Twenty-two years earlier, and throughout the next two years after, Company B of the 36th Iowa Infantry Regiment joined the Army of Tennessee and participated in the Yazoo Pass Expedition, joining the Vicksburg Campaign at along the river in Mississippi. For two months the Army of Tennessee assisted the Mississippi River Squadron, which ultimately became more of a naval battle and the army only helped with the penetration into Confederate territory.

 

The Army went on to participate in the defense of Helena, Arkansas, the Camden Expedition of the Red River Campaign, and the Battle of Marks Mills in Arkansas. During this time many soldiers were taken prisoner, and though there were battle casualties, disease and sickness claimed as many lives.

 

Facing death at every turn, the four young men of Appanoose County were able to return home without so much as a scratch, and only the horrors of seeing men die during battle, in the medic tents, or captured by the enemy. Harrington became close to Seargent Cobb, admiring his tenacity and grit as well as his bravery, with hopes of learning from him and one day becoming an officer. But all it took was for Cobb to take a Minie ball in the back, and suffer for days in agony, to change his mind.

 

By the time they’d reached the medic tent, and the surgeon examined Cobb and told Harrington there was nothing he could do, Harrington sat by his side in an attempt to comfort him.

 

“Private Harrington, will you do something for me?” Cobb said, followed by a cough that expelled blood onto his lips.

 

“Anything,” Harrington said. “You name it.”

 

“Inside my satchel are letters I wrote to my pa in Ottumwa. Take the entire satchel. The money in it, and the letters, and deliver them to my pa. He won’t be hard to find, just go to the railroad depot. I wrote about you in one of my letters. He will know my heart.”

 

Those were the last words Cobb was able to get out. After that, only coughs, gurgles, and gasps for air, until his eyes half closed and his body became lifeless. The medic closed Cobb’s eyes with the palm of his hand and then shook his head at Harrington.

 

Harrington grabbed Cobb’s satchel, stood and saluted him one last time, then left the medic tent to join his comrades. The rest of them continued to serve in Arkansas until the war ended and all boarded a steamboat upriver to St. Louis, then to Keokuk, and ultimately on the road back home.

 

But Harrington took a detour north, and Bushell joined him. Bushell wasted no time chasing his dream, well mapped out in his mind, if he made it home alive. His family had money, and ties to Des Moines jurisprudence, and sought to join the ranks there. The timing was perfect, as that very year Drake University established a law school, and Bushell would take the train from Ottumwa to Des Moines to enroll.

 

As promised, Harrington went to the train depot and found the office of the Chicago, Burlington, and Quincy Railroad, and found Mr. Cobb. Harrington, still in his Union Blues, handed Mr. Cobb his son’s satchel, and mentioned the letters. Mr. Cobb, face strewn with sadness, invited Harrington into his private office. They stood in silence as Mr. Cobb read the letters. It was a tense moment, as Harrington was not sure of how Mr. Cobb would react to his son’s death, or to Harrington’s presence with such terrible news.

 

When Mr. Cobb finished, he put all the letters back into the satchel, then stood, arms crossed with one fist pressed against his mouth, and looked out a window into the railroad yard.

 

“I want to thank you, Mr. Harrington, for fulfilling my son’s last wish.”

 

“I consider it an honor, sir.” Harrington said.

 

“What are your plans now, that the war has ended?”

 

“Haven’t given it much thought, sir. My pa runs a tavern down in Numa. Just figured I’d start where I left off in ’62.”

 

“The railroad has plans to expand westward, down through Udell and Appanoose County. How would you like to be a railroad man?”

 

“Until now I haven’t thought of it. But it sounds very intriguing, sir.”

 

“Being a soldier, you understand chain of command. You understand the natural elements, of working up a sweat, and putting in a hard day.”

 

“I do, sir.”

 

“Very well, then.” Mr. Cobb turned to face Harrington. “As a debt of gratitude, and the praise given to me by my son in his letter, I would like to offer you a position in my railroad. I would like you to help me lead a crew to build the line into Appanoose County. It pays twenty dollars a month, plus room and board, which is more or less a campfire and a tent on the side of the tracks, and bonuses should you achieve our goals. How does this sound to you?”