The President took a step toward him, understanding and concern in his face. “You mean—?”
“Our sons—Lewis and Charles—in the Fifty-fourth.”
Lincoln laid his hand on Douglass’ arm, then spoke quickly to his secretary.
“See that the courier has food and rest. Wire General Stephenson for the list.”
Then he was walking to the door with Douglass, his arm through his.
“Extend to your wife my deepest sympathy. I commend you both to God, who alone can give you strength. Keep me informed. You will hear from me.”
The news of the defeat ran on ahead of him. Anna was standing in the hall, waiting. He took her in his arms, and for a few moments neither spoke. Then she said, “There is no word—yet.”
Days passed, and they told themselves that no news was good news. Gradually names were made public. Horace Greeley hailed the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts as the “black phalanx.” Newspapers throughout the North said that the Negro soldier had “proven himself.” Southern papers used different words to tell the story, but they verified the fact that it was black bodies which filled the hastily dug trenches all around Fort Wagner. They had come upon a white body which was identified as the commander. It was said the order had been given to “dump him among his niggers!”
Anna Douglass wrote a letter to Robert Shaw’s mother, who lived in Boston.
“The struggle is now over for your brave son. Take comfort in the thought that he died as he lived, that he lies with those who loved him so devotedly.”