The Soldier Boy or Tom Somers in the Army Part 39

Tom's muscles had become loose and soft after the long continued strain upon them, and if his soul had not been ten times as big as his body, he must have sunk under the exhaustion of the day. Another desperate onslaught was required of the men of our regiment, and commanding all his energies, Tom braced himself up once more for the fearful struggle.

"How do you feel now, Tom?" demanded the anxious veteran, as he bit off the cartridge, and rammed it home.

"First rate, uncle!" replied Tom, as the regiment poured a withering volley into the rebel line.

"For Heaven's sake, Tom, don't kill yourself," added the old man, as they loaded up again. "Your knees shake under you now."

"Do you think I'm afraid, uncle?" demanded the sergeant with a grim smile.

"No, no, Tom; of course I don't think any thing of the kind. I'm afeared you'll bust a blood-vessel, or something of that sort."

"If I do, I'll let you know, uncle."

"Charge bayonets! Double quick--march!" rang along the line.

"Have at them!" cried Tom, who was always the first to catch the orders of the commanding officer. "Down with them! Give 'em Yankee Doodle, Hail, Columbia, and the Red, White, and Blue."

The advancing column, shaken by the furious fire of our regiment, recoiled before the shock. Slowly the foe fell back, leaving heaps of their slain upon the hotly-contested ground. Our boys halted, and poured in another destructive volley.

The Confederate officers rallied their men, and, maddened by the check they had received, drove them forward to recover the lost ground.

"Once more, boys! Give it to 'em again," cried Tom, as the order to advance was repeated.

His words were only representations of his actions; for, as he spoke, he rushed on a little in front of his comrades, who, however, pressed forward to keep up with him. He did not exceed the orders of his superior, but he was one of the promptest to obey them. On dashed the regiment, and again the rebel line recoiled, and soon broke in spite of the admirable efforts of their officers to keep them steady.

"Kearney! Kearney! Kearney is here!" shouted the weary heroes in various parts of the field.

"Down with them!" roared Tom, as the inspiring words rang in his ears.

"Down with them! Kearney has come, and the day is ours!"

He had scarcely uttered the words, and sprung forward, before he was seen to drop upon the ground, several paces in front of the line, though the undaunted old Hapgood was close by his side. The enemy had fled; the danger of being flanked was averted; and when Kearney's men dashed on the field, the sad-hearted veteran, a.s.sisted by Fred Pemberton, bore the silent form of the gallant sergeant to the rear.

Kearney and Hanc.o.c.k rushed gallantly to the rescue of the exhausted troops, and Hooker's division was ordered to the rear to act as a reserve.

The strife raged with unabated fury as those who had borne the brunt of the battle slowly fell back to give place to the fresh legions.

Poor Tom was tenderly carried by the wiry veteran and his friends to the surgeon's quarters in the rear. There were tears in the eyes of the old man as he laid the silent form of his _protege_ upon the wet ground. There he sat by his charge, sorrowful beyond expression, till tremendous shouts rent the air. Tom opened his eyes.

"Glory and Victory!" shouted he, in husky tones, as he sprang to his feet.

CHAPTER x.x.xII.

HONORABLE MENTION.

The surgeon examined Tom's wound, and found that he had been struck by a bullet over the left temple. The flesh was torn off, and if the skull was not fractured, it had received a tremendous hard shock. It was probably done at the instant when he turned to rally the men of Company K, and the ball glanced under the visor of his cap, close enough to sc.r.a.pe upon his skull, but far enough off to save his brains. Half an inch closer, and the bullet would have wound up Tom's earthly career.

The shock had stunned him, and he had dropped like a dead man, while the profusion of blood that came from the wound covered his face, and his friends could not tell whether he was killed or not. He was a pitiable object as he lay on the ground by the surgeon's quarters; but the veteran soon a.s.sured himself that his young charge was not dead.

Hapgood washed the gore from his face, and did what he could in his unscientific manner; and probably the cold water had a salutary effect upon the patient, for when Hanc.o.c.k and Kearney had completed their work, and the cry of victory rang over the b.l.o.o.d.y field, he was sufficiently revived to hear the inspiring tones of triumph. Leaping to his feet, faint and sick as he was, he took up the cry, and shouted in unison with the victors upon the field.

But he had scarcely uttered the notes of glory and victory before his strength deserted him, and he would have dropped upon the ground if he had not been caught by Hapgood. He groaned heavily as he sank into the arms of his friend, and yielded to the faintness and exhaustion of the moment.

The surgeon said the wound was not a very bad one, but that the patient was completely worn out by the excessive fatigues of march and battle. In due time he was conveyed to the college building in Williamsburg, where hundreds of his companions in arms were suffering and dying of their wounds. He received every attention which the circ.u.mstances would permit.

Hapgood, by sundry vigorous applications at headquarters, was, in consideration of his own and his _protege's_ good conduct on the battle field, permitted to remain with the patient over night.

The sergeant's skull, as we have before intimated, was not very badly damaged, as physical injuries were measured after the b.l.o.o.d.y battle of that day. But his wound was not the only detriment he had experienced in the trying ordeal of that terrible day. His const.i.tution had not yet been fully developed; his muscles were not hardened, and the fatigues of battle and march had a more serious effect upon him than the ounce of lead which had struck him on the forehead.

The surgeon understood his case perfectly, and after dressing his wound, he administered some simple restoratives, and ordered the patient to go to sleep. On the night of the 3d of May, he had been on guard duty; on that of the 4th, he had obtained but three hours' sleep; and thus deprived of the rest which a growing boy needs, he had pa.s.sed through the fearful scenes of the battle, in which his energies, mental and physical, had been tasked to their utmost. He was completely worn out, and in spite of the surroundings of the hospital, he went to sleep, obeying to the letter the orders of the surgeon.

After twelve hours of almost uninterrupted slumber, Tom's condition was very materially improved, and when the doctor went his morning round, our sergeant buoyantly proposed to join his regiment forthwith.

"Not yet, my boy," said the surgeon, kindly. "I shall not permit you to do duty for at least thirty days to come," he added, as he felt the patient's pulse.

"I feel pretty well, sir," replied Tom.

"No, you don't. Your regiment will remain here, I learn, for a few days, and you must keep quiet, or you will have a fever."

"I don't feel sick, and my head doesn't pain me a bit."

"That may be, but you are not fit for duty. You did too much yesterday.

They say you behaved like a hero, on the field."

"I tried to do my duty," replied Tom, his pale cheek suffused with a blush.

"Boys like you can't stand much of such work as that. We must fix you up for the next battle; and you shall go into Richmond with the rest of the boys."

"Must I stay in here all the time?"

"No, you may go where you please. I will give you a certificate which will keep you safe from harm. You can walk about, and visit your regiment if you wish."

"Thank you, doctor."

Hapgood had been compelled to leave the hospital before his patient waked, and Tom had not yet learned any thing in regard to the casualties of the battle. Armed with the surgeon's certificate, he left the hospital, and walked to the place where the steward told him he would find his regiment.

Somewhat to his astonishment he found that he was very weak; and before he had accomplished half the distance to the camp, he came to the conclusion that he was in no condition to carry a knapsack and a musket on a long march. But after resting himself for a short time, he succeeded in reaching his friends.

He was warmly received by his companions, and the veteran of the company had nearly hugged him in his joy and admiration.

"Honorable mention, Tom," said Hapgood. "You will be promoted as true as you live."

"O, I guess not," replied Tom, modestly. "I didn't do any more than any body else. At any rate, you were close by my side, uncle."

"Yes, but I followed, and you led. The commander of the division says you shall be a lieutenant. He said so on the field, and the colonel said so to-day."

"I don't think I deserve it."

"I do; and if you don't get a commission, then there ain't no justice left in the land. I tell you, Tom, you shall be a brigadier if the war lasts only one year more."