Last Train to Appomatox

Patrick Henery Ruffin was a proud son of the south. His namesake called for Victory or Death. His second cousin, Edmund Ruffin was a fiery journalist from Charleston who had actually fired the first shot of the war against the Federal occupiers of Fort Sumpter. Paddy Ruffin lacked their fame, but he was equally prepared to give his life to defeat the Federal oppressors.

Paddy was a corporal in the Sixth South Carolina Infantry. It was a regiment in name only. It's sixty-two effectives amounted to little more than a strong company.They had been pulled from the front line and assigned to guarding the railways in the vicinity of Richmond from Yankee raiders. Unfortunately the war was not going well. There was little to keep the bluebelly cavalry from slipping away from the lines at Richmond to harass Confederate supply lines. Left unhindered they would swoop down on stations, burn warehouses and rolling stock, cut telegraph lines and rip up rails. At best this meant hours of backbreaking labor for men like the Sixth South Carolina. Slaves could no longer be trusted to do the work without slipping off to the Yankees in the middle of the night. Too often there were no supplies to replace what was lost.

Paddy had been on sentry duty from midnight to dawn and had slept for less than an hour when the lieutenant came through shouting for the regiment to assemble with full packs. When they had formed up Major Carter announced that General Lee had decided to abandon Richmond. They were to march south to join up with Braxton Bragg in North Carolina. They would leave as soon as rations were issued. Those rations, Paddy knew, would likely consist of a couple handfuls of dried peas and, if they were lucky, a skimpy piece of bacon that, before the war would have been thrown away as inediible. Although this was hardly enough for a single meal it would need to be husbanded carefully. They would get no more before they joined upwith General Bragg.

Paddy wrapped his ration in a handkercheif and carefully stowed it in his nearly empty haversack. As he sat sucking on the singlre pea he had kept out Major Carter came up to him. A regiment should have been commanded by a colonel, but theirs had died of camp fever a few weeks before and all they had was the major. Major Carter had gotten a piece of shrapnel in the chest at Petersburg. He should have been in a hospital, but there was no one to replace him, and so he soldiered on in constant pain.

"Corporal Ruffin, you won't be coming with us."

Paddy jumped to his feet. "Sir?"

"We've one last trainload of supplies to deliver and we need you to act as a fireman."

"But sir, I don't know anything about running a train!"

"The only experienced railwayman we have is a one armed engineer. He needs an able bodied man to assist him, and you are the best we've got." The major pulled the pistol from his holster. "We can't spare you a musket. This is all I can give you to defend yourself. Be careful, theres a hot chamber under the hammer. This was an indication of how serious the situation was. Normally the chamber under the hammer would be kept empty for the sake of safety.

Paddy accepted the pistol and gingerly tucked it into his waistband. The major held out his hand. "Good luck paddy."

Thus it was that Paddy stood on the platform and watched as his comerades marched off down the south road. When all that was left was a slowly settling cloud of dust he turned to watch a dozen surly looking slaves loading the train under the guard of four soldiers that were too sick or injured to keep up with the marching regiment. The supply train cosisted of two boxcars filled with wormy hardtack and dried peas,along with a pitifully small amount of ammunition. That is all there was to supply the once mighty Army of Northern Virginia.

At the call of the engineer Paddy went to the locomotive to receive his hasty training in the arcane art of stoking a locomotive. As best he could with only one arm the man showed him how to spread the wood evenly over the floor of the firebox to get the maximum heat from the burning fuel. "We've got to build up the pressure slowly. This poor old lady is long overdue for an overhaul. The plpes are half clogged with lime. Even at full pressure we won't be able to get anywhere near full speed. If she gets a sudden blockage we'll be lucky to keep her from exploding.

As he was slowly, methodically building up the fire Paddy heard the crackle of gunfire. He looked out of the cab to see the slaves scattering to the four winds. In the distance he could see Yankee cavalry milling around. As he watched they began to spur toward the train, trying to stop it brfore it steamed away. A rebel soldier with a bandage over one eye slammed shut the door of the second car, then turned to yell to Paddy.

"Go,go,go! We'll try to slow them down!"

Behind hlm the engineer cursed methodically as he pushed the throttle lever all the way forward. There was a burst of steam and the huge drive wheels brgan to spin. Paddy was afraid they would never catch before the cavalry got to them. Eentually they did catch for a second, then spun again. they caught, spun,caught , spun, then caught for good with another burst of steam. The train began to inch forward.

Paddy looked back just in time to see their four defenders disappear beneath a wave of horses without slowing it down in the least. The leading troopers were past the back of the train. He heard what sounded like an angry bee buzzing past his ear. He realized he was being shot at and hastily backed into the cab.

As he did the leading horseman moved up beside him. As he snatched at the gun under his belt the man leapt from his horse and grabbed at the hand rails of the cab. Paddy shoved the pistol into the man's face and pulled the trigger. There was a roar and the man's face opened up like a horrid red flower, and then he was gone. Paddy looked out and saw two more horsemen who might yet board the train. He methodically fired his five remaining shots, then threw the now useless pistol at them. He didn't seem to hit anything but he did cause the yankees to draw up and miss their chance to catch the train.

"Thank God!" The engineer said behind him. "I wasn't sure we could build up speed fast enough to outrun them. Now you had better get back to stoking or they'll catch us yet!"

With a well maintained locomotive the run to Appamatox junction should have taken just over an hour. As it was forty-five minutes saw them just short of the halfwaqy point. Paddy was concentrating on spreading the wood for the most even fire when he heard the characteristic crack of a twelve pounder Napoleon cannon.

"Artillery, they're shooting at us!" He leapt to the cab entrance. He saw a rapidly dispersing smoke cloud atop a hill about a quarter mile away. As he watched smoke billowed out as another cannon fired. He involuntarily ducked, then craned to see where the shot hit. To his surprise he could see no sign of it.

"No, they're not shooting at us, they're shooting at the bridge!" The engineer was looking out the other side. "Stoke! If they weaken it enough it will collapse under us." He shoved the throttle wide open. Slowly, punctuated by the boom of cannons the train picked up speed. Slowly, punctuated by the boom of cannons the needle on the pressure guage crept around the dial. There was no time for careful stoking. Paddy grabbed chunks of wood and shoved them into the firebox as fast as he could. His muscles burned from the effort. Sweat soaked his body and stung his eyes. There was no time to check the effects ofthe barrage on the bridge.

At last the engineer stepped in front of him an pushed him away from the firebox. "Enough, We're across." Lungs heaving, he pushed the throttle closed. Lungs heaving, Paddy looked at the pressure guage, which was far above the danger mark. Paddy looked back along the ralls just in time to see the bridge slowly, almost majestically collapse.

The engineer tapped the pressure guage. "The emergency let off valve stuck. If it hadn't we would have crashed. On the other hand we're lucky the boiler didn't blow."

Both men jumped at the sound of an explosion. "Goddam! Now they're shooting at us.!" The engineer shoved the throttle open again.

Paddy reachd out and closed it again. "We're almost out of range. We should be all right just coasting awhile."

After five minutes or so the pressure had dropped to safe levels and both men got back to the business of safe travel. It was nearly noon as they approached Appamattox Junction. Paddy reached for the cieling, trying to stretch out his back. "Well, almost time to go back to being a soldier. What will you do?"

The engineer shrugged. "I dunno. Even were I so inclined there ain't no call for a one armed engineer under the blue bellies. I reckon I'll march on with you and Massa Robert."

He busied himself with slowing the train, alternately working the brake and the throttle. With consummate skill he pulled the train up exactly to the station platform. As Paddy jumped from the cab to the platform an officer came out of the station office followed by a file of soldiers. They wore blue uniforms.