Blossoms on the Peach Trees

by John Comer

HOW COULD I have ever hoped to discover a cousin such as Peggy Davis, a lovely lady who lives in the same north Georgia county where her ancestors have lived for generations? Peggy and I share some ancestors, and she has the kind of family information of which genealogical dreams are made; for instance, a series of letters which her great-grandpa, Miles Lewis, wrote to his wife from Confederate army camps.

In a letter written from Falling Creek, Virginia, in 1862, Miles is concerned about his wife and two small children on the farm back in Georgia: “I want to know whether you have any money or not . . . . I don’t know how you can live without [milk]. There is $50 due me now,” and if this pay comes through, “find a good cow and buy her if you can.”

In March of 1863, Miles is encamped near Guinea Station, south of Fredericksburg, Virginia, and writes, “We have been out on a march for 2 days. . . . It snowed on us very hard, about 8 inches. . . . I want to know how your cow does and how you saved her life until grass came, if you saved it. . . . Send me some sewing thread. . . . Lot Phillips is in the Yankee army.”

Miles’ next letter to his wife says, “You wrote as though you feared you would suffer. I feel you will, but put your trust in God, live right and he will bless you. . .. Your letter brought me trouble. I don’t want you to roll any more logs, nor do any more heavy lifting if you can avoid it. I love you and my little children dearly. . . . I truly hope God will permit us to meet again on earth, if not, oh Ma, prepare to meet me where there is no separation, try to raise our children right.” The letter closes with a line to his little daughter, “Tell Pa, is there any blossoms on the peach trees?”

There is no glory in war. That I learn from these letters. Flags. Music. Parades. Speeches. They make no difference. King David and the Philistines. Hannibal crossing the Alps. Napoleon. Ulysses S. Grant or Robert E. Lee. There is no glory. There may be times when their work is necessary, and times when they do it well, but it is never glorious.

War is about keeping the milk cow alive until the grass turns green following winter. The story of war is written in the life and death of such men as Miles Lewis, who was taken away from his farm and family. War is seen in the calloused hands of his beloved Anna Milissa, who stayed home with the children and did the work of her soldier-husband while he fought in Mr. Lee’s army. War is about peach blossoms never seen. Could it be that Anna Milissa’s favorite Bible passage was Micah 4:3-4?