CHAPTER XI. THE SOUTHERN ATTACK
The excitement in the Union army was intense and joyous. The cheersrolled like volleys among these farmer lads of the West. Dick, Warnerand Pennington stood up and shouted with the rest.
"I should judge that our chances of success have increased at leastfifty, yes sixty, per cent," said Warner. "As we have remarked before,this control of the water is a mighty thing. We fight the Johnnie Rebsfor the land, but we have the water already. Look at those gunboats,will you? Aren't they the sauciest little things you ever saw?"
Once more the navy was showing, as it has always shown throughoutits career, its daring and brilliant qualities. Foote, the commodore,although he had had no time to repair his four small fighting boatsafter the encounter with Fort Henry, steamed straight up the riverand engaged the concentric fire from the great guns of the Southernbatteries, which opened upon him with a tremendous crash. The boyswatched the duel with amazement. They did not believe that small vesselscould live under such fire, but live they did. Great columns of smokefloated over them and hid them at times from the watchers, but when thesmoke lifted a little or was split apart by the shattering fire of theguns the black hulls of the gunboats always reappeared, and now theywere not more than three or four hundred yards from Donelson.
"I take it that this is a coverin' fire," said Sergeant Whitley,who stood by. "Four little vessels could not expect to reduce such apowerful fortress as Donelson. It's not Fort Henry that they're fightin'now."
"The chances are at least ninety-five per cent in favor of yoursupposition," said Warner.
The sergeant's theory, in fact, was absolutely correct. Further downthe river the transports were unloading regiment after regiment offresh troops, and vast supplies of ammunition and provisions. Soon fivethousand men were formed in line and marched to Grant's relief, whilelong lines of wagons brought up the stores so badly needed. Now thestern and silent general was able to make the investment complete, butthe fiery little fleet did not cease to push the attack.
There was a time when it seemed that the gunboats would be able to passthe fortress and rake it from a point up the river. Many of the guns inthe water batteries had been silenced, but the final achievement was toogreat for so small a force. The rudder of one of Foote's gunboats wasshot away, the wheel of another soon went the same way, and both driftedhelplessly down the stream. The other two then retreated, and the fireof both fort and fleet ceased.
But there was joy in the Union camp. The soldiers had an abundanceof food now, and soon the long ring of fires showed that they werepreparing it. Their forces had been increased a third, and there was afresh outburst of courage and vigor. But Grant ordered no more attacksat present. After the men had eaten and rested a little, picks andspades were swung along a line miles in length. He was fortifying hisown position, and it was evident to his men that he meant to stay thereuntil he won or was destroyed.
Dick was conscious once more of a sanguine thrill. Like the others, hefelt the strong hand over him, and the certainty that they were led withjudgment and decision made him believe that all things were possible.Yet the work of fortifying continued but a little while. The men wereexhausted by cold and fatigue, and were compelled to lay down theirtools. The fires were built anew, and they hovered about them forshelter and rest.
The wan twilight showed the close of the wintry day, and with theincreasing chill a part of Dick's sanguine feeling departed. The gallantlittle fleet, although it had brought fresh men and supplies and hadprotected their landing, had been driven back. The investment of thefort was complete only on one side of the river, and steamers coming upthe Cumberland from Nashville might yet take off the garrison in safety.Then the work of the silent general, all their hardship and fightingwould be at least in part a failure. The Vermont youth, who seemed to bealways of the same temper, neither very high nor very low, noticed hischange of expression.
"Don't let your hopes decrease, Dick," he said. "Remember that at leasttwenty per cent of the decline is due to the darkness and inaction.In the morning, when the light comes once more, and we're up and doingagain, you'll get back all the twenty per cent you're losing now."
"It's not to be all inaction with you boys tonight, even," said ColonelWinchester, who overheard his closing words. "I want you three to gowith me on a tour of inspection or rather scouting duty. It may pleaseyou to know that it is the special wish of General Grant. Aware that Ihad some knowledge of the country, he has detailed me for the duty, andI choose you as my assistants. I'm sure that the skill and danger such atask requires will make you all the more eager for it."
The three youths responded quickly and with zeal, and Sergeant Whitley,when he was chosen, too, nodded in silent gratitude. The night was dark,overcast with clouds, and in an hour Colonel Winchester with his fourdeparted upon his perilous mission. He was to secure information inregard to the Southern army, and to do that they were to go very nearthe Southern lines, if not actually inside them. Such an attempt wouldbe hazardous in the extreme in the face of a vigilant watch; but on theother hand they would be aided by the fact that both North and Southwere of like blood and language. Even more, many of those in theopposing camps came from the same localities, and often were of kin.
Dick's regiment had been stationed at the southern end of the line, nearthe little town of Dover, but they now advanced northward and westward,marching for a long time along their inner line. It was ColonelWinchester's intention to reach Hickman Creek, which formed theirnorthern barrier, creep in the fringe of bushes on its banks, and thenapproach the fort.
When they reached the desired point the night was well advanced, andyet dark with the somber clouds hanging over river and fort and fieldof battle. The wind blew out of the northwest, sharp and intensely cold.The snow crunched under their feet. But the four had wrapped themselvesin heavy overcoats, and they were so engrossed in their mission thatneither wind nor snow was anything to them.
They passed along the bank of the creek, keeping well within the shadowof the bushes, leaving behind them the last outpost of the Union army,and then slowly drew near to the fort. They saw before them many lightsburning in the darkness, and at last they discerned dim figures walkingback and forth. Dick knew that these were the Southern sentinels. Thefour went a little nearer, and then crouched down in the snow among somelow bushes.
Now they saw the Southern sentinels more distinctly. Some, in fact, weresilhouetted sharply as they passed before the Southern fires. Northernsharpshooters could have crept up and picked off many of them, as theSouthern sharpshooters in turn might have served many of the Northernwatchers, but in this mighty war there was little of such useless andmerciless enterprise. The men soon ceased to have personal animosity,and, in the nights between the great battles, when the armies yetlay face to face, the hostile pickets would often exchange gossip andtobacco. Even in a conflict waged so long and with such desperation theessential kindliness of human nature would assert itself.
The four, as they skirted the Southern line, noticed no signs of furtherpreparations by the Confederates. No men were throwing up earthworks ordigging trenches. As well as they could surmise, the garrison, like thebesieging army, was seeking shelter and rest, and from this fact thekeen mind of Colonel Arthur Winchester divined that the defense wasconfused and headless.
Colonel Winchester knew most of the leaders within Donelson. He knewthat Pillow was not of a strong and decided nature. Nor was Floyd, whowould rank first, of great military capacity. Buckner had talent and hehad served gallantly in the Mexican War, but he could not prevail overthe others. The fame of Forrest, the Tennessee mountaineer, was alreadyspreading, but a cavalryman could do little for the defense of a fortbesieged by twenty thousand well equipped men, led by a general ofunexcelled resolution.
All that Colonel Winchester surmised was true. Inside the fort confusionand doubt reigned. The fleeing garrison from Fort Henry had broughtexaggerated reports of Grant's army. Very few of the thousands of youngtroops had ever b
een in battle before. They, too, suffered though ina less degree from cold and fatigue, but many were wounded. Pillow andFloyd, who had just arrived with his troops, talked of one thing andthen another. Floyd, who might have sent word to his valiant and ablechief, Johnston, did not take the trouble or forgot to inform him of hisposition. Buckner wanted to attack Grant the next morning with the fullSouthern strength, and a comrade of his on old battlefields, ColonelGeorge Kenton, seconded him ably. The black-bearded Forrest strode backand forth, striking the tops of his riding boots with a small ridingwhip, and saying ungrammatically, but tersely and emphatically:
"We mustn't stay here like hogs in a pen. We must git at 'em with allour men afore they can git at us."
The illiterate mountaineer and stock driver had evolved exactly the sameprinciple of war that Napoleon used.
But Colonel Winchester and his comrades could only guess at what wasgoing on in Donelson, and a guess always remains to be proved. So theymust continue their perilous quest. Once they were hailed by a Southernsentinel, but Colonel Winchester replied promptly that they belonged toBuckner's Kentuckians and had been sent out to examine the Union camp.He passed it off with such boldness and decision that they were gonebefore the picket had time to express a doubt.
But as they came toward the center of the line, and drew nearer to thefort itself, they met another picket, who was either more watchful ormore acute. He hailed them at a range of forty or fifty yards, and whenColonel Winchester made the same reply he ordered them to halt and givethe countersign. When no answer came he fired instantly at the tallfigure of Colonel Winchester and uttered a loud cry of, "Yankees!"
Luckily the dim light was tricky and his bullet merely clipped thecolonel's hair. But there was nothing for the four to do now save to runwith all their undignified might for their own camp.
"Come on, lads!" shouted Colonel Winchester. "Our scouting is over forthe time!"
The region behind them contained patches of scrub oaks and bushes, andwith their aid and that of the darkness, it was not difficult to escape;but Dick, while running just behind the others, stepped in a hole andfell. The snow and the dead leaves hid the sound of his fall andthe others did not notice it. As he looked up he saw their dim formsdisappearing among the bushes. He rose to his own feet, but uttereda little cry as a ligament in his ankle sent a warning throb of painthrough his body.
It was not a wrench, only a bruise, and as he stretched his ankle a fewtimes the soreness went away. But the last sound made by the retreatingfootsteps of his comrades had died, and their place had been taken bythose of his pursuers, who were now drawing very near.
Dick had no intention of being captured, and, turning off at a rightangle, he dropped into a gully which he encountered among some bushes.The gully was about four feet deep and half full of snow. Dick threwhimself full length on his side, and sank down in the snow until he wasnearly covered. There he lay panting hard for a few moments, but quitesure that he was safe from discovery. Only a long and most minutesearch would be likely to reveal the dark line in the snow beneath theoverhanging bushes.
Dick's heart presently resumed its normal beat, and then he heard thesound of voices and footsteps. Some one said:
"They went this way, sir, but they were running pretty fast."
"They'd good cause to run," said a brusque voice. "You'd a done it, too,if you'd expected to have the bullets of a whole army barkin' at yourheels."
The footsteps came nearer, crunching on the snow, which lay deep thereamong the bushes. They could not be more than a dozen feet away, butDick quivered only a little. Buried as he was and with the hangingbushes over him he was still confident that no one could see him. Heraised himself the least bit, and looking through the boughs, saw atanned and dark face under the broad brim of a Confederate hat. Justthen some one said:
"We might have trailed 'em, general, but the snow an' the earth havealready been tramped all up by the army."
"They're not wuth huntin' long anyway," said the same brusque voice. "Afew Yankees prowlin' about in the night can't do us much harm. It's hardfightin' that'll settle our quarrel."
General Forrest came a little closer and Dick, from his concealmentin the snow, surmising his identity, saw him clearly, although himselfunseen. He was fascinated by the stern, dark countenance. The face ofthe unlettered mountaineer was cut sharp and clear, and he had the lookof one who knew and commanded. In war he was a natural leader of men,and he had already assumed the position.
"Don't you agree with me, colonel?" he said over his shoulder to someone.
"I think you're right as usual, General Forrest," replied a voice witha cultivated intonation, and Dick started violently in his bed of snow,because he instantly recognized the voice as that of his uncle, ColonelGeorge Kenton, Harry's father. A moment later Colonel Kenton himselfstood where the moonlight fell upon his face. Dick saw that he was wornand thin, but his face had the strong and resolute look characteristicof those descended from Henry Ware, the great borderer.
"You know, general, that I endorse all your views," continued ColonelKenton. "We are unfortunate here in having a division of counsels, whilethe Yankees have a single and strong head. We have underrated this manGrant. Look how he surprised us and took Henry! Look how he hangs onhere! We've beaten him on land and we've driven back his fleet, buthe hangs on. To my mind he has no notion of retreating. He'll keep onpounding us as long as we are here."
"That's his way, an' it ought to be the way of every general," growledForrest. "You cut down a tree by keepin' on cuttin' out chips with anaxe, an' you smash up an army by hittin' an' hittin' an' keepin' onhittin'. We ought to charge right out of our works an' jump on theYankees with all our stren'th."
The two walked on, followed by the soldiers who had come with them, andDick heard no more. But he was too cautious to stir for a long while.He lay there until the cold began to make its way through his boots andheavy overcoat. Then he rose carefully, brushed off the snow, and beganhis retreat toward the Union lines. Four or five hundred yards furtheron and he met Colonel Winchester and his own comrades come back tosearch for him. They welcomed him joyfully.
"We did not miss you until we were nearly to our own pickets," said thecolonel. "Then we concluded that you had fallen and had been takenby the enemy, but we intended to see if we could find you. We've beenhovering about here for some time."
Dick told what he had seen and heard, and the colonel considered it ofmuch importance.
"I judge from what you heard that they will attack us," he said."Buckner and Forrest will be strongly for it, and they're likely to havetheir way. We must report at once to General Grant."
The Southern attack had been planned for the next morning, but it didnot come then. Pillow, for reasons unknown, decided to delay anotherday, and his fiery subordinates could do nothing but chafe and wait.Dick spent most of the day carrying orders for his chief, and thecontinuous action steadied his nerves.
As he passed from point to point he saw that the Union army itselfwas far from ready. It was a difficult task to get twenty thousandraw farmer youths in proper position. They moved about often withoutcohesion and sometimes without understanding their orders. Greatgaps remained in the line, and a daring and skilful foe might cut thebesieging force asunder.
But Grant had put his heavy guns in place, and throughout the day hemaintained a slow but steady fire upon the fort. Great shells and solidshot curved and fell upon Donelson. Grant did not know what damage theywere doing, but he shrewdly calculated that they would unsteady thenerves of the raw troops within. These farmer boys, as they heard theunceasing menace of the big guns, would double the numbers of their foe,and attribute to him an unrelaxing energy.
Thus another gray day of winter wore away, and the two forces drew alittle nearer to each other. Far away the rival Presidents at Washingtonand Richmond were wondering what was happening to their armies in thedark wilderness of Western Tennessee.
The night was more quiet than the one that had just gon
e before. Thebooming of the cannon as regular as the tolling of funeral bells hadceased with the darkness, but in its place the fierce winter wind hadbegun to blow again. Dick, relaxed and weary after his day's work,hovered over one of the fires and was grateful for the warmth. Hehad trodden miles through slush and snow and frozen earth, and he wasplastered to the waist with frozen mud, which now began to soften andfall off before the coals.
Warner, who had been on active duty, too, also sank to rest with a sighof relief.
"It's battle tomorrow, Dick," he said, "and I don't care. As it didn'tcome off today the chances are at least eighty per cent that it willhappen the next day. You say that when you were lying in the snow lastnight, Dick, you saw your uncle and that he's a colonel in the rebelarmy. It's queer."
"You're wrong, George, it isn't queer. We're on opposite sides, servingat the same place, and it's natural that we should meet some time orother. Oh, I tell you, you fellows from the New England and the otherNorthern States don't appreciate the sacrifices that we of the borderstates make for the Union. Up there you are safe from invasion. Yourhouses are not on the battlefields. You are all on one side. You don'thave to fight against your own kind, the people you hold most dear.And when the war is over, whether we win or lose, you'll go back tounravaged regions."
"You wrong me there, Dick. I have thought of it. It's the people of theborder, whether North or South, who pay the biggest price. We risk ourlives, but you risk your lives also, and everything else, too."
Dick wrapped himself in a heavy blanket, pillowed his head on a logbefore one of the fires and dozed a while. His nerves had been tried toohard to permit of easy sleep. He awoke now and then and over a wide areasaw the sinking fires and the moving forms of men. He felt that asense of uneasiness pervaded the officers. He knew that many of themconsidered their forces inadequate for the siege of a fortress defendedby a large army, but he felt with the sincerity of conviction also, thatGrant would never withdraw.
He heard from Colonel Winchester about midnight in one of his wakefulintervals that General Grant was going down the river to see CommodoreFoote. The brave leader of the fleet had been wounded severely in thelast fight with the fort, and the general wished to confer with himabout the plan of operations. But Dick heard only vaguely. The statementmade no impression upon him at that time. Yet he was conscious thatthe feeling of uneasiness still pervaded the officers. He noticed itin Colonel Winchester's tone, and he noticed it, too, in the voices ofColonel Newcomb and Major Hertford, who came presently to confer withWinchester.
But the boy fell into his doze again, while they were talking. Warnerand Pennington, who had done less arduous duties, were sound asleep nearhim, the low flames now and then throwing a red light on their tannedfaces. It seemed to him that it was about half way between midnight andmorning, and the hum and murmur had sunk to a mere minor note. But hissleepy eyes still saw the dim forms of men passing about, and then hefell into his uneasy doze again.
When he awoke once more it was misty and dark, but he felt that the dawnwas near. In the east a faint tint of silver showed through the cloudsand vapors. Heavy banks of fog were rising from the Cumberland and theflooded marshes. The earth began to soften as if unlocking from the hardfrost of the night.
Colonel Winchester stood near him and his position showed that he wasintensely awake. He was bent slightly forward, and every nerve andmuscle was strained as if he were eager to see and hear something whichhe knew was there, but which he could not yet either see or hear.
Dick threw off his blanket and sprang to his feet. At the same momentColonel Winchester motioned him to awaken Warner and Pennington, whichhe did at once in speed and silence. That tint of silver, the lining ofthe fogs and vapors, shone more clearly through, and spread across theEast. Dick knew now that the dawn was at hand.
The loud but mellow notes of a trumpet came from a distant point towardDonelson, and then others to right and left joined and sang the samemellow song. But it lasted only for a minute. Then it was lost in therapid crackle of rifles, which spread like a running fire along afront of miles. The sun in the east swung clear of the earth, its beamsshooting a way through fogs and vapors. The dawn had come and the attackhad come with it.
The Southerners, ready at last, were rushing from their fort and works,and, with all the valor and fire that distinguished them upon countlessoccasions, they were hurling themselves upon their enemy. The fortresspoured out regiment after regiment. Chafing so long upon the defenseSouthern youth was now at its best. Attacking, not attacked, the farmerlads felt the spirit of battle blaze high in their breasts. The long,terrible rebel yell, destined to be heard upon so many a desperatefield, fierce upon its lower note, fierce upon its higher note, asfierce as ever upon its dying note, and coming back in echoes still asfierce, swelled over forest and fort, marsh and river.
The crackling fire of the pickets ceased. They had been driven back in afew moments upon the army, but the whole regiment of Colonel Winchesterwas now up, rifle in hand, and on either side of it, other regimentssteadied themselves also to receive the living torrent.
The little band of Pennsylvanians were on the left of the Kentuckiansand were practically a part of them. Colonel Newcomb and Major Hertfordstood amid their men, encouraging them to receive the shock. But Dickhad time for only a glance at these old comrades of his. The Southernwave, crested with fire and steel, was rolling swiftly upon them, and asthe Southern troops rushed on they began to fire as fast as they couldpull the trigger, fire and pull again.
Bullets in sheets struck in the Union ranks. Hundreds of men went down.Dick heard the thud of lead and steel on flesh, and the sudden cries ofthose who were struck. It needs no small courage to hold fast againstmore than ten thousand men rushing forward at full speed and bent uponvictory or death.
Dick felt all the pulses in his temples beating hard, and he had ahorrible impulse to break and run, but pride kept him firm. As anofficer, he had a small sword, and snatching it out he waved it, whileat the same time he shouted to the men to meet the charge.
The Union troops returned the fire. Thousands of bullets were sentagainst the ranks of the rushing enemy. The gunners sprang to their gunsand the deep roar of the cannon rose above the crash of the small arms.But the Southern troops, the rebel yell still rolling through the woods,came on at full speed and struck the Union front.
It seemed to Dick that he was conscious of an actual physical shock.Tanned faces and gleaming eyes were almost against his own. He lookedinto the muzzles of rifles, and he saw the morning sun flashing alongthe edges of bayonets. But the regiment, although torn by bullets, didnot give ground. The charge shivered against them, and the Southerntroops fell back. Yet it was only for a moment. They came again to bedriven back as before, and then once more they charged, while theirresolute foe swung forward to meet them rank to rank.
Dick was not conscious of much except that he shouted continuously tothe men to stand firm, and wondered now and then why he had not beenhit. The Union men and their enemy were reeling back and forth, neitherwinning, neither losing, while the thunder of battle along a long andcurving front beat heavily on the drums of every ear. The smoke, lowdown, was scattered by the cannon and rifles, but above it gathered in agreat cloud that seemed to be shot with fire.
The two colonels, Winchester and Newcomb, were able and valiant men.Despite their swelling losses they always filled up the ranks and heldfast to the ground upon which they had stood when they were attacked.But for the present they had no knowledge how the battle was goingelsewhere. The enemy just before them allowed no idle moments.
Yet Grant, as happened later on at Shiloh, was taken by surprise. Whenthe first roar of the battle broke with the dawn he was away conferringwith the wounded naval commander, Foote. His right, under McClernand,had been caught napping, and eight thousand Southern troops striking itwith a tremendous impact just as the men snatched up their arms, droveit back in heavy loss and confusion. Its disaster was increased when aSouthern general, Ba
ldwin, led a strong column down a deep ravine nearthe river and suddenly hurled it upon the wavering Union flank.
Whole regiments retreated now, and guns were lost. The Southernofficers, their faces glowing, shouted to each other that the battlewas won. And still the combat raged without the Union commander, Grant,although he was coming now as fast as he could with the increasing roarof conflict to draw him on. The battle was lost to the North. Butit might be won back again by a general who would not quit. Only thebulldog in Grant, the tenacious death grip, could save him now.
Dick and his friends suddenly became conscious that both on their rightand left the thunder of battle was moving back upon the Union camp.They realized now that they were only the segment of a circle extendingforward practically within the Union lines, and that the combatwas going against them. The word was given to retreat, lest they besurrounded, and they fell back slowly disputing with desperation everyfoot of ground that they gave up. Yet they left many fallen behind. Afourth of the regiment had been killed or wounded already, and therewere tears in the eyes of Colonel Winchester as he looked over the tornranks of his gallant men.
Now the Southerners, meaning to drive victory home, were bringing uptheir reserves and pouring fresh troops upon the shattered Union front.They would have swept everything away, but in the nick of time a freshUnion brigade arrived also, supported the yielding forces and threwitself upon the enemy.
But Grant had not yet come. It seemed that in the beginning fortuneplayed against this man of destiny, throwing all her tricks in favorof his opponents. The single time that he was away the attack bad beenmade, and if he would win back a lost battle there was great need tohurry.
The Southern troops, exultant and full of fire and spirit, continuallyrolled back their adversaries. They wheeled more guns from the fort intoposition and opened heavily on the yielding foe. If they were beatenback at any time they always came on again, a restless wave, crestedwith fire and steel.
Dick's regiment continued to give ground slowly. It had no choice but todo so or be destroyed. It seemed to him now that he beheld the wreckof all things. Was this to be Bull Run over again? His throat and eyesburned from the smoke and powder, and his face was black with grime.His lips were like fire to the touch of each other. He staggered in thesmoke against some one and saw that it was Warner.
"Have we lost?" he cried. "Have we lost after doing so much?"
The lips of the Vermonter parted in a kind of savage grin.
"I won't say we've lost," he shouted in reply, "but I can't see anythingwe've won."
Then he lost Warner in the smoke and the regiment retreated yet further.It was impossible to preserve cohesion or keep a line formed. TheSoutherners never ceased to press upon them with overwhelming weight.Pillow, now decisive in action, continually accumulated new forcesupon the Northern right. Every position that McClernand had held at theopening of the battle was now taken, and the Confederate general wasplanning to surround and destroy the whole Union army. Already hewas sending messengers to the telegraph with news for Johnston of hiscomplete victory.
But the last straw had not yet been laid upon the camel's back.McClernand was beaten, but the hardy men of Kentucky, East Tennessee andthe northwest still offered desperate resistance. Conspicuous among thedefenders was the regiment of young pioneers from Nebraska, hunters,Indian fighters, boys of twenty or less, who had suffered already everyform of hardship. They stood undaunted amid the showers of bullets andshells and cried to the others to stand with them.
Yet the condition of the Union army steadily grew worse. Dick himself,in all the smoke and shouting and confusion, could see it. The regimentsthat formed the core of resistance were being pared down continually.There was a steady dribble of fugitives to the rear, and those whofought felt themselves going back always, like one who slips on ice.
The sun, far up the heavens, now poured down beams upon the vast cloudof smoke and vapor in which the two armies fought. The few people leftin Dover, red hot for the South, cheered madly as they saw their enemydriven further and further away.
Grant, the man of destiny, ill clad and insignificant in appearance, nowcame upon the field and saw his beaten army. But the bulldog in him shutdown its teeth and resolved to replace defeat with victory. His greatestqualities, strength and courage in the face of disaster, were now aboutto shine forth. His countenance showed no alarm. He rode among the mencheering them to renewed efforts. He strengthened the weak places in theline that his keen eyes saw. He infused a new spirit into the army.His own iron temper took possession of the troops, and that core ofresistance, desperate when he came, suddenly hardened and enlarged.
Dick felt the change. It was of the mind, but it was like a cool breathupon the face. It was as if the winds had begun to blow courage. A greatshout rolled along the Northern line.
"Grant has come!" exclaimed Pennington, who was bleeding from a slightwound in the shoulder, but who was unconscious of it. "And we've quitretreating!"
The Nebraska youth had divined the truth. Just when a complete Southernvictory seemed to be certain the reversal of fortune came. The coolness,the courage, and the comprehensive eye of Grant restored the battlefor the North. The Southern reserves had not charged with the fire andspirit expected, and, met with a shattering fire by the Indiana troops,they fell back. Grant saw the opportunity, and massing every availableregiment, he hurled it upon Pillow and the Southern center.
Dick felt the wild thrill of exultation as they went forward instead ofgoing back, as they had done for so many hours. Just in front of him wasColonel Winchester, waving aloft a sword, the blade of which had beenbroken in two by a bullet, and calling to his men to come on. Warner andPennington, grimed with smoke and mud and stained here and there withblood, were near also, shouting wildly.
The smoke split asunder for a moment, and Dick saw the long line ofcharging troops. It seemed to be a new army now, infused with freshspirit and courage, and every pulse in the boy's body began to beatheavily with the hope of victory. The smoke closed in again and thencame the shock.
Exhausted by their long efforts which had brought victory so near theSouthern troops gave way. Their whole center was driven in, and theylost foot by foot the ground that they had gained with so much courageand blood. Grant saw his success and he pressed more troops uponhis weakening enemy. The batteries were pushed forward and raked theshattered Southern lines.
Pillow, who had led the attack instead of Floyd, seeing his fortunespass so suddenly from the zenith to the nadir, gathered his retreatingarmy upon a hill in front of their intrenchments, but he was notpermitted to rest there. A fresh Northern brigade, a reserve, hadjust arrived upon the field. Joining it to the forces of Lew Wallace,afterwards famous as a novelist, Grant hurled the entire division uponPillow's weakened and discouraged army.
Winchester's regiment joined in the attack. Dick felt himself sweptalong as if by a torrent. His courage and the courage of those aroundhim was all the greater now, because hope, sanguine hope, had suddenlyshot up from the very depths of despair. Their ranks had been thinnedterribly, but they forgot it for the time and rushed upon their enemy.
The battle had rolled back and forth for hours. Noon had come andpassed. The troops of Pillow had been fighting without ceasing forsix hours, and they could not withstand the new attack made with suchtremendous spirit and energy. They fought with desperation, but theywere compelled at last to yield the field and retreat within theirworks. Their right and left suffered the same fate. The wholeConfederate attack was repulsed. Bull Run was indeed reversed. There theSouth snatched victory from defeat and here the North came back with alike triumph.
The Guns of Shiloh: A Story of the Great Western Campaign Page 13