Not more than forty miles away,
Sarah Louisa lay ill all day.
We had heard the story early last morn:
The men in Blue had come not long ago,
Took all the grain and flour they could
and threw the rest upon the snow.
John Lee walked all night.
Walked in the woods to stay out of sight.
His Sarah Louisa was sick in her lungs.
She had scraped the grain off of the snow.
Her two little boys had to eat,
And she had to live for her man, John.
Little Leonah and his brother, Bill stood by her bed,
They were listening to every word she said.
"Don't be scared, I'll be okay."
"Be very quiet and gather lots of wood,
"Your Daddy will be comin'.
"Be strong and keep warm and be good."
John was running low on powder and lead
And trouble wa camped less than a mile ahead.
He was good looking, young and strong,
Dark hair and eyes and skin.
A member of the Cherokee nation,
One of the South's courageous fighting men.
Sarah's heart was beating fast,
Just before dawn she breathed her last.
The night's walk brought him to a place he knew.
John's heart began to race,
He had walked all night And finally,
he recognized this place.
The yankee camp was just ahead,
The sentry there would soon be dead.
John knew it was not safe to walk at day.
He knew he had more miles to go.
He walked until he saw the guard,
Jumped to the ground, and layed low.
The Negro women were at the house.
They took care of the children,
Buried Sarah and expected her spouse.
The guard had seen him, It was too late.
He had a family to get to
But the world just wouldn't wait.
The sentry was young, he shot fast.
He thought to reload,
but John made that thought his last.
The alarm had been sounded,
John was surrounded.
The ball rolled down his barrel,
He used his last flint,
He killed one more,
but his ammo was spent.
He only wanted to het home,
Now his boys would be all alone.
He had to try, try to get away.
John took to his feet and began to run.
He was the fastest in the hills,
But not faster than a Yankee gun.
"Sarah, honey, Sarah, I tried,"
Were John Lee's last words before he died.
It was a while before they heard what had happened,
Word traveled slowly back then.
The boys were taken away,
They were raised by kin.
Sarah and John, like so many others,
Were trapped, innocent, in this war of brothers.
The battle of Shiloh raged on.
The sound of cannon was distant through the fields of corn.
And on this day of little hope of good,
Leonah's future bride, Amie Addieline, was born.
Who's to say whether life is really good,
But most would change it if they could.
Their descendants have been many.
It's easy to see life as good,
while your're still in its dawn.
They have been gone for many years,
But in a piece of each of us they still live on.
This poem was written by Charles Hebert in memory of his great grandfather's short life with his parents and their bout with the Civil War.