The Rock of Chickamauga by Joseph A. Altsheler (top 5 books to read TXT) 📕

The reports of the rifles and cannon kept every one alert and watchful.

Early in the night while it was yet clear Dick often saw the flashes

from the firing, but, as the morning hours approached, heavy mists began

to rise from that region of damp earth and great waters. He shivered

more than once, and on the advice of Sergeant Whitley wrapped his

cavalry cloak about him.

"Chills and fever," said the sergeant sententiously. "So much water and

marsh it's hard to escape it. The sooner we fight the better."

"Well, that's what General Grant thinks already," said Dick; "so I

suppose he doesn't need chills and fever to drive him on. All the same,

Sergeant, I'll wrap up as you say."

All the men in the Winchester regiment were soon doing the same. The

mists of the Mississippi, the Big Black and the bayous were raw and

cold, although it would be hot later on. But the period of coldness did

not last long. Soon the low sun showed in the east and the warm daylight

came. In the new light they saw the Confederate forces strongly posted

on the ridge where the halves of the road rejoined. As the Union column

came into view a cannon boomed and a shell burst in the road so near

that dirt was thrown upon them as it exploded and one man was wounded.

At the same time the column on the left under Osterhaus appeared, having

performed its semicircle about the marsh, and the whole Union army,

weary of body but eager of soul, pressed forward. The Winchester

regiment and the Ohio regiment beside it charged hotly, but were

received with a fire of great volume and accuracy that swept them from

the road. Another battery on their far left also raked them with a cross

fire, and so terrible was their reception that they were compelled to

abandon some of their own cannon and seek shelter.

The Winchester regiment, except the officers, were not mounted in this

march, as Grant would not wait for their horses, which were on another

transport. The very fact saved from death many who would have made a

more shining target. Dick's own horse was killed at the first fire,

and as he leaped clear to escape he went down to his waist in a marsh,

another fact which saved his life a second time as the new volleys swept

over his head. The horses of other officers also were killed, and the

remainder, finding themselves such conspicuous targets, sprang to the

ground. The frightened animals, tearing the reins from their hands,

raced through the thickets or fell into the marsh.

All the time Dick heard the shells and bullets shrieking and whining

over his head. But, regaining his courage and presence of mind, he

slowly pulled himself out of the marsh, taking shelter behind a huge

cypress that grew at its very edge. As he dashed the mud out of his eyes

he heard a voice saying:

"Don't push! There's room enough here for the three of us. In fact,

there's room enough behind the big trees for all the officers."

It was Warner who was speaking with such grim irony, and Pennington by

his side was hugging the tree. Shells and shot shrieked over their heads

and countless bullets hummed about them. The soldiers also had taken

shelter behind the trees, and Warner's jest about the officers was

a jest only. Nevertheless the Southern fire was great in volume and

accuracy. Bowen was an able commander with excellent men, and from

his position that covered the meeting of the roads he swept both Union

columns with a continuous hail of death.

"We must get out of this somehow," said Dick. "If we're held here in

these swamps and thickets any longer the Johnnies can shoot us down at

their leisure."

"But we won't be held!" exclaimed Pennington. "Look! One of our brigades

is through, and it's charging the enemy on the right!"

It was Hovey who had forced his way through a thicket, supposed to be

impenetrable, and who now, with a full brigade behind him, was rushing

upon Bowen's flank. Then, while the Southern defense was diverted to

this new attack, the Winchester and the Ohio regiment attacked in front,

shouting with triumph.

Hovey's rush was overpowering. He drove in the Southern flank, taking

four cannon and hundreds of prisoners, but the dauntless Confederate

commander, withdrawing his men in perfect order, retreated to a second

ridge, where he took up a stronger position than the first.

Resolute and dangerous, the men in gray turned their faces anew to the

enemy and sent back a withering fire that burned away the front ranks

of the Union army. Osterhaus, in spite of every effort, was driven back,

and the Winchesters and their Ohio friends were compelled to give ground

too. It seemed that the utmost of human effort and defiance of death

could not force the narrow passage.

But a new man, a host in himself, came upon the field. Grant, who had

been on foot for two days, endeavoring to get his army through the

thickets and morasses, heard the booming of the cannon and he knew that

the vanguards had clashed. He borrowed a cavalry horse and, galloping

toward the sound of the guns, reached the field at mid-morning. Grant

was not impressive in either figure or manner, but the soldiers had

learned to believe in him as they always believe in one who leads them

to victory.

A tremendous shout greeted his coming and the men, snatching off their

hats and caps, waved them aloft. Grant took no notice but rapidly

disposed his troops for a new and heavier battle. Dick felt the strong

and sure hand over them. The Union fire grew in might and rapidity.

McPherson arrived with two brigades to help Osterhaus, and the

strengthened division was able to send a brigade across a ravine, where

it passed further around Bowen's flank and assailed him with fury.

Dick felt that their own division under McClernand was also making

progress. Although many men were falling they pressed slowly forward,

and Grant brought up help for them too. For a long time the struggle was

carried on. It was one of the little battles of the war, but its results

were important and few were fought with more courage and resolution.

Bowen, with only eight thousand against twenty thousand, held fast

throughout all the long hot hours of the afternoon. Grant, owing to the

nature of the field, was unable to get all his numbers into battle at

once.

But when the twilight began to show Dick believed that victory was at

hand. They had not yet driven Bowen out, but they were pressing him

so close and hard, and Grant was securing so many new positions of

advantage, that the Southern leader could not make another such fight

against superior numbers in the morning.

Twilight turned into night and Bowen and his men, who had shown so much

heroism, retreated in the dark, leaving six guns and many prisoners as

trophies of the victors.

It was night when the battle ceased. Cannon and rifles flashed at fitful

intervals, warning skirmishers to keep away, but after a while they

too ceased and the Union army, exhausted by the long march of the night

before and the battle of the day, threw itself panting upon the ground.

The officers posted the sentinels in triple force, but let the remainder

of the men rest.

As Dick lay down in the long grass two or three bullets dropped from

his clothes and he became conscious, too, that a bullet had grazed his

shoulder. But these trifles did not disturb him. It was so sweet to

rest! Nothing could be more heavenly than merely to lie there in the

long, soft grass and gaze up at the luminous sky, into which the stars

now stole to twinkle down at him peacefully.

"Don't go to sleep, Dick," said a voice near him. "I admit the

temptation is strong. I feel it myself, but General Grant may have to

send you and me forward to-night to win another battle."

"George, I'm glad to hear your preachy voice over there. Hurt any?"

"No. A million cannon balls brushed my right cheek and another million

brushed my left cheek, but they didn't touch me. They scared me to

death, but in the last few minutes I've begun to come back to life. In a

quarter of an hour I'll be just as much alive as I ever was."

"Do you know anything of Pennington?"

"Yes. The rascal is lying about six feet beyond me, sound asleep. In

spite of all I could do he wouldn't stay awake. I've punched him all

over to see if he was wounded, but as he didn't groan at a single punch,

he's all right."

"That being the case, I'm going to follow Pennington's example. You may

lecture me as much as you please, George, but you'll lecture only the

night, because I'll be far away from here in a land of sweet dreams."

"All right, if you're going to do it, I will too. You'll hear my snore

before I hear yours."

Both sank in a few minutes into a deep slumber, and when they awoke the

next morning they found that Bowen had abandoned Port Gibson and had

retreated into Grand Gulf again. There was great elation among the lads

and Dick began to feel that the position of the Union army in the far

South was strengthened immeasurably. He heard that Sherman, who had

stood so staunchly at Shiloh, was on his way to join Grant. Their united

forces would press the siege of Grand Gulf and would also turn to strike

at any foe who might approach from the rear.

Never since the war began had Dick felt so elated as he did that

morning. When he saw the short, thick-set figure of Grant riding by

he believed that the Union, in the West at least, had found its man at

last.

The night came down warm and heavy. Spring was far advanced in that

Southern region, and foliage and grass were already rich and heavy.

Dick, from his dozing position beside a camp fire, saw a great mass of

tall grass and green bushes beyond which lay the deep waters of a still

creek or bayou. The air, although thick and close, conduced to rest and

the peace that reigned after the battle was soothing to his soul.

His friends, the two lads, who were knitted to him by so many hardships

and dangers shared, were sound asleep, and he could see their tanned

faces when the light of the flickering fires fell upon them. Good

old Warner! Good old Pennington! The comradeship of war knitted youth

together with ties that never could be broken.

He moved into an easier position. He lay upon the soft turf and he had

doubled his blanket under his head as a pillow. At first the droning

noises of camp or preparation had come from afar, but soon they ceased

and now the frogs down by the sluggish waters began to croak.

It was a musical sound, one that he had heard often in his native state,

and, singularly enough, the lad drew encouragement from it. "Be of good

cheer! Be of good cheer! Trust in the future! Trust in the future!" said

all those voices down among the swamps and reeds. And then Dick said

to himself: "I will trust and I will have hope!" He remembered his last

glimpse of Grant's short, strong figure and the confidence that this man

inspired in him. He, with tens of thousands of others, Abraham Lincoln

at their head, had been looking for a man, they had looked long and in

vain for such a man, but Dick was beginning to believe that they had

found him at last.

It would take much of a man to stand before the genius of Lee, but it

might be Grant. Dick's faith in the star of his country, shattered so

often for the moment, began to rise that night