Fort Delaware
7 February, 1865
It was another one of those nights when Jim couldn’t sleep, one of those nights he wanted to talk. Jim was from a little town in Georgia, one Andy had never heard of. But that was of no importance, they’d discovered early on that Jim had never heard of Lineville, Alabama, either.
Jim talked about ancestry and homes and everything else he could think of, on and on and on. When he was quiet for a while, Andy began to think he was asleep. But then came Jim’s whisper in the dark.
"Jackson, what do you think God will say to me when I die and see Him?"
Andy knew Jim was feverish. The nightmares had been particularly bad for him lately, his screams waking those around him. Andy didn’t think the boy would last much longer, Jim was too sick, and maybe too tired, to fight the battle of life anymore. But Andy didn’t want Jim to succumb, knew he had to give the boy a reason to keep trying.
Since conversation was all they had left at that time of the night, Andy said, "What do you think He will say, Jim?"
Jim whispered, "I think he will look at me and say 'Well, James, you know you done some pretty horrible stuff, and I hate to do it to you, but I can't let you join us.' I don't think God will let me into Heaven, Jack." Jim's voice trailed off into the dark.
"Jim," Andy asked, "are you sure you are not trying to justify some unbelief?"
There was silence for a few minutes, then Jim seemed to rouse a little. "No, Jack, I believe in God. I don’t think He believes in me, and after the things I done, I can’t say I blame Him."
"Jim, we have God's promise that no matter what we do, He will always forgive if we ask sincerely. How can you doubt that God can and will do anything He said?"
Jim lay there, not moving. Andy continued, "I’ll tell you what I think, since you asked my opinion. I think God is a loving Father who wants only the best for all His children."
"Then why does God cause war and the other terrible things we have been through?" Jim asked.
"God doesn’t cause war. He doesn’t make bad things happen. He allows them to happen. Like with Job."
Jim was silent and Andy continued. "We have to go through some bad times in life and come through to the other side to become what we are supposed to be."
Andy tried to see through the dark to the man's form next to him, wondering if Jim was listening or if he slept.
Hearing him move slightly on his cot, but not knowing if he was talking to himself or if Jim was still awake and listening, Andy continued. "Have you talked to God about everything? Is there something you think God doesn’t know about you, something you don’t want to admit?"
Jim was silent for a long time, but then he made a sobbing sound and said, "Jack, there is one thing I have never asked forgiveness for. The saddest thing in my life is not my sawed-off arm or this blind eye or even being here in prison. It happened a couple of years ago. We’d been fighting for days, skirmishing like normal, sort of playing with the Yankees, you know how we done. But all of a sudden, from out of the nowhere, there was a rain of bullets toward anybody not wearing blue. We hightailed it."
"One young boy, wearing an academy uniform, really too young to be there but there all the same, was hit as we ran up the creek bank. I thought he was all right, he kept on running for a while, his hand holding his side, but then he fell down."
"I ducked down behind some rocks. I saw him manage to pull himself up against a tree with one hand, clutching his gut with the other. The shells were still coming at us, and all I could do was yell over to him and ask if he was all right. He answered back that he was hit bad."
"I figured there must have been more than one shooter by then. The minnies were like hailstones all around us. I heard the lad begin to cry, calling for us boys to please come back. I lay like I was already dead, my face in the dirt, hoping the dark would hide me. I tried not to move, wishing the earth would open up and swallow me. I heard him call again, begging somebody to save him. "
"I must have laid there for hours. At least it seemed like hours. I lost track of time. But as soon as things would get quiet and I began to think it was safe for me to run, the boy would cry out again, and here would come another storm of balls."
"All night long he begged for somebody, anybody, to help him. I was too afraid to move. Finally he stopped calling, but I could hear him weeping. He knew he was done for, knew he’d die there alone, with no one to hold his hand and close his eyes for him."
"Long about dawn I heard him say, 'Dear God, forgive my trespasses, and please take your servant Joe King into your bosom.' He called for his mama and then was finally, awfully still."
By now Jim was sounding feverish again, but he continued. "After a while I crawled away into the trees, feeling like the snake I resembled for leaving the boy, but I couldn’t face the danger of helping him. When I got back to our lines I told Lt. Rollins what happened. He said it warn't my fault. But it's bothered me ever since, and I think what happened that day was why God had me captured. I cared more for myself than I did for that youngun' Joe. That’s why I don’t think God will let me into Heaven. I can’t be blessed because I didn’t help the least of His children."
After that, the silence was broken only by Jim's sobs.
"Jim," Andy asked gently, "do you trust God to do what He said? He said we are His children and He loves us and there is nothing He will not do for us, nothing He will not forgive us if we ask sincerely. He even sent down His son to die for us. How much more could He love us, what greater proof could there be than giving up His only son? Think about that Jim, think about how much God loves you, not only the you that prays and loves, but the you that had to kill because times demanded it, the you that left that boy because there was nothing else you could do. You and I did not seek this war. We did not go gladly into battle. We did not come willingly into this prison. But here we are, all the same. I’ll tell you what I think. I think God will welcome you with open arms when you get to Heaven."
From what seemed a long way off, Andy heard Jim say, "Thank you, Jack, I hope you are right."
Quietly Andy said "Get some sleep now, my friend, you need your rest."
Next day, at sundown, Andy wrote in his journal.
This morning, I carried Jim outside at bugle call, and laid him down in his place. When the duty sergeant roll-called Jim's name, I answered, "His body is here, but his soul went on home.” This afternoon I led the detail to help bury the man who had become my best friend. God preserve us all.
