Kari's Clan - 6

“Do you have a picture of him?” asked Berte.

“Only this group picture of his unit (see above) and I’m not even sure which of them is he. I hardly ever see him now. But I can tell you an interesting story about how he met his wife.”

“Did he meet her in Colorado?”

“No, she’s a Norwegian girl, called Ingrid Bergum. She emigrated in 1865 - just after the war. But he actually met her when she was a child - years before. Remember I said that his father, Thrond, was the oldest, so he was in charge of our Gaard - or large farm, as it would be called here. But in 1852, he had to sell it, and move to his wife’s family’s farm. But he had a large family, and they needed to find their own livelihoods. So Ole, the eldest, who was only still a boy, became a door-to-door salesman of various household and family items. Once he came to a house where there was a new born child, and as the custom was, he gave a present to the new baby - a head scarf. That child later became his wife.”

“She must be a lot younger than he is.”

“Yes, but they do very well together. They had nine children, but none of them lives around here, so I haven’t met them. His youngest son, Carl, died a few years ago, in 1902. He was only 8.”

“Is Ole still alive then?”

“Yes, although he’s almost as old as I am, so I don’t expect he has much time left, like me.”

“Don’t talk like that. You’re doing ever so much better. Look how you managed to get out of bed, and your speech is clearer. I think you’re making a good recovery.”

“Well, I have you to thank for that, Berte. You and this trunk of letters and pictures, my Knud sent back to me. Somehow, I feel like there is a reason now to get up in the morning. Let’s read another letter from Ole before you go.”

 

May 10, 1862

Dear Aunt Kari,

Thank you for your letters. I do appreciate getting them. You’re about the only one who writes to me, except my Ma, and that’s only once in a great while. Here’s some more about how we’re getting on.

After our expedition to Union City, we remained quiet for a time. Except for regular guard duties, we do not have anything to do. When on guard, we are called out at 7:00 o’clock in the morning and are
relieved at the same time the following morning. Three men are stationed at each post and we mount guard two hours and then are free four hours. In the meantime, our gunboats have been bombarding for three weeks, but there are no indications that the enemy will surrender.

Something had to be done. So our men placed a barge or flatboat by the side of a gunboat and piled up a wall of cotton bales to guard its exposed side. Then we waited for an opportune time, such as a stormy night, so that we could launch a surprise attack. On the evening of April
7th, a terrible storm broke loose, with thunder and rain. Then Lucius Fairchild took four men in a small boat (I wasn’t with them) and let it float down with the current until they reached the enemy.
Hegot up to the fortifications and spiked six of the largest cannon so they could not be fired. All of our men came back unharmed. Now they let the protected gunboat drift down the river. A hole was shot through its funnel when the enemy detected that the boat was alongside their fortifications. They were unable, however, to inflict any serious damage. Pandemonium broke loose, the like of which we had never heard. This continued until the break of day; then we spied the white flag signaling that the enemy had surrendered.

We captured 500 men who had not managed to escape across the river. One unit was left at the enemy base to guard the prisoners until we could send them to the North. Our regiment was then ordered across the Mississippi to take care of things there, but some of us marched upcountry and took captive a number of stragglers.

Our booty from this encounter was ninety large cannon and ten small ones in addition to a large storehouse with provisions, a drug store, and a clothing store. The clothes were, of course, not the kind that we wore, but they came in handy for the Negroes. The rebels also left a great deal of ammunition behind them. This happened on April 8th.

We repaired the entrenchments which the rebels had left, and cleaned up both there and in our camp. Our only task now is to take our turns as guards, a duty which does not occur very frequently. To pass the time away, Jens Andersen, N. K. Landrew, and I took a trip out into the country. We called on many farmers, who had stately houses and seemed to be prosperous, but they were afraid of us. At first they would not even speak to us, but after a while we got their tongues loosened. We
found that there were a couple of brothers in the community who lived only two and a half miles from our camp. They were named Prinze and were of German descent. We got some buttermilk to drink and wanted to pay them, but when they saw our money they shook their heads and said "No good." Silver or gold was what they wanted. We had nothing but paper money — 5-, 10-, 25-, and 50-cent bills called "shinplasters." We thanked them for their kindness and went back to our lines.

On April 17th, which happened to be Maundy Thursday, we were ordered to move our camp. When this work was practically completed, we had nothing to do but take our turns at guard duty every third day.

On Easter Sunday forenoon, we had a religious service and, in the afternoon, a dress parade.

Hoping you are well. I thank you for your letters to me, Aunt Kari, and hope you will write some more.

Your nephew,

Ole Chester

“What did he do when he left the army and moved to Wisconsin? There isn’t gold to prospect here, is there?”

“No he became a farmer, like most of us. But he settled in Independence, but of course it was still called Burnside in those days. But he was a very smart farmer, and made lots of money very quickly. It was he who sent the money for his parents to come to live here in 1866. He probably saved a lot of his army pay too, having no dependants at that time.”

“How soon did he get married?”

“Not till 1872 - so he had been running his farm for six years or so by then. And there were lots of his family in the area at that time. His parents came here, though, and when Ole came to visit them, we saw him then. But Thrond only lived for 11 years here. Did you know that the area they lived in, one mile north of Daleyville, was called Kjorstad Dal? So you see our family name did come into some use in this country.”

“What about his brothers and sisters. Did they move here or to Independence?”

“Well, you know Merit Folkedahl. Well, she's his sister. That was mainly why Thrond moved here, to be near her. His brother Erik settled here too, and that's where their mother Inger moved after Thrond died in 1877. His sister Inge came here with her parents in 1866 and after she got married to Ole Tone, they moved to Independence, as did their brother Ulrik.

“Inge had a hard life. She lost four of her six children to diptheria. She’s a large person with very black hair. (So many of our family have red hair.) She’s a lovely lady, and really enjoys life. And it
was her son, Throe, who went to Perry and helped his grandparents during Thrond’s last days.”

“Do you have a picture of her?”

“I might do somewhere, but I'm tired now. I think we have done enough for today, as I need a rest. But you will come again, won’t you?”

“Yes, of course. I am enjoying hearing all about your family.”

“Thank you, Berte. I’m sorry I was so mean to you when you first came.”

“Oh, that’s all right. I must admit I was very frightened to come, but you aren’t so scary now.”

They both laughed, and Berte made her way back down the stairs, having first packed the precious letters back into their box, and then back in the trunk.

 

Wednesday, February 10, 1906

Knud was pleased with how happy his mother seemed, now that she had the interest of reading the old letters and seeing the pictures again. So he encouraged his wife to visit as often as she could. “The girls can cope with the tasks when you are gone,” he said. “And it isn’t as if you are gone more than a few hours at a time.”

So with a light heart, Berte made her way back to visit her mother-in-law who had become her friend.

When Anna Marie opened the door to her she said, “What a change you’ve made in Mother Kari. She’s almost back to being her old self. She’s taking exercise on her own in her room, and trying to get her leg strong again. She was even talking about going to church soon.”

“I’m pleased to hear it. But it wouldn’t do for her to go to church before she’s properly better,” volunteered Berte. “It’s quite a distance to the church, and even with taking a buggy, you have to
walk from the house to the buggy, and from there to the church.”

“Yes, of course, we know that, but have you ever seen a woman more stubborn when she wants to be?”

That made both women laugh, for no one could deny Kari’s strong personality.

When Berte knocked on Kari’s door, she was pleased to see that again she was up, and had opened the trunk and was waiting for Berte’s help to start exploring the contents once more.

“Shall we go to Ole’s letters where we left off?” Berte asked.

“I think as there are so many of them, maybe we should skip a bit. Find one from the next year, perhaps.”

So Berte sorted went through the letters until she found one from 1863.

January 30, 1863

Dear family,

Happy New Year to you all.

Now a new year set in for us, and our sincere wish is that by next New Year’s we will be at home, safe and sound. On the first day of the new year, we heard that Vicksburg had fallen, but this rumor proved to be erroneous. There had been a battle, to be sure, but neither side had won a victory. A boat came up the river with Union troops captured earlier. These men had been released on their word of honor that they would not bear arms against the Confederacy during the remainder of the war.

On the evening of January 5th, the 28th Wisconsin and the 32nd Missouri regiments stayed here overnight. They were bound for Vicksburg. In the 28th Wisconsin Regiment, there were many Norwegians. They told us that the 15th Wisconsin had taken part in a great battle at Stones River or Murfreesboro, and that half of the regiment had been killed or wounded. I wonder if there were any of your townsfolk amongst that lot.

Three boats loaded with troops went down the river a few days later. Shortly after that Lieutenant Christ Olsen and I were out at Prinze’s place and had a good time. A gunboat arrived about the middle of January to keep watch between the Island and New Madrid; bushwhackers had been firing at our boats plying the river.

“He talked about Prinze’s place before. That was the German farm where they went for food,” added Berte.

The weather is very uncertain. For two weeks rain kept falling, but then suddenly it turned to snow - twelve inches of it covering the ground. After that we had clear, cold days - very cold, indeed, for this part of the country. On the 25th, another gunboat came and relieved the earlier one which was being sent on to Vicksburg. By now most of the snow has disappeared, as rain had again fallen.

All for now,

Your nephew Ole.

“That was short, compared to most of his letters.”

“Go on and read the next,” said Kari.

February 30, 1863

Dear Aunt Kari and everyone,

We have had some frightening times lately. A great number of Confederate soldiers tried to come across the river from the Missouri shore during the night between February 1st and 2nd. But our guard heard something out in the water. He could not see what it was, but he shot and sounded the alarm. We got down to the bank in a hurry and held them off until the gunboat could come to our assistance. We fired a number of shots, and so did our boat. In the dark, however, we could
not tell whether we hit anything. None of the enemy was found either living or dead.

The second day of February, I had to go to the hospital because I, too, had been struck by fever and stomach trouble. The next day five companies from the 35th Iowa Regiment came to reinforce us, but our captain quickly sent them back. He told them he had no need of them. I remained in the hospital until the 12th, when I was tolerably well again. I don’t know what it was I had, maybe cholera.

On the 13th, we stopped and searched a steamer. We found that it carried considerable goods intended for the Confederate army, and also 560 letters bound for the South. Many of these dispatches were addressed to officers and men in high positions and gave detailed information
about conditions in the North and about maneuvers of the various Union armies. Sixteen of us were sent aboard the boat as guards. We took it up to Cairo where everything intended for the Southwas
unloaded and the captain put under arrest.

There was a certain suspicious-looking fellow on this boat. He wanted to leave, claiming that he lived seven miles out in the country and wished to get across the river. Our captain was willing to let him go ashore, but first he wanted to inspect the contents of the man’s knapsack. The fellow objected to strenuously, but, of course, he had to give in. A great many letters addressed to higher officers were found, destined for Richmond and other places. Furthermore, there was $35,000 in gold, also destined for Richmond and the Confederate government there. The bearer claimed this sum was intended for pupils in certain Catholic schools whose fathers were in the army. Our
captain, however, let him know that it was not necessary to smuggle money for such purposes, for it could be sent across the line by regular mail. The man was sent up North. The captain took the papers and the money and accompanied him, together with three soldiers as guards.

I hope you are well.

Your nephew,

Ole.