Soon all the firing stopped, and I started back home. On the way I met General Forrest again, and he told me that he had written a note for me and left it on the bureau. He asked me again for a lock of my hair, and as we went into the house he said, “One of my bravest men has been killed, and he is laid out in the house. His name is Robert Turner. I want you to see that he is buried in some graveyard near here.”
He then told me good-bye and got on his horse, and he and his men rode away and left us all alone. My sister and I sat up all night watching over the dead soldier, who had lost his life fighting for our rights, in which we were overpowered but never conquered…
could you help me determine the theme of this story
jimm, what is the story about? That's the theme.
Also ... sometimes you can think of the theme as the life lesson that the author wants his/her readers to get!
Interesting idea ... and it works!