The Guns of Shiloh Part 13

"When I went across that stretch of woods I saw something that I didn't expect to see."

"What was it?"

"A girl on a big horse. They came and they went so fast that I just got a glimpse of them."

"A girl alone, galloping on a horse on a wintry night like this through a region infested by hostile armies! Why d.i.c.k, you're seeing shadows! Better sit down and have a cup of this good hot coffee."

But d.i.c.k shook his head. He knew now that he had seen reality, and he reported it to Colonel Winchester.

"Are you sure it was the girl you saw at the big house?" asked Colonel Winchester. "It might have been some farmer's wife galloping home from an errand late in the evening."

"It was the girl. I am sure of it," said d.i.c.k confidently.

Just at that moment Sergeant Whitley came up and saluted.

"What is it, sergeant?" asked the Colonel.

"I have been up the road some distance, sir, and I came to another road that crossed it. The second road has been cut by hoofs of eight or nine hundred horses, and I am sure, sir, that the tracks are not a day old."

Colonel Winchester looked grave. He knew that he was deep in the country of the enemy and he began to put together what d.i.c.k had seen and what the sergeant had seen. But the thought of withdrawing did not occur to his brave soul. He had been sent on an errand by General Grant and he meant to do it. But he changed his plans for the night. He had intended to keep only one man in ten on watch. Instead, he kept half, and Sergeant Whitley, veteran of Indian wars, murmured words of approval under his breath.

Whitley and Pennington were in the early watch. d.i.c.k and Warner were to come on later. The colonel spoke as if he would keep watch all night. All the horses were tethered carefully inside the ring of pickets.

"It doesn't need any mathematical calculation," said Warner, "to tell that the colonel expects trouble of some kind tonight. What its nature is, I don't know, but I mean to go to sleep, nevertheless. I have already seen so much of hardship and war that the mere thought of danger does not trouble me. I took a fort on the Tennessee, I took a much larger one on the c.u.mberland, first defeating the enemy's army in a big battle, and now I am preparing to march on Nashville. Hence, I will not have my slumbers disturbed by a mere belief that danger may come."

"It's a good resolution, George," said d.i.c.k, "but unlike you, I am subject to impulses, emotions, thrills and anxieties."

"Better cure yourself," said the Vermonter, as he rolled himself in the blankets and put his head on his arm. In two minutes he was asleep, but d.i.c.k, despite his weariness, had disturbed nerves which refused to let him sleep for a long time. He closed his eyes repeatedly, and then opened them again, merely to see the tethered horses, and beyond them the circle of sentinels, a clear moonlight falling on their rifle barrels. But it was very warm and cosy in the blankets, and he would soon fall asleep again.

He was awakened about an hour after midnight to take his turn at the watch, and he noticed that Colonel Winchester was still standing beside one of the fires, but looking very anxious. d.i.c.k felt himself on good enough terms, despite his youth, to urge him to take rest.

"I should like to do so," replied Colonel Winchester, "but d.i.c.k I tell you, although you must keep it to yourself, that I think we are in some danger. Your glimpse of the flying horsewoman, and the undoubted fact that hundreds of hors.e.m.e.n have crossed the road ahead of us, have made me put two and two together. Ah, what is it, sergeant?"

"I think I hear noises to the east of us, sir," replied the veteran.

"What kind of noises, sergeant?"

"I should say, sir, that they're made by the hoofs of horses. There, I hear them again, sir. I'm quite sure of it, and they're growing louder!"

"And so do I!" exclaimed Colonel Winchester, now all life and activity. "The sounds are made by a large body of men advancing upon us! Seize that bugle, d.i.c.k, and blow the alarm with all your might!"

d.i.c.k s.n.a.t.c.hed up the bugle and blew upon it a long shrill blast that pierced far into the forest. He blew and blew again, and every man in the little force sprang to his feet in alarm. Nor were they a moment too soon. From the woods to the east came the answering notes of a bugle and then a great voice cried: "Forward men an' wipe 'em off the face of the earth!"

It seemed to d.i.c.k that he had heard that voice before, but he had no time to think about it, as the next instant came the rush of the wild hors.e.m.e.n, a thousand strong, leaning low over their saddles, their faces dark with the pa.s.sion of anger and revenge, pistols, rifles, and carbines flashing as they pulled the trigger, giving way when empty to sabres, which gleamed in the moonlight as they were swung by powerful hands.

Colonel Winchester's whole force would have been ridden down in the twinkling of an eye if it had not been for the minute's warning. His men, leaping to their feet, s.n.a.t.c.hed up their own rifles and fired a volley at short range. It did more execution among the horses than among the hors.e.m.e.n, and the Southern rough riders were compelled to waver for a moment. Many of their horses went down, others uttered the terrible shrieking neigh of the wounded, and, despite the efforts of those who rode them, strove to turn and flee from those flaming muzzles. It was only a moment, but it gave the Union troop, save those who were already slain, time to spring upon their horses and draw back, at the colonel's shouted command, to the cover of the wood. But they were driven hard. The Confederate cavalry came on again, impetuous and fierce as ever, and urged continually by the great partisan leader, Forrest, now in the very dawn of his fame.

"It was no phantom you saw, that girl on the horse!" shouted Warner in d.i.c.k's ear, and d.i.c.k nodded in return. They had no time for other words, as Forrest's hors.e.m.e.n, far outnumbering them, now pressed them harder than ever. A continuous fire came from their ranks and at close range they rode in with the sabre.

d.i.c.k experienced the full terror and surprise of a night battle. The opposing forces were so close together that it was often difficult to tell friend from enemy. But Forrest's men had every advantage of surprise, superior numbers and perfect knowledge of the country. d.i.c.k groaned aloud as he saw that the best they could do was to save as many as possible. Why had he not taken a shot at the horse of that flying girl?

"We must keep together, d.i.c.k!" shouted Warner. "Here are Pennington and Sergeant Whitley, and there's Colonel Winchester. I fancy that if we can get off with a part of our men we'll be doing well."

Pennington's horse, shot through the head, dropped like a stone to the ground, but the deft youth, used to riding the wild mustangs of the prairie, leaped clear, seized another which was galloping about riderless, and at one bound sprang into the saddle.

"Good boy!" shouted d.i.c.k with admiration, but the next moment the hors.e.m.e.n of Forrest were rushing upon them anew. More men were killed, many were taken, and Colonel Winchester, seeing the futility of further resistance, gathered together those who were left and took flight through the forest.

Tears of mortification came to d.i.c.k's eyes, but Sergeant Whitley, who rode on his right hand, said: "It's the only thing to do. Remember that however bad your position may be it can always be worse. It's better for some of us to escape than for all of us to be down or be taken."

d.i.c.k knew that his logic was good, but the mortification nevertheless remained a long time. There was some consolation, however, in the fact that his own particular friends had neither fallen nor been taken.

They still heard the shouts of pursuing hors.e.m.e.n, and shots rattled about them, but now the covering darkness was their friend. They drew slowly away from all pursuit. The shouts and the sounds of trampling hoofs died behind them, and after two hours of hard riding Colonel Winchester drew rein and ordered a halt.

It was a disordered and downcast company of about fifty who were left. A few of these were wounded, but not badly enough to be disabled. Colonel Winchester's own head had been grazed, but he had bound a handkerchief about it, and sat very quiet in his saddle.

"My lads," he said, and his tone was sharp with the note of defiance. "We have been surprised by a force greatly superior to our own, and scarcely a sixth of us are left. But it was my fault. I take the blame. For the present, at least, we are safe from the enemy, and I intend to continue with our errand. We were to scout the country all the way to Nashville. It is also possible that we will meet the division of General Buell advancing to that city. Now, lads, I hope that you all will be willing to go on with me. Are you?"

"We are!" roared fifty together, and a smile pa.s.sed over the wan face of the colonel. But he said no more then. Instead he turned his head toward the capital city of the state, and rode until dawn, his men following close behind him. The boys were weary. In truth, all of them were, but no one spoke of halting or complained in any manner.

At sunrise they stopped in dense forest at the banks of a creek, and watered their horses. They cooked what food they had left, and after eating rested for several hours on the ground, most of them going to sleep, while a few men kept a vigilant watch.

When d.i.c.k awoke it was nearly noon, and he still felt sore from his exertions. An hour later they all mounted and rode again toward Nashville. Near night they boldly entered a small village and bought food. The inhabitants were all strongly Southern, but villagers love to talk, and they learned there in a manner admitting of no doubt, that the Confederate army was retreating southward from the line of the c.u.mberland, that the state capital had been abandoned, and that to the eastward of them the Union army, under Buell, was advancing swiftly on Nashville.

"At least we accomplished our mission," said Colonel Winchester with some return of cheerfulness. "We have discovered the retreat of General Johnston's whole army, and the abandonment of Nashville, invaluable information to General Grant. But we'll press on toward Nashville nevertheless."

They camped the next night in a forest and kept a most vigilant watch. If those terrible raiders led by Forrest should strike them again they could make but little defense.

They came the next morning upon a good road and followed it without interruption until nearly noon, when they saw the glint of arms across a wide field. Colonel Winchester drew his little troop back into the edge of the woods, and put his field gla.s.ses to his eyes.

"There are many men, riding along a road parallel to ours," he said. "They look like an entire regiment, and by all that's lucky, they're in the uniforms of our own troops. Yes, they're our own men. There can be no mistake. It is probably the advance guard of Buell's army."

They still had a trumpet, and at the colonel's order it was blown long and loud. An answering call came from the men on the parallel road, and they halted. Then Colonel Winchester's little troop galloped forward and they were soon shaking hands with the men of a mounted regiment from Ohio. They had been sent ahead by Buell to watch Johnston's army, but hearing of the abandonment of Nashville, they were now riding straight for the city. Colonel Winchester and his troop joined them gladly and the colonel rode by the side of the Ohio colonel, Mitchel.

d.i.c.k and his young comrades felt great relief. He realized the terrible activity of Forrest, but that cavalry leader, even if he had not now gone south, would hesitate about attacking the powerful regiment with which d.i.c.k now rode. Warner and Pennington shared his feelings.

"The chances are ninety per cent in our favor," said the Vermonter, "that we'll ride into Nashville without a fight. I've never been in Tennessee before, and I'm a long way from home, but I'm curious to see this city. I'd like to sleep in a house once more."

They rode into Nashville the next morning amid frowning looks, but the half deserted city offered no resistance.

CHAPTER XIII. IN THE FOREST

d.i.c.k spent a week or more in Nashville and he saw the arrival of one of General Grant's divisions on the fleet under Commodore Foote. Once more he appreciated the immense value of the rivers and the fleet to the North.

He and the two lads who were now knitted to him by sympathy, and hardships and dangers shared, enjoyed their stay in Nashville. It was pleasant to sleep once more in houses and to be sheltered from rain and frost and snow. It was pleasant, too, for these youths, who were devoted to the Union, to think that their armies had made such progress in the west. The silent and inflexible Grant had struck the first great blow for the North. The immense Confederate line in the west was driven far southward, and the capital of one of the most vigorous of the secessionist states was now held by the Union.

But a little later, news not so pleasant came to them. The energy and success of Grant had aroused jealousy. Halleck, his superior, the general of books and maps at St. Louis, said that he had transcended the limits of his command. He was infringing upon territory of other Northern generals. Halleck had not found him to be the yielding subordinate who would win successes and let others have the credit.

Grant was practically relieved of his command, and when d.i.c.k heard it he felt a throb of rage. Boy as he was, he knew that what had been won must be held. Johnston had stopped at Murfreesborough, thirty or forty miles away. His troops had recovered from their panic, caused by the fall of Donelson. Fresh regiments and brigades were joining him. His army was rising to forty thousand men, and officers like Colonel Winchester began to feel apprehensive.

Now came a period of waiting. The Northern leaders, as happened so often in this war, were uncertain of their authority, and were at cross-purposes. They seldom had the power of initiative that was permitted to the Southern generals, and of which they made such good use. d.i.c.k saw that the impression made by Donelson was fading. The North was reaping no harvest, and the South was lifting up its head again.

While he was in Nashville he received a letter from his mother in reply to one of his that he had written to her just after Donelson. She was very thankful that her son had gone safely through the battle, and since he must fight in war, which was terrible in any aspect, she was glad that he had borne himself bravely. She was glad that Colonel Kenton had escaped capture. Her brother-in-law was always good to her and was a good man. She had also received a letter from his son, her nephew, written from Richmond, She loved Harry Kenton, too, and sympathized with him, but she could not see how both sides could prevail.

d.i.c.k read the letter over and over again and there was a warm glow about his heart. What a brave woman his mother was! She said nothing about his coming back home, or leaving the war. He wrote a long reply, and he told her only of the lighter and more cheerful events that they had encountered. He described Warner, Pennington, and the sergeant, and said that he had the best comrades in the world. He told, too, of his gallant and high-minded commander, Colonel Arthur Winchester.

He was sure that the letter would reach her promptly, as it pa.s.sed all the way through territory now controlled by the North. The next day after sending it he heard with joy that Grant was restored to his command, and two days later Colonel Winchester and his men were ordered to join him at Pittsburg Landing, on the Tennessee River. They heard also that Buell, with his whole division, was soon to march to the same place, and they saw in it an omen of speedy and concentrated action.

"I imagine," said Warner, "that we'll soon go down in Mississippi hunting Johnston. We must outnumber the Johnny Rebs at least two to one. I'm not a general, though any one can see that I ought to be, and if we were to follow Johnston's army and crush it the war would soon be ended in the west."

"You've got a mighty big 'if'," said d.i.c.k. "If we march into Mississippi we get pretty far from our base. We'll have to send a long distance through hostile country for fresh supplies and fresh troops, while the Southerners will be nearer to their own. Besides, it's not so certain that we can destroy Johnston when we find him."

"Your talk sounds logical, and that being the case, I'll leave our future movements to General Grant. Anyway, it's a good thing not to have so much responsibility on your shoulders."

They came in a few days to the great camp on the Tennessee. Spring was now breaking through the crust of winter. Touches of green were appearing on the forests and in the fields. Now and then the wonderful pungent odor of the wilderness came to them and life seemed to have taken on new zest. They were but boys in years, and the terrible scenes of Donelson could not linger with them long.

They found Colonel Newcomb and the little detachment of Pennsylvanians with Grant, and Colonel Winchester, resuming command of his regiment, camped by their side, delighted to be with old friends again. Colonel Winchester had lost a portion of his regiment, but there were excuses. It had happened in a country well known to the enemy and but little known to him, and he had been attacked in overwhelming force by the rough-riding Forrest, who was long to be a terror to the Union divisions. But he had achieved the task on which he had been sent, and he was thanked by his commander.

d.i.c.k, as he went on many errands or walked about in the course of his leisure hours with his friends, watched with interest the growth of a great army. There were more men here upon the banks of the Tennessee than he had seen at Bull Run. They were gathered full forty thousand strong, and General Buell's army also, he learned, had been put under command of General Grant and was advancing from Nashville to join him.

d.i.c.k also observed with extreme interest the ground upon which they were encamped and the country surrounding it. There was the deep Tennessee, still swollen by spring rains, upon the left bank of which they lay, with the stream protecting one flank. In the river were some of the gunboats which had been of such value to Grant. All about them was rough, hilly country, almost wholly covered with brushwood and tall forest. There were three deep creeks, given significant names by the pioneers. Lick Creek flowed to the south of them into the Tennessee, and Owl Creek to the north sought the same destination. A third, Snake Creek, was lined with deep and impa.s.sable swamps to its very junction with the river.

Some roads of the usual frontier type ran through this region, and at a point within the Northern lines stood a little primitive log church that they called Shiloh. It was of the kind that the pioneers built everywhere as they moved from the Atlantic to the Pacific. Shiloh belonged to a little body of Methodists. d.i.c.k went into it more than once. There was no pastor and no congregation now, but the little church was not molested. He sat more than once on an uncompromising wooden bench, and looked out through a window, from which the shutter was gone, at the forest and the army.

Sitting here in this primitive house of worship, he would feel a certain sadness. It seemed strange that a great army, whose purpose was to destroy other armies, should be encamped around a building erected in the cause of the Prince of Peace. The mighty and terrible nature of the war was borne in upon him more fully than ever.

But optimism was supreme among the soldiers. They had achieved the great victory of Donelson in the face of odds that had seemed impossible. They could defeat all the Southern forces that lay between them and the Gulf. The generals shared their confidence. They did not fortify their camp. They had not come that far South to fight defensive battles. It was their place to attack and that of the men in gray to defend. They had advanced in triumph almost to the Mississippi line, and they would soon be pursuing their disorganized foe into that Gulf State.

Several new generals came to serve under Grant. Among them was one named Sherman, to whom d.i.c.k bore messages several times, and who impressed him with his dry manner and curt remarks which were yet so full of sense.

It was Sherman's division, in fact, that was encamped around the little church, and d.i.c.k soon learned his opinions. He did not believe that they would so easily conquer the South. He did not look for any triumphal parade to the Gulf. In the beginning of the war he had brought great enmity and criticism upon himself by saying that 200,000 men at least would be needed at once to crush the Confederacy in the west alone. And yet it was to take more than ten times that number four bitter years to achieve the task in both west and east.

But optimism continued to reign in the Union army. Buell would arrive soon with his division and then seventy thousand strong they would resume their march southward, crushing everything. Meanwhile it was pleasant while they waited. They had an abundance of food. They were well sheltered from the rains. The cold days were pa.s.sing, nature was bursting into its spring bloom, and the crisp fresh winds that blew from the west and south were full of life and strength. It was a joy merely to breathe.

One rainy day the three boys, who had met by chance, went into the little church for shelter from a sudden spring rain. From the shutterless window d.i.c.k saw Sergeant Whitley scurrying in search of a refuge, and they called to him. He came gladly and took a seat in one of the rough wooden pews of the little church of Shiloh. The three boys had the greatest respect for the character and judgment of the sergeant, and d.i.c.k asked him when he thought the army would march.

"They don't tell these things to sergeants," said Whitley.

"But you see and you know a lot about war."

"Well, you've noticed that the army ain't gettin' ready to march. When General Buell gets here we'll have nigh onto seventy thousand men, and seventy thousand men can't lift themselves up by their bootstraps an' leave, all in a mornin'."

"But we don't have to hurry," said Pennington. "There's no Southern army west of the Alleghanies that could stand before our seventy thousand men for an hour."

"General Buell ain't here yet."

"But he's coming."

"But he ain't here yet," persisted the sergeant, "an' he can't be here for several days, 'cause the roads are mighty deep in the spring mud. Don't say any man is here until he is here. An' I tell you that General Johnston, with whom we've got to deal, is a great man. I wasn't with him when he made that great march through the blizzards an' across the plains to Salt Lake City to make the Mormons behave, but I've served with them that was. An' I've never yet found one of them who didn't say General Johnston was a mighty big man. Soldiers know when the right kind of a man is holdin' the reins an' drivin' 'em. Didn't we all feel that we was bein' driv right when General Grant took hold?"

"We all felt it," said the three in chorus.

"Of course you did," said the sergeant, "an' now I've got a kind of uneasy feelin' over General Johnston. Why don't we hear somethin' from him? Why don't we know what he's doin'? We haven't sent out any scoutin' parties. On the plains, no matter how strong we was, we was always on the lookout for hostile Indians, while here we know there is a big Confederate army somewhere within fifty miles of us, but don't take the trouble to look it up."

"That's so," said Warner. "Caution represents less than five per cent of our effectiveness. But I suppose we can whip the Johnnies anyway."

"Of course we can," said Pennington, who was always of a most buoyant temperament.

Sergeant Whitley went to the shutterless window, and looked out at the forest and the long array of tents.

"The rain is about over," he said. "It was just a pa.s.sin' shower. But it looks as if it had already added a fresh shade of green to the leaves and gra.s.s. Cur'us how quick a rain can do it in spring, when everything is just waitin' a chance to grow, and bust into bloom. I've rid on the plains when everything was brown an' looked dead. 'Long come a big rain an' the next day everything was green as far as the eye could reach an' you'd see little flowers bloomin' down under the shelter of the gra.s.s."

"I didn't know you had a poetical streak in you, sergeant," said d.i.c.k, who marked his abrupt change from the discussion of the war to a far different topic.

"I think some of it is in every man," replied Sergeant Whitley gravely. "I remember once that when we had finished a long chase after some Northern Cheyennes through mighty rough and dry country we came to a little valley, a kind of a pocket in the hills, fed by a fine creek, runnin' out of the mountains on one side, into the mountains on the other. The pocket was mebbe two miles long an' mebbe a mile across, an' it was chock full of green trees an' green gra.s.s, an' wild flowers. We enjoyed its comforts, but do you think that was all? Every man among us, an' there was at least a dozen who couldn't read, admired its beauties, an' begun to talk softer an' more gentle than they did when they was out on the dry plains. An' you feel them things more in war than you do at any other time."

"I suppose you do," said d.i.c.k. "The spring is coming out now in Kentucky where I live, and I'd like to see the new gra.s.s rippling before the wind, and the young leaves on the trees rustling softly together."

"Stop sentimentalizing," said Warner. "If you don't it won't be a minute before Pennington will begin to talk about his Nebraska plains, and how he'd like to see the buffalo herds ten million strong, rocking the earth as they go galloping by."

Pennington smiled.

"I won't see the buffalo herds," he said, "but look at the wild fowl going north."

They left the window as the rain had ceased, and went outside. All this region was still primitive and thinly settled, and now they saw flocks of wild ducks and wild geese winging northward. The next day the heavens themselves were darkened by an immense flight of wild pigeons. The country cut up by so many rivers, creeks and brooks swarmed with wild fowl, and more than once the soldiers roused up deer from the thickets.

The second day after the talk of the four in the little church d.i.c.k, who was now regarded as a most efficient and trusty young staff officer, was sent with a dispatch to General Buell requesting him to press forward with as much speed as he could to the junction with General Grant. Several other aides were sent by different routes, in order to make sure that at least one would arrive, but d.i.c.k, through his former ride with Colonel Winchester to Nashville, had the most knowledge of the country, and hence was likely to reach Buell first.

As the boy rode from the camp and crossed the river into the forest he looked back, and he could not fail to notice to what an extent it was yet a citizen army, and not one of trained soldiers. The veteran sergeant had already called his attention to what he deemed grave omissions. In the three weeks that they had been lying there they had thrown up no earthworks. Not a spade had touched the earth. Nor was there any other defense of any kind. The high forest circled close about them, dense now with foliage and underbrush, hiding even at a distance of a few hundred yards anything that might lie within. The cavalry in these three weeks had made one scouting expedition, but it was slight and superficial, resulting in nothing. The generals of divisions posted their own pickets separately, leaving numerous wide breaks in the line, and the farmer lads, at the change of guard, invariably fired their rifles in the air, to signify the joy of living, and because it was good to hear the sound.

Now that he was riding away from them, these things impressed d.i.c.k more than when he was among them. Sergeant Whitley's warning and pessimistic words came back to him with new force, but, as he rode into the depths of the forest, he shook off all depression. Those words, "Seventy thousand strong!" continually recurred to him. Yes, they would be seventy thousand strong when Buell came up, and the boys were right. Certainly there was no Confederate force in the west that could resist seventy thousand troops, splendidly armed, flushed with victory and led by a man like Grant.

Seventy thousand strong! d.i.c.k's heart beat high at the unuttered words. Why should Grant fortify? It was for the enemy, not for him, to do such a thing. Nor was it possible that Johnston even behind defenses could resist the impact of the seventy thousand who had been pa.s.sing from one victory to another, and who were now in the very heart of the enemy's country.

His heart continued to beat high and fast as he rode through the green forest. Its strong, sweet odors gave a fillip to his blood, and he pressed his horse to new speed. He rode without interruption night and day, save a few hours now and then for sleep, and reached the army of Buell which deep in mud was toiling slowly forward.

Buell was not as near to Shiloh as d.i.c.k had supposed, but his march had suffered great hindrances. Halleck, in an office far away in St. Louis, had undertaken to manage the campaign. His orders to Buell and his command to Grant had been delayed. Buell, who had moved to the town of Columbia, therefore had started late through no fault of his.

Duck River, which Buell was compelled to cross, was swollen like all the other streams of the region, by the great rains and was forty feet deep. The railway bridge across it had been wrecked by the retreating Confederates and he was compelled to wait there two weeks until his engineers could reconstruct it.