War

My family was cleaning up the house where our grandfather, George, had been living with his wife, Grace. He passed away last month, at the age of 84. After the burial, Grandma had asked us to come by in a few weeks, and help clear out some things. No one really looked forward to it, we knew it would bring up memories of him, and that we would be sad we had lost him.

The house wasn’t dirty, for we all had been taking turns coming over every few days and helping them out, for years. Cooking, cleaning, keeping medications up to date- you know, the usual things you do for older family. Grandma was going through his books in his Library -it was really a living room, but there were plenty of bookshelves, and a television that was rarely turned on. She was putting some books aside to give away, and piling others up for us to look at, if we were interested. She came to an old bible, and stopped working, and sat down to look through it. After a while, she called for the six of us to take a break, and listen to her.

“ I found Dad’s old family bible, and, tucked in the back was a few pieces of yellowed, fragile paper. The story in them is fascinating. Grab a seat, and have a listen”, she said

She started reading.

“ My Name is George Anderson. I was born in Monroe County, Virginia, 1751, but moved to Kentucky, in the spring of 1772, to avoid some trouble from my home near the Red River in Monroe County. Around 1775, the revolutionary war started. In late summer of 1775, I returned to Virginia, and enlisted in the 14th Virginia Regiment of the Continental Army, as a private. After a few weeks of training, we were off to war. My first battle was the Battle of Hampton, where my unit acquitted ourselves well. We were quickly sent on to the Battle of Great Bridge. More battles were ahead of us, for we were sent north to fight, in New York and New Jersey. By 1777, due to battlefield promotions, I was a Second Lieutenant. Part of the promotion was simply because I could read and write, which was very helpful to the regiment, but also for showing initiative, and taking over in battle situations when officers over me were wounded or killed. It was during the battle of Fort Washington in New York that I spied an old acquaintance, Cyrus Johnson. Although I recognized him, he didn’t seem to recognize me. As an officer, I wore a different uniform, and like everyone else, I had longer hair and a beard, because it was difficult to find a good barber. I asked around, and found he was in the sixth Virginia Regiment. I also found out he had been punished several times for ‘malingering’ and dereliction of duty, which means he managed to be anywhere but the front lines, where he was assigned, when fighting started. I had some thoughts on Cyrus, but I kept them to myself.

Cyrus had been part of the reason I left Red River. He and a friend of his had caused lots of trouble at home, both in the nearby town, and on our farm, where they killed some of our livestock, and tried to burn our barn. His friend, Mathew, was killed. That was the last I had seen Cyrus, until the battles.

I also started watching Cyrus, and became familiar with his whereabouts, at least as much as I could, since we were in different units. In the meantime, our regiment had a war to fight, and fight we did. During the Battle of Saratoga, I was wounded several times, luckily nothing serious, but I was removed to a field hospital, and was there for a few weeks. I was glad to leave, for it was a noisy, smelly, unhealthy place. I was able to send my family a letter, telling them my situation, and some of the other parts of war. The Hospital Commander also stopped by my bed to tell me he had sent for my family, and the reason, which was that the Post Commander was giving me a medal. Once they had arrived, the army fixed up a little ceremony for us, detailing my many wartime accomplishments, and handing me the Badge of Military Merit. It is a medal they give to all wounded men.

I soon returned to my regiment, and we were getting ready to fight the British at the Battle of Monmouth in 1778. It has been raining for days, and there is mud everywhere. We have tried cutting saplings down, and using all parts of the trees to make a somewhat dry floor in our tents, and other places a floor was needed. It works for a few days, then we have to add more. Even when it isn’t raining, we never see the sun. Nothing dries out, and it is always dark and cloudy. We haven’t seen the sun for weeks.

The battle went poorly for us at first. Our Generals decided to divide the armies up, sending groups to different places. At one point, the British outnumbered the main Continental Army, and some soldiers started to retreat. However, a strong rearguard fight allowed the army to regroup, and we were able to counter the British.

Eventually I returned home, where Henry and Josiah, two of our freemen, started pestering me about the war and killing others. Over a bottle of whiskey, I told them that in the middle of one nasty skirmish with the British at Monmouth, I saw Cyrus running from the battle. Most of the other soldiers were looking and moving forward, towards the British at the front lines, or taking cover. Bullets were flying everywhere, but my group was behind a low stone wall.

I was behind my men, and in a moment, I shot Cyrus in the back, and turned back toward the front. When his body was found later, more than one person commented on how fitting it was that he had been shot while running away.

This shooting has bothered me for many years. I am haunted by it, and I think on it almost every day. It is one thing to kill someone in war, for they will kill you if they can. Killing Cyrus was not an act of war, it was done to keep him from plaguing my family, and my county like he and Matt had done before.

Signed, George Anderson”

Mom folded the letters, put them back in the bible, and said “I actually met George, who was my Great Grandfather. I knew him for a few years. He never showed any mental stress from this incident, and was always a joy to be around. I cried when he passed, I was 8 years old then. I wonder how this story was never found and read.