THE MAN WHO GAVE HIS LIFE FOR A THOUSAND DOLLARS
A TRUE CIVIL WAR STORY. . .
By Caroline Dowde
CHAPTER I
It was with a happy heart and heavy tired feet that Green Little trudged along the narrow path by Deep River that led to his home near Asheboro, North Carolina. He was returning from his enlistment in the Confederate Army after two lonely years away from home.[i]
Green Little loved every tree and bush in this familiar old woods where he had hunted and fished all his life. The squirrels scolded and sent warning signals to each other and the possums played dead as he walked thoughtfully along. He was wondering if he would find his family up so early. He hoped they were all alive and well; it had been so long since he had heard from them. As he neared the cabin, he gave the old whistle that they all knew so well and waited to see what would happen. Smoke was coming from the chimney, so they must be up. He came a little closer and whistled once more.
In the house, Mrs. Little and six children[ii] sat at the large square table eating corn cakes and molasses. Robert, the oldest boy at home since David had been called was saying, “Listen, I hear a whistle.” Mother looked up from her plate and replied hesitantly, “It could be a bird.” “Oh, no, I don’t think so,” persisted Robert. When the second whistle was heard, everyone knew it was Pappy.
In the rush to get to the door, the table was pushed over, the dishes spilled on the floor, and all the children came out falling over each other. As they rushed to embrace the weary figure, they clamored over and over, “Oh, Pappy, you are home at last.” Mother was the last to greet him. Getting the table and benches from under foot and salvaging the dishes had held her back.
“Why, Mother, aren’t you glad to see me?” were Pappy’s first words to her as he folded her in his arms. This was the woman he had loved so many years and had missed so much during his absence. Mother hurriedly assured him that she was glad to see him, she had been so worried and it had been so long since she had heard from him. She told him she had a letter from their son David and that he was well. Her next words were, “Oh, you are so dirty!”
“I know I am,” Pappy chuckled, “But I would like some coffee before you start cleaning me up.”
After a noisy breakfast, Robert and John were sent to the spring with buckets to fill the big black kettle in the backyard in which they heated all the water to wash or scrub with. Mother set about getting clean clothes ready, and the younger girls were sent scurrying to get the tub ready in the woodshed. Pappy was relaxing over his coffee enjoying the gay clamor when he saw Louise, his oldest daughter, coming out of Mother’s bedroom. His smile broadened.
Louise was called Ludie for short. Pappy had given her that name when she was a very little girl. She had always been the apple of his eye. She was now eighteen and a big girl indeed, with square shoulders like a man and all of five feet six in height. When Pappy was away, she considered herself the head of the family. Pappy wanted it that way. He could trust her, and he knew she always used good judgment.
“What have you there?” Mother nodded toward Ludie’s hand.
“Oh, you know how gad the lye soap smells,” Ludie answered. “Pappy doesn’t like it, so I am going to drop in a bit of musk essence in the soap for him.” Mother smiled and agreed he would like that.
After the bath and clean clothes, Pappy felt like a new man. The only thing wrong was that his long black hair was standing up like a wild man’s. One look into the broken mirror and he went into a rage. His beard was even as a March here. Mother cried, “Go quickly! Get the mutton tallow for him.” One of the girls came running with it and saved the day.
The rest of the day was spent talking about all the things that had happened while Pappy was away. Mother had warned the children not to tell him anything bad, like when the biggest sheep got tangled up in the fishing line and fell into Deep River, or the time the ash pit caught fire. They saved the ashes from the hearth to make lye for soap.
Everything went well in the evening. The children went to bed early. The boys slept in the loft and they did a few acrobatic tricks for Pappy as they climbed the ladder and pulled it up behind them.
When all was still in the house, Ludie sat down at the table with Mother and Pappy to talk about the more serious side of things. They told him about the debts they had been forced to make and about the boys being such poor shots at hunting. They wanted so much lead, for they couldn’t even mold it right. Ludie said they were both lazy and were always fighting about who would hoe the garden. She said Mother took their part about the garden and made the girls help and they chopped up every other hill of beans. It seemed that no one could hoe except John, and it wasn’t fair for him to have to do it all. A cool breeze came up and Mother got up to close the window and then went into her room to get ready for bed.
Ludie was glad to be left alone with Pappy as she had so many troubles on her mind that she hadn’t bothered Mother with. She asked Pappy if he had noticed her faded dress. He nodded and said he thought it used to be pink and now it was white, and he also wondered why her shawl was so patched. She told him calico was $1.00 a yard and she had begged Mother to get her goods for a dress. When she had finally talked her into it, Mr. Frazier had been very insulting when they were in the store looking at the goods. He had said, “Mrs. Little, you know you can’t afford to be buying yard goods for dresses. I have only one or two bolts left. You had better leave it for someone who can afford to buy it.” Ludie also told Pappy about going to the mill with the boys for corn meal and as they passed the Ashworth plantation two little negro boys called them white trash and made fun of her faded dress.
She was in tears as she went on to tell that someone had killed their dog; he was such a good hound dog and they needed him so. She wondered how soon the war would be over and if things would ever be the same as they used to. Pappy gave her his handkerchief to dry her eyes and said he would see what he could do about it all very soon. He told her to go to bed now and let him carry on tomorrow.
The day after his homecoming , Pappy went hunting and took John and Lucy Ann with him. Lucy Ann was the youngest girl. Her long black hair was plaited and tied tightly around her head to keep the brush and briars from hurting her. Lucy Ann and John were both tall and thin and looked very much alike when Lucy Ann wore boys’ clothes, as she often did. Pappy had promised them when they were older he would take them hunting, and now was the time. They carried their lunch in the canvas hunting bag and went off singing. They were still singing after they crossed the river, so loudly, in fact, that Mother and the girls could recognize the tune, “Froggie Went A’ Courting.”
Robert was given his work instructions for the day. Betsey Jane and Caroline were assigned to filling up the brick dust box which was to be kept full at all times. They used the dust to clean the pots and the board tables so they didn’t need so much soap. The girls liked this job; they thought it was fun. They put the brick in a bag and sat and pounded it to dust with a hammer on the flat rocks by the river.
Mother washed clothes as usual. It seemed that she was always washing. Ludie accused her of washing for a pastime, but today she had Pappy’s clothes as an excuse. After doing the washing Mother returned to see if the work had been done at the house.
As evening drew near, Ludie wondered what to do about supper. If it had been the boys that went hunting she would have had the Jackie peas and side pork on cooking, but Pappy was different. He loved roasted meat so she dug some sweet potatoes and kept a good bed of hot coals on the hearth.
Lucy Ann returned first with her pockets and arms full of wild grapes and saying she sure missed her dress or apron to carry the grapes. She complained of scratches and tired feet and said she knew Pappy had shot something because he had some kind of a tail on his hat and so did John.
The next morning Pappy was up early. He took the axe and went out to the clearing to start in where he had left off before he went away. He had to make the tobacco patch larger if he was to make any money, but, for some reason that he couldn’t answer to himself, his interest was gone. He sat down on a log and tried to figure things out in his mind. The war was going well, that he knew, but supplies were not what they should be. He wondered how it would affect him if the South should lose the war. He didn’t own any slaves. All he had were the children and they were growing up. He thought of his uncle, Ed Little[iii], in Indiana. Maybe after the fighting was over he might move to Indiana. Feeling no inclination for work, he decided to go into Asheboro to see who was leaving in the bunch that was to go next week. He needed some tobacco anyway. He took his musket along in case he saw a squirrel or two on the way home.
There were lots of people in the village, all talking about the ones that were going away. The cotton growers were trying to get things in shape so their foremen could run things while they were away. Army men were on every corner trying to buy horses. They wanted the best, and some of the men were selling their riding horses and walking. Pappy sat on the courthouse steps shaking hands with the older men as they came and went. Some thanked him for service in such a good cause; others asked about conditions in the army.
As Pappy was walking along toward home, a fine looking gentleman rode up and stopped at his side. He asked pappy if he would like to ride. At first Pappy did not recognize him. “I’m your neighbor,” the gentleman smiled. Then Pappy said, “Oh, yes, Mr. Hammond. You have grown a little stout since I saw you last, and you have a new rig I see.”
“Yes, I had a good cotton crop this year,” Mr. Hammond answered. You are lucky to be out of the army, Little, just as the rest of us are going in. Tell me something about it.” As they rode along, Pappy told about some of the battles he was in and some of the hardships of the war. Mr. Hammond asked if he thought he would enlist again and Pappy said, “No.” He felt he had done his share. Mr. Hammond also inquired about his wife and children, which puzzled Pappy a little because he had never been so friendly before.
“I see you are hunting on my north forty at the back of you,” Mr. Hammond went on. “Do you bag anything?”
“Oh, a squirrel and a possum once in a while.”
“How is your tobacco patch?” Mr. Hammond asked. “You should clear more land and keep those boys of yours busy.”
“I know,” Pappy agreed as he stepped out of the rig and thanked Mr. Hammond for the lift.
Supper was ready when pappy came in. he told them all about his ride home with Mr. Hammond and that he had asked about Mother and the children. Both Mother and Ludie threw up their hands in disbelief. “You must be funning,” they cried. Pappy admitted that he was surprised too but guessed he was a nice man just a bit high toned.
Pappy and the boys spent the next couple of days tracing some bees to their hive in the woods. After three or four good stingings, which they cured with raw onion, they returned with a bucket full of honey. There had been some honey in the tree that Pappy cut down and he set a bear trap nearby, so he took up his musket now and went back to see what would happen.
The Woods on Frazier Mountain
Near the Green Little Cabin, North of Asheboro, NC
Photo taken in 2008
As he was walking along the river, he saw Mr. Hammond walking towards him. “Now where are you headed, my good man?” asked Mr. Hammond.
“Oh, I’m just going to take a look at my traps.”
“Well, sit down on this log; you’re not in a hurry and I would like to talk to you. Green Little, do you know what you need?” Pappy was scared for a minute but drew a deep breath as Mr. Hammond continued, “More land.”
“Oh.” Pappy said.
“Now, I have these one hundred and thirty acres of timber here that joins you. That is the best kind of land if it was cleared. And you have those lazy boys at home too young to go to the army and one in the army who will be home soon. They could pitch into this and clear it in no time, and look what you would have then.” Pappy was puzzled as Mr. Hammond continued. “You could make some real money. Boys need work to keep them out of trouble. I hear Lincoln has freed the slaves, war or no war. Of course, they don’t know just what it means yet, but it will get around and some will give us troubles. It’s hard to tell what will happen.
Mr. Hammond paused a bit and then continued more deliberately. “I just don’t see how I can go away at this time; everything depends on my being here. I am willing to pay any man “1,000.00 to go in my place, or these one hundred and thirty acres which would sell for that much. How would you like to go in my place, Little”[i]
Pappy was shocked. “Well, I ain’t caring a thing about going back and anyway that couldn’t be done,” he mumbled.
Mr. Hammond stared steadily at Pappy and said, “Oh, I don’t know why not. This bunch I am to go with is leaving from about six miles from here and everyone keeps his mouth shut about it. Since no one knows either you or me, they don’t care who answers the call. How about it, Little?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know,” Pappy said. “I’ll think about it though.”
They both rose from the log and as they studied each other for a moment, Mr. Hammond cautioned, “This is between you and me.”
Pappy walked home very slowly. As he came up on the porch where Ludie and Mother were sitting he was weak and shaky. He sat down and leaned back to rest his head against the wall of the house. “Are you tired?” Mother asked him. Pappy just nodded.
That night after supper, he went to bed early-something unusual for Pappy. But two hours later when Mother went into her room for her comb, he was still awake.
When the family gathered for breakfast the next day Pappy was not there. The children said, “Gee, Pappy sure went hunting early this morning.” Mother was surprised but didn’t say anything.
Pappy came home at noon and told the children to go out and play as he wanted to talk to Mother and Ludie. He told them about Mr. Hammond’s offer. They were speechless. They knew better than to try to change any plan he made at the time; he always had his own way in the end anyway. Mother and Ludie were afraid to argue with him and his ugly temper, but Mother spoke up now. “Green, you may never come back and then what good would the land be. You may not be so lucky the next time.”
“My mind is made up,” said Pappy firmly. “Tomorrow you and Ludie are to meet Mr. Hammond at the courthouse. He will put $1,000.00 in your hand to buy the land. I’ll take no part in it, so if I don’t come back it will be easier for you to do business. He will be at the courthouse ahead of you and have the papers all ready. You are to talk to no one.”
Mother protested, “Oh, I will be scared to death to have so much money in my hand. Must I go? I don’t want to do this. I can’t, I just can’t.”
On the day of March 24th, 1863, in the County of Randolph, State of North Carolina, May Little, wife of Green Little, bought one hundred and thirty acres of land.
Mr. Hammond was very abrupt and businesslike and rushed out of the office as quickly as possible. Mother and Ludie walked home from town in silence. When they came to the clearing and could see the house, they saw pappy walking up and down the porch with his hands locked behind him. The children were all scared. They seemed that something was wrong. Mother had never gone to the village before. Pappy was so cross, and Ludie was crying in her apron and had the rag tied around her head as she did whenever she had a headache. What could be the matter?
The few days before Pappy left were unhappy ones. Mother sewed carpet rags on the porch all day; Pappy and the boys cut wood; everyone was so quiet it seemed like somebody was dead.
It was about a week after Pappy left before things seemed to be running as usual. John spent many hours on the porch and playing his father’s old Jews’ harp. Caroline said it sounded mournful and wanted Mother to make him stop. There were always arguments, it seemed, when pappy was not there. The boys kept asking Mother if they should start clearing some of the new land, but she always put them off. Mother just couldn’t realize it was her land and somehow she just couldn’t get interested in it.
Nan Dean came over often now that Pappy was gone. Nan was always so slow you could make three beds and wash the dishes before she got across the clearing. She just loved to talk and didn’t mind a bit if she had to follow you around to do it. She didn’t miss a thing that happened for miles around. Pappy had always said, “She’s a good woman. She just knows too much.” They were glad to see her come because she usually brought some news about the war.
Bob and John went to the village once or twice a week to get news about the war. One afternoon, about the middle of July, Mother was taking her afternoon nap and Ludie was rocking on the porch when they heard someone shouting, “Oh, dear, we are losing the war.” The boys were running toward the house, faces red, almost out of breath, and both talking at once. They were trying to tell all that was going on at the village. They said the streets were full of people; ladies were crying; and there was a long list of names of all the dead on the courthouse wall. All they could gather was that there had been a big battle up in the North someplace and everybody got killed.
“Oh, not everybody, “ Ludie interrupted.
“Well, that is what Mr. Bulla said[ii]. We looked for Pappy’s name, but it was not there.” Mother was standing on the porch now very silent and pale.
“Of course it would not be there,” Ludie insisted. She couldn’t believe it could be this bad with General Lee at the head of the Southern Army.
The boys were so upset by what they had seen and heard in Asheboro they both started crying. Mother said gently, “Go to the river for a little swim in the cool water and you will feel better.”
Nan Dean came early the next day to confirm the bad news and told them the great loss was in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, but all was not lost as the boys thought. She was sure Lee would come out all right.
Mother was worried as to the weeks and months went by with no news from Pappy, good or bad. Almost every night she dreamed about him, always the same dream. She was sure now that she loved this man she had spent so many years with. There had been times when she had doubted it. Pappy was a good man, she was sure, but he was so cross. If the house was not just as he thought it should be or the nightlights in readiness, he went into a rage. He would bang the doors and pound the tables, and one time he had pounded her over the shoulders with the butt end of a large turkey wing that was used to sweep the heart. His tantrums were a thing to be afraid of and you never knew when to expect one. No matter what she said, she never said one single word to defend herself or try to explain. At the end of every outburst, Pappy would take down the musket and powder horn and go hunting. He was always so angry at that stage, they thought he might shoot them.
The winter went by with good and bad reports about the war. Some said there were no supplies for the soldiers; others said don’t believe it we will come out all right.
In the spring Mother was upset again. So many of the sheep were dying and she couldn’t find out what the trouble was. They were getting ready for shearing and everyday Bob came in with a higher count. He kept saying over and over, “All that nice wool gone.” Ludie got the idea she could have some of it the hard way. She got some baskets and coaxed John to come along to pick the wall off the dead sheep. Mother heated rain water lukewarm and put the best soap in a tub. As the wool was brought in they washed it and put it in the sun to dry. When it was dry, they carded it into bats about eight inches square. The bats were like little white clouds ready to use in all kinds of bedclothes. Every morning Bob and John went to the woods to bury the sheep that had died.
It had been a year since Pappy had gone away and not a word from him. Mother was worried. The children thought if he was dead it would be posted, so they went every day into the village to look at the list. They always came home with a smile; he was not listed. Another year passed with still no word from Pappy.
Then one morning in early April, the Little’s were awakened at dawn by a confusion of noises in the woods behind the house. The woods were full of horses and soldiers. After several hours of peeking out of the windows trying to figure out what was happening, Bob and John ventured out to talk to some of the men. The soldiers told them they were camping there waiting for orders. Mother was afraid to let the girls go out of the house.
On the following day there was a big uproar. Some of the soldiers were swinging and swaying and singing loudly, “Home, Sweet Home.” The war was over. Lee had surrendered. Mother could hardly believe it, but the soldiers began to leave in droves. Some left their packs and all left their horses. Bob and John rushed in shouting excitedly, “We’re rich! Look at all the horses. The soldiers said we could have them.”
“Calm yourself,” Ludie said. “What will you feed them? They are so poor and skinny; they are ready to drop dead.”
The boys were stunned by this abrupt shattering of their dreams. “Well,” Bob asked dejectedly, “There is one mule there that looks the best of the bunch. May we keep him?” Mother agreed but wondered how they would get rid of the others. Ludie decided they should go out and get some long sticks and shoo them away deep into the woods. She was sure they would all die.
In the village there was so much excitement, Bob and John were frightened as they went into town to read the names on the list. The men were all standing around in groups and talk was thick about soldiers coming and going and the gripes that they had. Everyone was saying this was ruination for the South. They discussed the different battles and wondered what could have went wrong. Many said they should have stopped it a year ago.
The children were heartened by the thought that Pappy would surely be home now, so they started for home. When they arrived, Ludie was asking Mother if she should get some of Pappy’s light clothes out and freshen them up as it was getting hot. Mother agreed it would be a fine idea and sent Ludie after the thing shirts which were kept in a box in the loft. Everyone was busy when Mother looked up and saw a soldier walking slowly across the clearing towards the house. She called the children to come quickly.
“Look, can this be Pappy?” she asked uncertainly.
“Oh, no,” John shook his head. “That’s not Pappy.”
“No, “ agreed Bob, “That’s not his walk. He never walked that slow.”
Betsey Jane ran out of the house to take a look. “Oh,” she exclaimed, “It must be David.”
As the soldier came closer they saws that they did not know him. Fear chilled Mother’s heart. As the young man came up to them, he asked Mother, “Are you Green Little’s wife?”
“Yes, I am.” Mother answered.
“Allow me to introduce myself, Mam. I am Jim Jackson. I was with your husband in the army, that is, up to the battle of Gettysburg.” Mother was so scared she was speechless.
At last Ludie broke the silence asking softly, “Where is Pappy now?”
The soldier walked deliberately towards the porch and sat down. He saw they were stunned and dreaded to tell his story, but he began. “Mrs. Little your husband was killed on July 2nd of last year in the Battle of Gettysburg. I was sure you would not know about it.” The younger girls rose and went to their room as they always did in case of any trouble.
Ludie, with tears running down her cheeks said, “Please tell us about him, sir.” Mother sat very still staring ahead of her as though she had turned to stone.
“I am just returning to my home, but I stopped her to tell you about your father,” he addressed Ludie. “He spoke so well of you. We sat together on the night of July 1st on a hill our company had been assigned to and were waiting for orders on the A.M. of the 2nd. The night was hot and we were tired and hungry. While we were waiting for food to come in on the wagon train, we talked about the setup there in Gettysburg. We didn’t like it. There seemed to be so much confusion everywhere. As we talked about the coming day, Green said to me, “Jim, I think this is my last day on earth.” I was surprised at this remark as he had always been so cheerful. So, I said, “Man, how silly you talk.” Green went on saying, “My family have seemed so near to me today; it is just like I can reach out and touch them. I feel so blue and so scared that even my breath is short. I have never felt like this before in my life.” I told him, “We are all scared before a big battle.” “Yes, I know” he said, “But this is different with me. I am sure I will never get through tomorrow. I have my ring and knife and this little bottle; I would like you to take them home to my wife if you get through. I’ll tie them up in this handkerchief.”
“Here they are,” Mr. Jackson ended as he pulled a little package out of his pocket and placed it in Mother’s hand. Mother made a movement to untie the handkerchief, but her eyes closed and she fell back in a faint. They carried her in and put her on the bed. Some cold towels and a little fanning brought her back to her senses again.
While the younger girls were caring for Mother, Ludie thanked the soldier and asked him to wait a few minutes on the porch until she could see if her mother was all right. She told the children to stay with Mother. She wanted to talk to Mr. Jackson alone. “Please tell me just what happened, “ Ludie said as she returned.
“Well,” Mr. Jackson began, “It was a terrible battle, you know. I suppose you heard all about it. We were given orders to charge. We had a good half mile to run under heavy cannon blasts. Your father was running ahead of me when a large piece of shrapnel hit him in the face and almost cut half of his head off. He fell right at my feet. I jumped over him and then bent over him a second to look at him. I saw at once that it was all over for him. No one can imagine what that battle was like and the next day it was worse. The ground was soaked with blood; I might say North Carolina blood, so many were killed from here. I was wounded myself, but I’ve recovered.”[i]
The children all gathered around Mother’s bed as she made another attempt to open the knots in the handkerchief. As it came open, the girls cried out, “Oh, Mother, your empty scent bottle that you accused us of taking. See, we didn’t tell you a story.”
“I know,” Mother said softly, “I believed you.”
“Well, you didn’t act like you did with the look you gave us when we said we hadn’t seen it,” they persisted.
Tears filled all eyes at the bedside as they took the ring and knife[ii] in their hands and gingerly passed them to one another. Mother sat fondling the bottle in her hand and she thought of their love for each other, and her heart was filled with joy for a minute. To think, he had cared enough for her to take the little musk scent bottle that she kept on her bedroom shelf.
John interrupted her thoughts, “Mother, why are you smiling at a time like this?” She did not answer, just leaned back on her pillow with the bottle in her hand and closed her eyes.
Ludie asked softly, “Mother, have you thought how much this afternoon has been like the dream you have been having since Pappy has been away?”
“I thought of it, dear child, as the soldier came across the clearing. That’s why I was so scared. I knew Pappy was dead.”
Ludie prepared a light supper. She knew no one would feel like eating. The boys went up to bed early. They didn’t know just what to do with themselves. The quietness of the upper floor seemed to give them comfort. They could cry or swear and no one would ever know. The girls sat in a row on the side of their beds whispering. Lucy Ann said, “Gee, I hope Mother don’t get married again like that Mrs. Thomas did.” Caroline hushed her, “Oh, Lucy Ann, you don’t know what you’re saying.” “Oh yes, I do,” Lucy Ann went on, “I hear that old man that she married beats the kids with a long stick.” “Well, don’t worry about that,” Caroline said. “I just hope Ludie and Mother can quit crying.”
Ludie washed the dishes and set them on the table. She felt so weak and lifeless she couldn’t walk over to the cupboard to put them away. She sat down at the table where she had sat with her father the night of his return from the army and tried to recall their conversation. All she could remember was that she had complained of her worn out clothes and being called white trash. Oh, why had she said all those things to him? She knew now that was one of the reasons he had accepted Mr. Hammond’s offer of the land. Pappy had given his life for them.
The thought seemed more than she could bear. She went to the drawer and got out the old cap Pappy always wore when he went hunting and held it to her breast. It was so much like him. She could hold her grief no longer. She started to scream, “Oh, Pappy, why did I do this to you? Why can’t I be more like my mother, weak and uncomplaining? Why am I so much like you? If I had only kept still, you would have been here with us today. Oh! How can we live without you? What good is this worthless land? I hate it!” She was walking around and around the table waving her hands as tears streamed down her face.
Mother came out of her room and gently helped Ludie to a chair. “Calm yourself, child,” she urged. “You will be sick.”
“Oh, Mother, I can’t bear it. What shall we do? If I live to be a thousand years old I will never forget this night or forgive myself,” Ludie sobbed. Mother god down the whiskey jug and mixed a good drink with a cup of hot water. This was the only medicine in the house. It was used for all sickness, for the old and very young alike. She put cold towels on Ludie’s aching head and fanned her read and swollen face. Mother put a shawl around her own shoulders and they walked out onto the porch to talk.
Mother tried to console Ludie, “Don’t blame yourself so much. Pappy always made up his own mind about everything. I’m sure he didn’t think we would lose the war, and if he didn’t come back he felt we would get along some way if we had more land.” Mother asked Ludie if the cool night air didn’t make her feel much better.
“Oh, yes,” Ludie said. “I have been thinking while sitting here how strange it is that we were not notified of Pappy’s death.”
“I have thought of that too,” Mother said. “He must have been one of those they couldn’t identify.”
“Yes,” Ludie went on, “Mr. Jackson said they buried hundreds in trenches not even three feet deep. It is so terrible not even to know where he is buried. If we had a grave to go and put flowers on, it would seem more real. Just think, Mother, he has been dead almost two years. Do you remember the day the boys came home all excited about the terrible battle and crying, “Oh, Mother, we have lost everything; everybody got killed!” How right they were. I’m glad we didn’t know about it then. We have had hope to help us through these last two years.
It was almost daylight now and Mother said she would lie down for awhile and rest. Ludie took the bucket to the spring for some fresh water. She started a fire under the kettle on the hearth and made herself some coffee. As she sat at the table alone drinking the coffee, she knew she could not go on at home as she had done in the past. Waiting for Pappy was one thing, but now new plans must be made.
[1] Green Little enlisted on June 5, 1861 into the 22nd Regiment of the North Carolina Infantry. He was discharged for medical reasons on October 15, 1862. His return home was after this discharge.
[2] In 1862 the family included Green, his wife Jemima Davidson Little “May”, Louisa “Ludie”, Caroline, Lucy Ann, Robert, John, Elizabeth Jane “Betsey”, and David who was serving in the 22nd Regiment of NC Infantry.
[3] Ed Little is a name that I don’t recognize. This may be John Little who was living in Fountain County, just north of Kingman, Indiana. David Little had gone to his Uncle’s Farm in 1865. While there he met Hannah Maris, a daughter of John & Rebecca Maris, John Little’s next door neighbors.[4] The actual battle where Green Little lost his life occurred on July 1st, 1863. His unit, the 2nd NC Battalion was attached to Daniels Brigade of Rodes’ Division. They were advancing through uncut grass that was 3-4 feet in height. The field where the advance occurred was approximately a half mile across (as described by Mr. Jackson to the family). The tall grass hid an unfinished railroad cut that Union troops (143rd Pennsylvania Regiment and others) were waiting. Additionally cannons had been placed in a camouflaged position that brought about an overwhelming enfilade fire. Records of the battle state: “The Second North Carolina Battalion, of Daniel’s brigade, lost 200 of 240 men, killed and wounded, without yielding an inch of ground at any time.” [5] The reference to Mr. Bulla is interesting. In the Little-Hammer land transaction, B. Bulla was the probate judge.
[6] The knife referenced in the story may actually be the single edge razor that has been passed down in the many generations of Little’s. According to my father’s handwritten letter of 1951, the razor was on Green Little the day he was killed at Gettysburg. Green’s eldest son David (who was also at Gettysburg that day, attached to the 22nd NC Regiment) gave it his grand-nephew Walter Little, who then gave it to my Father. After my father’s untimely death my Mother gave the razor to me a week before I was married to Connie in 1976.
This may be the “knife” referenced in the story.
It is actually a single-edge razor
But, to the young Ludie, I understand why she would refer to it as a “knife”
Green Little (circa 1863
“The Man Who Gave His Life For a Thousand Dollars”
(Copied From the Original Tin-Type Photograph, Provided by Roseann Allen 2011)
