The Farmer

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Edelbert Hoerner sat uncomfortably upon his old mule. He was more used to walking behind her with his plow or sitting behind her as she pulled his wagon. She was getting on in years but she still worked sunup to sundown without much complaint. Which is more than he could say for his Frau.

"Kommt schon¹, Bessie. We need to be back by nightfall or my missus will tan both our hides."

When the armies had come, he had taken his wife, their two children, and the wagon with enough to tide them over for a few days down to his in-law's farm near Horner's Mill. His mother-in-law wasn't the most generous person on the planet and had he shown up empty-handed, he would have heard it about it. Then and for weeks to come.

The closer they got to home, riding up the Taneytown Road, the more unsettled he felt. Whether the mule sensed the farmer's emotions or whether she sensed things on her own was a toss up.

"Ho, Bessie, hold up."

Lying in the road, a few rods ahead, were bloated corpses, men and horses. No doubt Bessie had smelt them well before he had seen them. He could smell them now.

He also smelled burnt things, buildings and crops maybe.

He dug his heels in, he needed to see what had become of his farm.

"That's deep enough, fellows. We need to be moving."

"Hell Sarge, first hard rain'll wash these fellas right up outta the ground."

"Not our problem Rufus. Grab your gear and let's move out."

Sergeant Adams looked around the small barnyard. No doubt a pretty little place in peacetime, it was a scene of horror now.

The house and the outbuildings were riddled with holes. The small shed near the barn had burned to the ground and still smoldered. From the smell, he had to assume that something, or someone, had burned in there with the shed.

They had buried as many bodies as they could find in the short time allotted to them. General Meade wanted to be on the move and soon. They'd licked Bobby Lee but he'd gotten what was left of the Army of Northern Virginia back up the Cashtown Pike. They'd lost a lot of men here over the past few days, but that army remained a dangerous foe.

Adams, like many of the men, was glad of the rest after three hard days of battle. Thing is though, if Lee kept getting away like this, the war would never end.

"You Gaumont?"

Gaumont looked up, it was a colonel, one he didn't recognize. He stood up as he spoke, "Yessir, Sergeant Louis Gaumont at your service."

"Your outfit have any officers left?"

"Sir, my regiment is down to seventy three men. The rest are back thataway." Gaumont nodded towards the Gettysburg battlefield. "Ain't none of them above ground. Best I can do is myself and Corporal Pelletier, he's over yonder, having a nap."

"I'm Colonel Snead, Sergeant, late of General Ewell's staff. The general has instructed me to take command of your brigade, well, what's left of 'em anyway."

"Heck fire Sir, I doubt the whole brigade numbers over a few hundred."

"Still and all, we need to get the boys up and on their feet. The Potomac, and safety, is still a long ways off. So get your men together, I'll be up the road a piece, getting the other units moving."

Gaumont saluted, then said, "Sir, we was whipped, wasn't we?"

"Yes Sergeant, the bluebellies stopped us cold, but we ain't quite whipped yet. We get back to Virginia and get resupplied, we'll whup the Yanks when they come on again. Them bluebellies can stand and fight, I'll give 'em that, but can they attack?"

Gaumont had no words to answer that, he could still picture those bluebellies pouring down off the ridge, fire in their eyes and murder in their hearts. Oh hell yes, those boys could attack as well as anyone.

Hoerner looked at the wreckage of his farm. It would be a lot of work fixing things up. He'd ridden around his fields, his corn was ruined, his apple orchard was nearly destroyed, and most of the land was littered with the detritus of war.

He'd found a placard on his well, "Dead man was inside, don't drink here."

So there was that to deal with, guess he'd have to dig another well. The missus would never drink from the existing well again, he knew that. He had doubts about that himself.

He tied Bessie up to one of the trees still standing near the barnyard. She didn't care for the smell, he didn't either, the smell of shit, piss, and blood was everywhere.

He walked towards what was left of his barn, nearly tripping over something as he did so.

He looked down, it was a hand, a man's hand protruding from the soil.

"Damn it, typical government job, they can't even bury the dead properly."

And there, just outside the barn door, was a leg. Nobody attached to it, just a leg.

Edelbert Hoerner wasn't a naïve man, he'd seen things as a young boy back in Thuringia during the revolutions of 1848. He was no stranger to violence, but this, this severed leg outside his barn. It was just too much.

Hoerner wept unashamedly as he buried the leg. He wondered what the boy who had been born with that leg was like. Had he worn blue, or gray, and in the big scheme of things, did it really matter?

As he tamped down the last of the earth, he said a silent prayer, in hopes that the fellow whose leg he'd just buried was still alive.

He didn't understand war, he just wanted to raise his crops, and his children, in peace. But no, there were always men who wanted more, who wanted things that didn't, or shouldn't, belong to them.

He walked back to his mule, untied her, and remounted. As he did so, it started to rain, hard.

As the rain fell harder, he drew his collar tight and muttered, "Es gibt kein schlechtes Wetter, nur schlechte Kleidung.² Kommt schon, Bessie. We're going to get wet, no need to dawdle."

For the armies, the battle of Gettysburg was over. For the civilians in the region, the remnants of that struggle would occupy them for many long weeks. Restoring their homes, burying the dead, evacuating the many wounded from both sides.

War, is indeed Hell.

¹ Come on. (German) Can be used to mean "move faster" or "let's go."

² There is no such thing as bad weather, only the wrong clothing." (German)