The Sword of Antietam: A Story of the Nation's Crisis Part 38

"And after that?"

"My regiment was sent east, sir. I went with it through the Second Mana.s.sas and Antietam. Then we came back west to help General Buell. I was at Perryville and was wounded there, but I soon got well."

"Perryville was a terrible battle. It was short, but it is incredible with what fury the troops fought. We should do better here."

d.i.c.k saw that the last sentence which was spoken in a low tone was not addressed to him. It was merely a murmured expression of the general's own thoughts, and he remained silent.

"You can go now, Lieutenant Mason," said General Thomas, after a few moments, "and let us together wish for the best."

"Thank you, sir," said d.i.c.k, highly flattered again. Then he saluted and retired.

He rode back somewhat slowly through the cedars, but he kept a wary eye.

The enemy's cavalry was daring, and he might be rushed by them at any time or be ambushed by sharpshooters on foot. His watch for the enemy also enabled him to examine the country closely. He saw many hills and hollows covered mostly with forests, with the red cedar and its dark green boughs predominating. He also saw the flash of many waters, and, where the roads cut through the soil, a deep red clay was exposed to view. He knew that it would be difficult for the armies to get into line for battle, because of the heavy, sticky nature of the ground, upon which so much rain had fallen.

He made his way safely back to the camp of his corps, although he saw hostile cavalry galloping in the valleys in the direction of Stone River, and all through the afternoon he heard the crackle of rifle shots in the same direction. The skirmishers were continually in touch and they were busy.

The corps moved up a little, but d.i.c.k thought it likely that there would be no battle the next day either. Rosecrans could not afford to attack until his full force, with all its artillery, was up, and marching was slow and exhausting in the sea of sticky mud.

d.i.c.k was right. The Northern army was practically united the next day, but so great was the exhaustion of the troops that Rosecrans did not deem it wise yet to attack his foe. He was fully aware of the quality of the Southern soldiers. He remembered how they had turned suddenly at Perryville and with inferior numbers had fought a draw. Now on the defensive, and in such a deep and sticky soil, they would have a great advantage and his generals agreed with him in waiting.

d.i.c.k spent much of this day in riding with Colonel Winchester along their lines. There was some talk about Bragg retreating, but the boy, a veteran in everything but years, knew the ominous signs. Bragg had no notion of retreating.

In the night that followed Colonel Winchester himself and some of his young officers, accompanied by the brave and skillful Sergeant Whitley, scouted toward Stone River. In the darkness and with great care, in order to avoid any sound of splashing, they waded a deep creek and came out upon a plateau, rolling slightly in character, and with a deep clay soil, very muddy from the heavy rains. A part of the plateau was cleared of forest, but here and there were groves, chiefly of the red cedar, and thickets, some of them so dense that a man would have difficulty in forcing his way through.

Colonel Winchester and his little group paused at the edge of the creek, and then dived promptly into a thicket. They saw further up the plateau many fires and the figures of men walking before them and they saw nearer by sentinels marching back and forth. They were even able to make out cannon in batteries, and they knew that it was not worth while to go any further. The Confederate army was there, and they would merely walk directly into its arms.

They returned with even greater caution than they had come, but the next day the whole division crossed the creek at another point, and as it cautiously felt its way forward it encountered another formidable body of Southern pickets hidden in the woods. There was sharp firing for a quarter of an hour, and many of the Ohio men fell, but the pickets were finally swept back, and at sunset the half circle that Rosecrans had intended to form for the attack upon the Southern army was complete.

All the movements and delays brought them up to the night before the last day in the year. The Winchester regiment with the Ohio division lay in a region of little hills and rocks, covered with forest, with which its officers and men were not familiar. On the other hand the Southern army would know every inch of it, and the inhabitants were ready and eager to give it information.

d.i.c.k could not keep from regarding the dark forests with apprehension.

He had seen the Northern generals lose so much through ignorance of the ground and uncertain movements that he feared for them again. He soon learned that Rosecrans himself shared this fear. He had come to the division and recommended its closer concentration.

But the young Ohio troops were not afraid. They said that if they were attacked they would hold their ground long enough for the rest of the Northern army to beat the Southern, and McCook himself was confident.

Meanwhile, Bragg, after delaying, had suddenly decided to make the attack himself, and throughout the day he had been gathering his whole army for the spring. All his generals, Hardee, Breckinridge, Polk, Cleburne and the rest were in position and the cavalry was led by Wheeler, a youthful rough rider, destined to become famous as Fighting Joe Wheeler.

Each general was ready to attack in the morning, but neither knew the willingness of the other. Yet everybody was aware that a great battle was soon to come. They had felt it in both armies, and for two or three days the firing of the skirmishers had been almost continuous. Scouts kept each side well informed.

d.i.c.k, Warner and Pennington, before they lay down in their blankets, listened to the faint reports of rifles. They could see little owing to the deep woods in which they lay, but the sound of the shots came clearly.

"A part of our army is to cross the fords of Stone River in the morning by daylight or before," said Warner, "and we're to surprise the enemy and rush him. I wonder if we'll do it."

"We will not," said Pennington with emphasis. "We may beat the enemy, but we will not surprise him. We never do. Why should we surprise him?

He is here in his own country. If the whole Southern army were sound asleep, a thousand of the natives would wake up their generals and tell them that the Yankee army was advancing."

"Their sentinels are watching, anyhow," said d.i.c.k, "but I imagine that we'd gain something if the first rush was ours and not theirs."

"We'll hope for the best," said Warner, "I wonder whose time this will be to get wounded. It was mine at Antietam, yours, d.i.c.k, at Perryville, and only you are left Pennington, so it's bound to be you."

"No, it won't be me," said Pennington stoutly. "I've been wounded in two or three battles already, not bad wounds, just scratches and bruises, but as there were so many of 'em you can lump 'em together, and make one big wound. That lets me out."

The Winchester regiment lay in the very thickest of the forest and in order not to indicate to the enemy their precise position no fires were lighted. The earth was still soaked deep with the heavy rains and their feet sank at every step. But they did not make many steps. They had learned enough to lie quiet, seek what rest and sleep they could find, and await the dawn.

CHAPTER XV. STONE RIVER

d.i.c.k awoke at sunrise of the last day of the year, and Warner and Pennington were up a moment later. There was no fog. The sun hung a low, red ball in the steel blue sky of winter. No fires had been lighted, cold food being served.

He heard far off to right a steady tattoo like the rapid beat of many small drums. A quiver ran through the lads who were now gathering in the wood and at its edge. But d.i.c.k knew that the fire was distant. The other wing had opened the battle, and it might be a long time before their own division was drawn into the conflict.

He stood there as the sound grew louder, a continuous crash of rifles, accompanied by the heavy boom of cannon, and far off he saw a great cloud of smoke gathering over the forest. But no shouting reached his ears, nor could he see the men in combat. Colonel Winchester, who was standing beside him, shrugged his shoulders.

"They're engaged heavily, or they will be very soon," he said.

"And it looks as if we'd have to wait," said d.i.c.k.

"Things point that way. The general thinks so, too. It seems that Bragg has moved his forces in the night, and that the portion of the enemy in front of us is some distance off."

d.i.c.k soon confided this news to Warner and Pennington, who looked discontented.

"If we've got to fight, I'd rather do it now and get it over," said Pennington. "If I'm going to be killed the difference between morning and afternoon won't matter, but if I'm not going to be killed it'll be worth a lot to get this weight off my mind."

"And if we're far away from the enemy it's easy enough for us to go up close to him," said Warner. "I take it that we're not here to keep out of his way, and, if our brethren are pounding now, oughtn't we to go in and help them pound? Remember how we divided our strength at Antietam."

d.i.c.k shrugged his shoulders. His feelings were too bitter for him to make a reply save to say: "I don't know anything about it."

Meanwhile the distant combat roared and deepened. It was obvious that a great battle was going on, but the division lay quiet obeying its orders. The sun rose higher in the cold, steely blue heavens and then d.i.c.k, who was watching a forest opposite them, uttered a loud cry. He had seen many bayonets flashing among the leafless trees.

The cry was taken up by others who saw also, and suddenly a long Southern line, less than half a mile away, emerged into the open and advanced upon them in silence, but with resolution, a bristling and terrific front of steel. After all their watching and waiting the Northern division had been surprised. Many of the officers and soldiers, too, were in tents that had been set against the cold and damp. The horses that drew the artillery were being taken to water.

It was an awful moment and d.i.c.k's heart missed more than one beat, but in that crisis the American, often impatient of discipline, showed his power of initiative and his resolute courage. While that bristling front of steel came on the soldiers formed themselves into line without waiting for the commands of the officers. The artillerymen rushed to their guns.

"Kneel, men! Kneel!" shouted Colonel Winchester to his own regiment. He and all his officers were on foot, their horses having been left in the rear the night before.

His men threw themselves down at his command, and, all along the Northern line formed so hastily, the rifles began to crackle, sending forth a sheet of fire and bullets.

The Northern cannon, handled as always with skill and courage, were at work now, too, and their sh.e.l.ls and shot lashed the Southern ranks through and through. But d.i.c.k saw no pause in the advance of the men in gray. They did not even falter. Without a particle of shelter they came on through the rain of death, their ranks closing up over the slain, their front line always presenting that bristling line of steel.

It seemed to d.i.c.k now that the points of the bayonets shone almost in his face, gleaming through the smoke that hung between them and the foe, a gap that continually grew narrower as the Southern line never ceased to come.

"Stand firm, lads; steady for G.o.d's sake, steady!" shouted Colonel Winchester, and then d.i.c.k heard no single voice, because the roar of the battle broke over them like the sudden rush of a storm. He was conscious only that the tips of the bayonets had reached them, and behind them he saw the eyes in the brown faces gleaming.

Then he did not even see the brown faces, because there was such a storm of fire and smoke pouring forth bullets like hail, and the tumult of shouts and of the crash of cannon and rifles was so awful that it blended into one general sound like the roaring of the infernal regions.

d.i.c.k felt himself borne back. It seemed to him that their line had cracked like a bow bent too much. It was not anything that he saw but a sense of the general result, and he was right. The Northern line which had not found time to form properly, was hurled back. Neither cannon nor rifles could stop the three Southern brigades which were charging them.