Chapter 1

Until April 9, 1865, I was Captain Howard Christian Randolph, Army of Northern Virginia. With General Lee's surrender, I became just Howard Christian Randolph.

On the evening of July 2, 1863, I had moved a company of CSA infantry across Spangler's Spring toward Cemetery Ridge. It was hot and dark in Gettysburg. The tree branches and brush struck me as I moved up the ridge. We rarely fought at night and communication was difficult. As we climbed the ridge, the Yankees opened up from behind fortified positions. We moved up the ridge, but their fields of fire hit us from two sides and cut us down. An artillery shell landed near me and I was knocked out. When I came to, a Union Officer, Captain John Nabler, of a Pennsylvania regiment stood over me.

I had spent two years at the VMI before accepting a commission with the former VMI professor, General J. A. Jackson. My father, a very religious man, accepted General Jackson as a fit commander and allowed me to accept a commission under his command. We had no camp followers in our camp. The General was a very religious man.

I fought in several engagements and was on the General's staff when he was killed. At VMI, I had joined the social fraternity, Phi Gamma Delta, and like many of my fraternity brothers, I wore the black diamond and white star in battle. When captured near Spangler's Spring, the commanding officer of the company that captured me recognized my fraternity badge and offered to keep a fraternity brother at his farm, if I would give my parole.

I had seen enough of battle anyway and gave my parole. I went by train to Lancaster, Pennsylvania. A stocky man with a thick German accent met me at the train. "Captain Randolph, I'm Fritz Nabler."

"Howard Randolph, sir."

Fritz drove a single horse buggy. I climbed in and he took me to a farm outside of town. "Have you worked on a dairy farm?"

"No sir. My father raised beef cattle and crops for feed." I assisted the understaffed Nabler family as a farm laborer, which was much the same as I had done on my father's farm outside of Waynesboro, Virginia. From the Gettysburg battle until Lee's surrender, I was a dairyman near Lancaster, Pennsylvania. My fraternity brother's family, devout German Lutherans, treated me well. I had a room in a clean barn and was provided everything but sex. I read, learned German, tended the herd, cleaned the barn, harvested and stored winter feed for the stock. The hours were long and I worked hard, but I wasn't in a dreadful Union prison and I had sufficient food to eat. The family allowed me space for a small garden where I grew vegetables. I stayed to myself and honored my parole. I was up early and to bed early.

In late April, the Nabler family received word of the Lee's surrender at Appomattox, and though it was a busy time on the farm, they took me to the train that returned me to Gettysburg, the site of my capture.

During my parole, I did not wear the CSA uniform. The Nablers provided me with shoes, a canteen, and dried food. I intended to walk to Frederick and cross the Potomac at the Point of Rocks. If things were bad, I planned to walk up the Shenandoah River most of the way. It would take most of the summer but I would have water and might be able to catch fish.

If I got a horse, I planned to go to Leesburg and then either to Charlottesville or Fort Royal, and then to Waynesboro. Either way I could make it by living off the land, though on foot the river route would be the longer but the safer. Stealing a horse would be risky and I had no money to buy one. I wanted to get home as quickly as I could to help my father and help protect my family.

From Charlottesville, I planned to cross the Blue Ridge at Afton Mountain and go five miles along the Blue Ridge Mountains to Sherando and Tory Furnace. My father's land was encompassed the canyon beyond Tory Furnace. My brothers had farmed the high meadows near Reed's Gap above the family property. Sherando Lake was on our property. I knew that my brothers had died in the war. They left widows, but no children. I was the sole surviving son and had two younger sisters.

The terms of the Lee's surrender allowed me to return to my home. I did not have money or a horse, or much of a way to get home. The weather was cool as I walked. Along the road there was more traffic north than south. The mountains were to my immediate west. Just over the border into Maryland the road became steeper as I got into the Catoctin Mountains. The trees were blossoming, but there was nothing growing in the fields. It was the wrong time of year to get anything from the orchards of the area.

In the Catoctin Mountains near Saint Anthony, Maryland, less than ten miles from where I had started my journey, I was beaten and robbed by a band of negroes in Union uniforms. My knapsack of food, jacket, and shoes were taken. If the robbers had not been drunk, I would have been killed. They left me for dead beside the trail.

Elizabeth Portmess and her daughter, Rachael, were being driven back from church in a buggy. Mrs. Portmess spotted me beside the road and stopped. Elizabeth said, "We must help."

Rachael said, "Mom, it's too dangerous. You don't know anything about him."

Rachael and her mother lifted me into the buggy and took me home. They put me in their barn. The barn was small and no stock was in it. Soldiers had taken all their stock much earlier in the war. I came out of the unconsciousness on the third day. Rachael sat with me. "Where am I?" I was on a blanket in a small stall.

"In a barn on a farm outside St. Anthony, Maryland. Just south of Gettysburg."

"How long have I been out?"

"Three days. The doctor wrapped your ribs. He said it would be three or four weeks before you could do much."

I had bandages on my head and my ribs had a cloth rap. I was naked under a sheet.

Rachel was fourteen. She was thin and intelligent looking. "Would you like some soup?"

I had a great deal of pain from cracked ribs. Rachael said, "We had to take your clothes off to clean you."

"I hope your husband didn't mind."

She smiled. "No husband or boyfriend. My father was killed during the first year of the War. He was a West Point graduate and chose to stay in the Union Army."

"I'm sorry to hear you lost your father. I went to VMI. I was injured and captured at Gettysburg. The last two years I helped a diary farmer and his family near Lancaster, Pennsylvania. I'm trying to get home to Virginia. And thank you for taking me in. You saved my life."

Rachael said, "It was my mom's idea. I was afraid to stop... Are you married?"

"No wife or girlfriend. None. My father is very strict and religious. I went to a military school and then I served under General Jackson, who was more strict and religious than my father. I gave my parole and never left the dairy farm after Gettysburg. They were very nice, but I had to stay away from everyone. And they were very religious."

Rachael asked, "Never had a girlfriend?"

"Yes, Rachael, I'm a virgin."

"You are too. I knew it. You can be my boyfriend until you leave. I mean you can barely move, I don't think you're much of a danger."

"Thanks a lot."

She just blurted out, "What makes a man like a woman?"

"I have no idea. I think it's mating instinct."

"That's what mom says. I heard sex is all men want."

"Not all. I mean my brothers were crazy about their wives. It was more than just sex. They liked to be around them. Both my brothers were killed in the war."

"I'm sorry. Did they have children?"

"No."

"Mom said that so many men were killed that women her age don't have much chance of ever remarrying. There aren't enough men."

"That's sad. I'm sorry for her."

"Were you afraid you were going to die a virgin?"

I nodded. "Still am. I know it's silly."

"Thank you for not making fun of me. I wanted to ask a guy questions."

"What are boyfriends for?"

She smiled. "I'll let you rest. I have chores to do."

"Rachael, be careful. Some bad things happen after a war."

She nodded.

"Do you have some guns?"

"My mother hates guns."

"Your dad must have had something."

"There is his officer's pistol."

"Get it. I'll clean it and load it. You may need it."

"I don't know."

"Look what they did to me. Imagine what they would do to you and your mom."

Rachael got the pistol, a Colt Army Model. I cleaned it and loaded it. If I didn't move my back, I didn't have much pain in my ribs.

Everyday we talked. A few days after she gave me the pistol, I heard her as she screamed in the yard. I saw a group of negroes in soldier uniforms as they attacked her.

I cocked the pistol and moved near the barn door. Three men rushed into her house. I shot the man in the yard that was on her. He slumped on top of her. The one that held her crawled toward their rifles. I shot him as soon as he was clear of Rachael. Two men ran from the house toward the stacked rifles. The big Colt knocked the men down. I shut out the pain and ran to the house. A man, I presumed to be the leader, was astride Elizabeth in the bedroom. He hit her as he moved in and out of her.

"White whore. Do you like this big nigger cock?"

I shot the man him twice and the empty cylinders clicked as I tried to shoot him more. The pistol held six shots. I moved and got a pistol from the man's pants. I heard someone at the backdoor. I moved to the bedroom doorway and shot the man as he came through the backdoor.

I went to Rachael and pulled the man off her. She was hysterical. The man appeared to have penetrated her before I shot him. She grabbed me. "Where's mother?"

"She's in the bedroom. She's alive, but she is hurt. The man beat her as he raped her."

Rachael ran to her mother. Rachael's sex leaked white fluid streaked with red onto her thigh. When she saw her mother was alive but unconscious, she said, "Please, finish. I want you to be my first."

"What?"

"Please finish me."

I took into the bedroom.

"Please."

"Are you sure?"

I pushed against her. "Go slow. It's my first time." She got wet enough for us to move together. I didn't last long in her.

She said, "I'm glad my first time was with you. He was just in me when you got him."

Afterwards I kissed her. "We need to see about your mother."

Elizabeth was still unconscious. Her face was red and puffy. Her breasts were red and swollen too. Her sex was matted with cum.

I wet a cloth with water from the pitcher and washed the dirt from her wounds. I washed her sex and then I covered her body with a sheet. I couldn't wake her.

"Rachael, do you have relatives nearby?"

"My grandparents live in Mechanicsburg."

Mr. Nabler suggested I go to a church if I had problems or needed something. "What church do you go to?"

"The Lutheran in town." I walked two miles to the church as fast as I could go with my ribs. The Lutheran minister came to the door. I told him what had happened. He got the doctor and we rode to the farm in the doctor's buggy.

The doctor said, "Some appointed federal officials use the freed blacks as a constabulary to protect the carpetbaggers' interests. The army leaves them alone. It's a bad situation."

When they had gone, Rachael asked, "Would you move into the house until mother is well enough to go to Mechanicsburg? The pastor said he would find someone to take us to Mechanicsburg as soon as she is ready to go."

Rachael was thin and her breasts were barely developed, but I fit well in her. She got on top and moved so she wouldn't hurt my ribs. We tried different positions. Standing behind her, with her on the edge of the bed, was the most comfortable position and we had sex that way often. She and I made love every chance we got.

Rachael said, "You should take my father's things. I don't think you will make it all the way home unless you do."

"I can't take his uniform. I could be shot and nobody would believe a major would be without a horse."

"Like you are any safer without them? You would have a better chance."

I tried on the uniforms, but he was much shorter than I.

A little over a week later, three deserters surprised Rachael when she went to get water one morning. They were so intent on raping her; I was able to get the drop on them. I shot them all before they hurt her. While I hugged her, one man, who was only wounded, fired and barely missed Rachael. When I joined General Jackson, my first 'command' was a scout platoon. An experienced sergeant taught me stealth operations and quiet killing. We often had to kill sentries. He stressed cutting the throats of the wounded so there were no presumed dead, only dead. It became an automatic reaction. During my parole, I had lost the edge and because of that, Rachael had almost died. I was furious with them and with me. I needed the sergeant's training for what I had to do to get home. The deserters had three horses, one with a USA brand and two with CSA brands.

Rachael said, "We have to go. They are getting too frequent." She went to her mother, "Mom, we have to go. There are too many men coming by."

Rachael got her father's equipment. I was surprised to see a 10.25' carbon steel Bowie knife with a solid brass 'D' hand guard. It was just like the one I had used in the scout platoon. I loaded four large campaign boxes across the two CSA packhorses. Under the bed, he also had a Henry Repeating Rifle and extra ammunition. In a campaign box he had camping gear and field gear.

I emasculated and castrated the men, who attacked Rachael. I hanged their white asses on the porch. I took a horse into town and told the preacher that Rachael wanted to go and that she had been attacked again. I hurried back though the pain in my ribs almost took my breath. We made love before the preacher came to take them to her grandparents.