As the crowd broke up, James noticed
Christina Miller standing near her sister, Margaret. They had come to watch James compete for the sharpshooting contest.
James, Jesse, and the Miller sisters were already good friends. They had been going to the same church,
school, and lived in the same community.
The Millers’ farm was next door to Allen and Nancy’s farm.
“James, that was some really nice shooting,” Christina said with
a smile.
“Thank you, Christina. I was scared but Old Faithful didn’t let me down. Isn’t she a beauty?” James asked as he lifted the gun.
“I don’t care much about guns, James,” Christina said as
she backed away.
“This gun won’t hurt you, Christina. It’s not even loaded,” James said as he chuckled.
“Are you going to the square dance
tonight?” James asked.
“Are you asking to escort me?” Christina asked.
“Well, I guess you might say that.”
“I would be most honored to go to the dance with the best
sharpshooter in Moniteau
County,”
Christina said smiling as she grabbed James’s arm.
On October 12, 1861, Henry, James, Jesse, Thomas Tull, Hiram Miller, and James Brooks enlisted together in
the Union Army at California, Missouri.
Allen and Nancy were sending three sons and
one son-in-law off to a bloody and brutal war which would last longer than
anyone had expected.
“Christina Miller, promise me you will wait for me, and
marry me when I return from the war,”
James said as he wrapped both arms around her and pulled her close to
him.
“James Barger, I will marry you and I’ll pray
every day that God will bring you home safely to me,” Christina said as she looked up at him
with her beautiful blue eyes while tears ran down her cheeks.
“How much further can it be to Iuka? It seems like we have marched fifty miles
today!” James said.
With
a yell, the Missouri 26th
surged forward. James trotted in the
densely packed ranks, with the inferno ahead getting closer at every step. He stumbled, then
realized that he had almost tripped over a body. A bee buzzed past his head. Then, another and another hummed past. James pondered where the bees could be coming
from then, with a start, realized that the bees were actually bullets. The ground fluttered with little bits of
paper, bitten off from cartridges with the teeth of countless soldiers who had
already fought across this ground. The
roar was like a train, but a thousand times louder, and it grew more intense
with every step forward.
Suddenly,
ahead of him, figures loomed through the smoke.
He halted, lowered his musket, and fired. The shock of scores of muskets firing at once
racked him. So, this was what a volley
was like. Over the echoing ear-throbs of
the volley, he heard an officer shouting “Damn it! Those are friendly troops. Hold your fire! Reload!
Forward!”
A
soldier near James grabbed his leg and dropped to the ground, rolling in
agony. A second
staggered back, clutching a bloody hand.