The Rock of Chickamauga: A Story of the Western Crisis
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CHAPTER XIV. THE ROCK OF CHICKAMAUGA
Dick, after eating the cold food which was served to him, sank into astate which was neither sleep nor stupor. It was a mystic region betweenthe conscious and the unconscious, in which all things were out ofproportion, and some abnormal.
He saw before him a vast stretch of dead blackness which he knewnevertheless was peopled by armed hosts ready to spring upon them atdawn. The darkness and silence were more oppressive than sound andlight, even made by foes, would have been. It numbed him to think therewas so little of stirring life, where nearly two hundred thousand menhad fought.
Then a voice arose that made him shiver. But it was only the cold windfrom the mountains whistling a dirge. Nevertheless it seemed human toDick. It was at once a lament and a rebuke. He edged over a little andtouched Warner.
"Is that you, Dick?" asked the Vermonter.
"What's left of me. I've one or two wounds, mere scratches, George, butI feel all pumped out. I'm like one of those empty wine-skins that youread about, empty, all dried up, and ready to be thrown away."
"Something of the same feeling myself, Dick. I'm empty and dried up,too, but I'm not ready to be thrown away. Nor are you. We'll fill up inthe night. Our hearts will pump all our veins full of blood again,and we'll be ready to go out in the morning, and try once more to getkilled."
"I don't see how you and Pennington and I, all three of us, came out ofit alive to-day."
"That question is bothering me, too, Dick. A million bullets were firedat each of us, not to count thousands of pieces of shell, shrapnel,canister, grape, and slashes of swords. Take any ratio of percentageyou please and something should have got us. According to every rule ofalgebra, not more than one of us three should be alive now. Yet here weare."
"Maybe your algebra is wrong?"
"Impossible. Algebra is the most exact of all sciences. It does notadmit of error. Both by algebra and by the immutable law of averages atleast two of us are dead."
"But we don't know which two."
"That's true. Nevertheless it's certain that those two, whoever they maybe, are here on borrowed time. What do your wounds amount to, Dick?"
"Nothing, I had forgotten 'em. I've lost a little blood, but what doesit amount to on a day like this, when blood is shed in rivers?"
"That's true. My own skin has been broken, but just barely, four timesby bullets. I've a notion that those bullets were coming straight forsome vital part of me, but seeing who it was, and knowing that such anoble character ought not to be slain, they turned aside as quickly aspossible, but not so quickly that they could avoid grazing my skin."
Dick and Pennington laughed. Warner's fooling amused them and relievedthe painful tension of their minds.
"But, George," said Pennington, "suppose one of the bullets failed toturn aside and killed you. What could we say then for you?"
"That it was a silly, ignorant bullet not knowing whence it came, orwhere it was going. Ah, there's light in the darkness! Look across thehill and see that shining flame!"
Dick rose and then the three walked to the brow of the hill, whereColonel Winchester stood, using his glasses as well as he could in thedusk.
"It's the pine forest on fire in places," he said. "The shells did it,and it's been burning for some time, spreading until it has now comeinto our own sight."
But they were detached fires, and they did not fuse into a general massat any time. Clumps of trees burnt steadily like vast torches and sentup high flames. Bands of men from either side worked silently, removingas many of the wounded as they could. It was a spontaneous movement, ashappened so often in this war, and Dick and his comrades took a part init.
North and South met in friendliness in the darkness or by the light ofthe burning pines, and talked freely as they lifted up their wounded.Dick asked often about Colonel Kenton, meeting at last some Kentuckians,who told him that the colonel had gone through the day without a wound,and was with Buckner. Then Dick asked if any Mississippians were alongthe line.
"What do you want with 'em?" asked a long, lank man with a biliousyellow face.
"I've got a friend among 'em. Woodville is his name, and he's about myown age."
"I've heard of the Woodvilles. Big an' rich family in Missip. 'Roun'Vicksburg and Jackson mostly. I'm from the Yazoo valley myself, an' ifI hear of the young fellow I'll send him down this way. But I can't stayout long, 'cause it'll soon be time for me to have my chill. Comes everyother night reg'lar. But I'll be all right for battle to-morrow, whenwe lick you Yankees out of the other boot, having licked you out of oneto-day."
"All right, old Yazoo," laughed Dick. "Go on and have your chill, but ifyou see Woodville tell him Mason is waiting down here by the wood."
"I'll shorely do it, if the chill don't git me fust," said the yellowMississippian as he strolled away, and Dick knew that he would keep hisword.
The lad lingered at the spot where he had met the man, hoping that bysome lucky chance Woodville might come, and fortune gave him his wish. Aslender figure emerged from the dark, and a voice called softly:
"Is that you, Mason?"
"Nobody else," replied Dick gladly, stepping forward and offering hishand, which young Woodville shook warmly. "I was hoping that I mightmeet you, and I see, too, that you can't be hurt much, if at all."
"I haven't been touched. It's my lucky day, I suppose."
"Where's your uncle? I hope he's in some safe place, recovering from hiswound."
Victor Woodville laughed softly.
"Uncle Charles is recovering from his wound perhaps faster than youhope," he said, "but he's not in a safe place. Far from it."
"I don't understand."
"His wound is so much better that he can walk, though with a hop, andhe's right here in the thick of this battle, leading his own Mississippiregiment. His horse was killed under him early this morning, and he'sfought all day on foot, swearing in the strange and melodious fashionthat you know. It's hop! swear! hop! swear! in beautiful alternation!"
"Good old colonel!"
"That's what he is, and he's also one of the bravest men that everlived, if he is my uncle. His regiment did prodigies to-day and they'lldo greater prodigies to-morrow. The Woodvilles are well representedhere. My father is present, leading his regiment, and there are a dozenWoodville cousins of mine whom you've never met."
"And I hope I won't meet 'em on this field. What about your aunt?"
"She's well, and in a safe place."
"I'm glad of that. Now, tell me, Victor, how did you happen to bewith Slade on that raid? Of course it's no business of mine, but I wassurprised."
"I don't mind answering. I suppose it was a taste for adventure, and adesire to serve our cause. After I got up the bank and climbed into thebushes, I looked back, and I think, Mason, that you may have saved mefrom a bullet. I don't know, but I think so."
Dick said nothing, but despite the dusk Woodville read the truth in hiseyes.
"I shan't forget," said the young Mississippian as he moved away.
Dick turned back to his own group. They had noticed him talking tothe lad in gray, but they paid no attention, nor thought it anythingunusual. It was common enough in the great battles of the American civilwar, most of which lasted more than one day, for the opposing soldiersto become friendly in the nights between.
"I think, sir," said Sergeant Whitley, "that we won't be able to get anymore of our wounded to-night. Now, pardon me for saying it, Lieutenant,but we ought to have some rest, because when day comes there's goingto be the most awful attack you ever saw. Some of our spies say thatLongstreet and the last of the Virginians did not come until night ornearly night and that Longstreet himself will lead the attack on us."
"Do you think, Sergeant, that it will be made first on our own corps?"
"I don't know, Mr. Mason. We've stood firmest, and them rebel generalsare no fools. They'll crash in where we've shown the most weakness."
The sergeant walked on, carrying the corner of a litt
er. Warner, who hadstood by, whispered to Dick:
"There goes a general, but he'll never have the title. He's got ageneral's head on his shoulders, and he thinks and talks like a general,but he hasn't any education, and men with much poorer brains go pasthim. Let it be a lesson to you, Dick, my son. After this war, go toschool, and learn something."
"Good advice, George, and I'll take it," laughed Dick. "But he isn't sobadly off. I wonder if those fires in the pine forest are going to burnall night?"
"Several of 'em will. The big one on our left will be blazing whenday comes, and I'm glad of it since no wounded are now in its way. Thenight's cold. That's a sharp and searching wind, and the sight of flamesmakes one feel warm even if they are far away."
It would not be long until day now, and the axes ceased to ring in theforest. A long and formidable line of abattis had been made, but the menwere compelled to seek some rest. Despite the cold they suffered from aburning thirst, and they could reach no water, not even the redstream of the Chickamauga. Dick suffered like the rest, but he wasphilosophical.
"I fancy that after sunrise we won't have time to think about water," hesaid.
But Dick was not destined to sleep. He lay down for a while, and he sawhundreds of others around him lying motionless as if dead. Warner andPennington were among them, but he could not close his own eyes. Hisbrain was still hot and excited, and to calm himself if possible hewalked along the slope until he saw a faint light in the valley behindit. A tall figure, which he recognized as that of Colonel Winchester,was going toward the light.
Dick, being on such good terms with his colonel, would have followedhim, but when he came to the edge of the glade he drew back. GeneralThomas was sitting on the huge, upthrust root of an oak, and he waswriting dispatches by the light of a flickering candle held by an aide.Officers of high rank, one of whom Dick recognized as the young general,Garfield, stood around him. Colonel Winchester joined the group, andstood waiting in silence to receive orders, too, Dick supposed.
The lad withdrew hastily, but driven by an overmastering curiosity,and knowing that he was doing no harm, he turned back and watched for alittle space beside a bush.
The flame of the candle wavered under the wind, and sometimes the lightshone full upon the face of Thomas. It was the same face that Dick hadfirst beheld when he carried the dispatches to him in Kentucky. He wascalm, inscrutable at this, the most desperate crisis the Union causeever knew in the west. Dick could not see that his hand trembled aparticle as he wrote, although lieutenant and general alike knew thatthey would soon be attacked by a superior force, flushed with all thehigh enthusiasm of victory. And lieutenant and general alike also knewthat their supreme commander, Rosecrans, was no genius like Lee orJackson, who could set numbers at naught, and choose time and place tosuit themselves. Only stubborn courage to fight and die could avail.
But Dick drew courage from the strong, thick figure sitting there soimpassively and apparently impervious to alarm. When he quit writingand began to give verbal orders, he spoke in even tones, in which noone could detect a trace of excitement. When the name, "The Rock ofChickamauga," became general, Dick remembered that night and knew howwell it was deserved.
Thomas gave his last order and his generals went to their commands. Dickslipped back to his regiment, and lay down, but again could not sleep.
He waited in painful anxiety for the day. He had never before beenin such a highly nervous state, not at Shiloh, nor Stone River, noranywhere else. In those battles the chances were with the Union, buthere they were against it. He recognized that once more, save forThomas, the North had been outgeneraled. The army of Rosecrans hadmarched from Chattanooga directly upon the positions chosen by Bragg,where he was awaiting them with superior numbers. And the Confederategovernment in the East had been quick enough to seize the opportunityand quick enough to send the stalwart fighter, Longstreet, and his corpsto help close down the trap.
He wondered with many a painful throbbing of the heart what the dawnwould bring, and, unable to keep still any longer, he rose and went tothe brow of the low hill, behind which they lay. Colonel Winchester wasthere walking through the scrub and trying to pick out something inthe opposing forest with his glasses. The cold wind still blew fromthe mountains, and there were three high but distant torches, where theclumps of pines still burned.
"Restless, Dick?" said the Colonel. "Well, so am I."
"We have cause to be so, sir."
"So we have, my lad. We thought the danger to the Union had passed withVicksburg and Gettysburg, but the day so soon to come may shatter allour hopes. They must have a hundred thousand men out there, and they'vechosen time and place. What's more, they've succeeded so far. I don'thesitate to talk to you in this way, Dick, but you mustn't repeat what Isay."
"I shouldn't dream of doing so, sir."
"I know you would not, but General Thomas apprehends a tremendous andterrible attack. Whatever happens, we have not long to wait for it. Ithink I feel the touch of the dawn in the wind."
"It's coming, sir. I can see a faint tinge of gray in that cleft betweenthe hills toward the east."
"You have a good eye, Dick. I see it now, too. It's growing andturning to the color of silver. But I think we'll have time to get ourbreakfasts. General Thomas does not believe the first attack will bemade upon our wing."
The wind was freshening, as if it brought the dawn upon its edge.The night had been uncommonly cold for the time of the year in thatlatitude, and there was no sun yet to give warmth. But the men of Thomaswere being awakened, and, as no fires were allowed, cold food was servedto them.
"What's happened, Dick, while I was asleep?" asked Pennington.
"Nothing. The two armies are ready, and I think to-day will decide it."
"I hope so. Two days are enough for any battle."
Pennington's tone was jocular, but his words were not. His face wasgrave as he regarded the opposing forest. He had the feeling of youththat others might be killed, but not he. Nevertheless he was alreadymourning many a good comrade who would be lost before the night cameagain.
"There are the wasps!" said Warner, bending a listening ear. "You canalways hear them as they begin to sting. I wonder if skirmishers eversleep?"
The shots were on the right, but they came from points far away. Infront of them the forest and hills were silent.
"It's just as General Thomas thought," said Dick. "The main volume oftheir attack will be on our right and center. They know that Thomasstands here and that he's a mighty rock, hard to move. They expect toshatter all the rest of the line, and then whirl and annihilate us."
"Let 'em come!" exclaimed Warner, with heightening color. "Who'safraid?"
The dawn was spreading. The heavy mists that hung over the Chickamaugafloated away. All the east was silver, and the darkness rolled back likea blanket. The west became silver in its turn, and the sun burned redfire in the east. The wind still blew fresh and cool off the mountains.The faint sound of trumpets came from far points on the Southern line.The crackling fire of the skirmishers increased.
"It's a wait for us," said Colonel Winchester, standing amid hisyouthful staff. "I can see them advancing in great columns against ourright and center. Now their artillery opens!"
Dick put up his glasses and he, too, saw the mighty Southern armyadvancing. Their guns were already clearing the way for the advance,and the valleys echoed with the great concussion. Longstreet and Hill,anxious to show what the veterans of the East could do, were pouringthem forward alive with all the fire and courage that had distinguishedthem in the Army of Northern Virginia.
The battle swelled fast. It seemed to the waiting veterans of Thomasthat it had burst forth suddenly like a volcano. They saw the vastclouds of smoke gather again off there where their comrades stood, and,knowing the immense weight about to be hurled upon them, they feared forthose men who had fought so often by their side.
Yet Thomas had been confident that the first attack would be made uponhis own part of the lin
e, that Bragg with an overwhelming force wouldseek to roll up his left. Nor had he reckoned wrong. The lingering ofthe bishop-general, Polk, over a late breakfast saved him from the firstshock, and upset the plans of the Southern commander, who had given himstrict orders to advance.
Dawn was long past, and to Bragg's great astonishment Polk had notmoved. It seems incredible that the fate of great events can turn uponsuch trifles, and yet one wonders what would have happened had not Polkeaten breakfast so late the morning of the second day of Chickamauga.But when he did advance he attacked with the energy and vigor ofthose great churchmen of the Middle Ages, who were at once princes andwarriors, leading their hosts to battle.
Portions of the men of Thomas were now coming into the combat, but theWinchesters were not yet engaged. They were lying down just behind thecrest of their low hill and many murmurs were running through the ranks.It was the hardest of all things to wait, while shells now and thenstruck among them. They saw to their right the vast volume of fire andsmoke, while the roaring of the cannon and rifles was like the continuedsweep of a storm.
The youthful soldier may be nervous and excited, or he may be calm. Thiswas one of Dick's calm moments, and, while he watched and listened andtried to measure all that he saw and heard, he noted that the crash ofthe battle was moving slowly backward. He knew then that the Southernadvance was succeeding, succeeding so far at least. He was quite surenow that the attack upon Thomas would be made soon and that it wouldcome with the greatest violence.
He rose and rejoined Colonel Winchester again, and the two looked withawe at the gigantic combat, raging in a vast canopy of smoke, rentcontinuously by flashes of fire. Dick observed that the colonel wasdepressed and he knew the reason.
"Our men are being driven back," he said.
"So they are," said the colonel, "and I fear that there is confusionamong them, too."
"But we'll hold fast here as we did yesterday!"
"I hope so. Yes, I know so, Dick. I've seen General Thomas twice thismorning, and I know that this corps will never be routed. He's made uphis mind to hold on or die. He's the Rock of Chickamauga."
It was a name that Dick was to hear often afterward, and he repeatedunder his breath: "The Rock of Chickamauga! The Rock of Chickamauga!" Itrolled resoundingly off the tongue, and he liked it.
Then came a beat of hoofs and a cavalry regiment galloped into openground beside them. It was Colonel Hertford's, numbering about threehundred men, some of whom were wounded. Their leader was excited, and,springing to the ground, he ran to Colonel Winchester. The two talked inquick, short sentences.
"Colonel," exclaimed Hertford, "we've just had a sharp brush with thatdemon, Forrest, and we've left some good men back there. But I've comeboth to help and to warn you. We're being driven back everywhere else,and now they're gathering an immense mass of troops for a giganticattack on Thomas!"
Dick heard and his breath came fast. Colonel Hertford would bringno false news, and he could see with his own eyes that the storm wascurving toward them. The two men hurried to Thomas, but in a few minutesreturned. Colonel Hertford sprang into the saddle and formed his cavalryon the flank as a screen against the dreaded sweep of Forrest.
There was a lull for a moment in the tremendous uproar, and, ColonelWinchester walking back and forth before his men, spoke to them briefly.He was erect, pale and handsome, and his words came without a quiver.Dick had never admired him more.
"Men," he said, "you have never been beaten in battle, but your greatesttest is now at hand. Within a few minutes you will be attacked by aforce outnumbering you more than two to one. But these are the odds welove. We would not have them less. I tell you, speaking as a man to menwho understand and fear not, that the fate of the day may rest with you.Many gallant comrades of ours have gone already to the far shore, andif we must go, too, to-day, let our journey be not less gallant thantheirs. We can die but once, and if we must die, let us die here wherewe can serve our country most."
His manner was quiet, but his words were thrilling, and the men of theregiment, springing to their feet, uttered a deep, full-throated cheer.Then sinking down again at the motion of his hand, they turned theirfaces to the enemy. The time had come.
The vast Southern front rushed from the wood, and the gray horsemen ofForrest, careless of death, swept down. It was a terrifying sight,that army coming on amid the thunder and lightning of battle, tens ofthousands of rifle muzzles, tens of thousands of fierce brown facesshowing through the smoke, and the tremendous battle yell of the Southswelling over everything.
Dick felt a quiver, and then his body stiffened, as if it were about toreceive a physical shock. The whole regiment fired as one man, and a gapappeared in the charging Southern column. Hertford and his horsecharged upon the hostile cavalry, and all the brigades of Thomas met theSouthern attack with a fire so heavy and deadly that the army of Braggreeled back.
Then ensued the most tremendous scene through which Dick had yet passed.The Southern army came again. Bragg, Breckinridge, Buckner, Longstreet,Hill, Cleburne and the others urged on the attacks. They had beenvictors everywhere else and they knew that they must drive back Thomasor the triumph would not be complete. They struck and spared not, leastof all their own men. They poured them, Kentuckians, Tennesseeans,Georgians, Mississippians and all the rest upon Thomas without regard tolife.
Kentuckians on the opposing sides met once again face to face. Dick didnot know it then, but a regiment drawn from neighboring counties chargedthe Winchesters thrice and left their dead almost at his feet. He hadlittle time to notice or measure anything amid the awful din and thecontinued shock of battle in which thousands of men were falling.
The clouds of smoke enveloped them at times, and at other times floatedaway. New clumps of pines, set on fire by the shells, burned brightlylike torches, lighting the way to death. Smoke, thick with the odors ofburned gunpowder clogged eye, nose and throat. Dick and the lads aroundhim gasped for breath, but they fired so fast into the dense Southernmasses that their rifle barrels grew hot to the touch.
The South was making her supreme effort. Her western sons wereperforming prodigies of valor, and Longstreet and the Virginians werefighting with all the courage that had distinguished them in the East.
But however violent the charge, and however tremendous the fire ofcannon and rifles, the Rock of Chickamauga merely sank deeper in thesoil, and nothing could drive him from his base. The Union dead heapedup, regiments were shattered by the Southern fire, but Thomas, calm,and, inspiring courage as on the day before, passed here and there,strengthening the weak points, and sending many great guns to the crestof Missionary Ridge, whence they swept the front of the enemy with adevastating fire.
The hail of death from the heights enabled the infantry and cavalrybelow to gather breath and strength for the new attacks of the enemy.They knew, too, that their cannon were now giving them more help thanbefore, and defiant cheers swept along the line in answer to the mightybattle cry of the South. The Rock of Chickamauga had not moved a foot.
Dick caught gleams of the sun through the smoky canopy, but he did notknow how far the day had advanced. He seemed to have been in battlemany hours, but in such moments one had little knowledge of time. He wasaware that the battle had been lost in the center and on the right, buthe had sublime faith in Thomas. The left would stand, and while it stoodthe South could win but a barren triumph.
The peril was imminent and deadly. A strong Southern force, having cutthrough another portion of the line, was endeavoring to take Thomason the flank. Rosecrans, seeing the danger and almost in despair, sentThomas orders which his stern lieutenant fortunately could not obey. Therock did not move.
Bragg, an able leader, increased the attack upon Thomas. His generalsgathered around him, and seconded his efforts. Their view was betterthan that of the Union commanders, and they knew it was vital to themto move the rock from their path. Brigades, already victorious on otherparts of the field, came up, and were hurled, shouting their triumphant
battle cry against Thomas, only to be hurled back again.
The resolution of the defenders increased with their success. A sort offever seized upon them all. Death had become a little thing, or it wasforgotten. The blood in their veins was fire, and, transported out ofthemselves, they rained shells and bullets upon men whom in their calmmoments they did not hate at all.
Dick's regiment had suffered with the rest, but Pennington and Warnerand the colonel were alive, and he caught a few glimpses of Hertfordwith his gallant horsemen beating back every attack upon their flank.But nothing stood out with sharp precision. The whole was a huge turmoilof fire, smoke, confusion and death. The weight upon them seemed atlast to become overwhelming. In spite of courage the most heroic, anddreadful losses, the right of Thomas was driven back, his center wascompelled to wheel about, but his left where the Winchester regimentstood with others held on. Thomas himself was there among them, stillcool and impassive in face of threatened ruin.
About twenty thousand men were around Thomas, and they alone stoodbetween the Union army and destruction. At all other points it had beennot only defeated, but routed. Vast masses of fugitives were fleeingtoward Chattanooga. Rosecrans himself withdrew, and, now wholly indespair, telegraphed at four o'clock in the afternoon to Washington: "Myarmy has been whipped and routed."
But Thomas was neither routed nor whipped. Many of the brave generalselsewhere refused to flee with the troops, but gathering as manysoldiers as possible joined Thomas. Among them was young Sheridan,destined to so great a fame, who brought almost all his own division andstood beside the Rock of Chickamauga, refusing to yield any further tothe terrible pressure.
The line of Thomas' army was now almost a semicircle. Polk was leadingviolent attacks upon his left and center. Longstreet, used to victory,was upon his right and behind him, and the veterans from the Army ofNorthern Virginia had never fought better.
Dick saw the enemy all around him, and he began to lose hope. How couldthey stand against such numbers? And if they tried to retreat there wasLongstreet to cut off the way. He bumped against Sergeant Whitley in thesmoke and gasped out:
"We're done for, Sergeant! We're done for!"
"No, we're not!" shouted the sergeant, firing into the advancing mass."We'll beat 'em back. They can't run over us!"
The sergeant, usually so cool, was a little mad. He was wounded in thehead, and the blood had run down over his face, dyeing it scarlet. Hisbrain was hot as with fire, and he hurled epithets at the enemy. Hislife on the plains came back to him, and, for the time, he was like ahurt Sioux chief who defies his foes. He called them names. He daredthem to come on. He mocked them. He told them how they had attackedin vain all day long. He counted the number of their repulses and thenexaggerated them. He reminded them it was yet a long time until dark,and asked them why they hesitated, why they did not come forward andmeet the death that was ready for them.
Dick gazed at him in astonishment. He heard many of his words throughthe roar of the guns, and he saw his ensanguined face, through whichhis eyes burned like two red-hot coals. Was this the quiet and kindlySergeant Whitley whom he had known so long? No, it was a raging tiger.Still waters run deep, and, enveloped, at last, with the fury of battlethe sergeant welcomed wounds, death or anything else it might bring.
He shouted and fired his rifle again. Then he fell like a log. Dickrushed to him at once, but he saw that he had only fainted from loss ofblood. He bound up the sergeant's head as best he could, and, easing himagainst a bank, returned to the battle front.
A shout suddenly arose. Officers had seen through their glasses a columnof dust rising far behind them. It was so vast that it could only bemade by a great body of marching troops. But who were the men that weremaking it? In all the frightful din and excitement of the battle thequestion ran through the army of Thomas. If fresh enemies were comingupon their rear they were lost! If friends there was yet hope!
But they could not watch the tower of dust long. The enemy in front gavethem no chance. Polk was still beating upon them, and Longstreet,having seized a ridge, was pouring an increased fire from his advancedposition.
"If that cloud of dust encloses gray uniforms we're lost!" shoutedWarner in Dick's ear.
"But it mustn't enclose 'em," Dick shouted back. "Fate wouldn't play ussuch an awful trick! We can't lose, after having done and suffered somuch!"
Fate would not say which. They could not send men to see, but as theyfought they watched the cloud coming nearer and nearer, and Dick,whose lips had been moving for some time, realized suddenly that he waspraying. "O God, save us! save us!" he was saying over and over. "Sendthe help to us who need it so sorely. Make us strong, O God, to meet ourenemies!"
He and all his comrades wore masks of dust and burned gunpowder, oftenstained with scarlet. Their clothing was torn by bullets and reddenedby dripping wounds. When they shouted to one another their voices camestrained and husky from painful throats. Half the time they were blindedby the smoke and blaze of the firing. The crash did not seem so loud tothem now, because they were partly deafened for the time by a cannonadeof such violence and length.
Dick looked back once more at the great cloud of dust which was now muchnearer, but there was nothing yet to indicate what it bore within, thebayonets of the North or those of the South. His anxiety became almostintolerable.
Thomas himself stood at that moment entirely alone in a clump of treeson the elevation called Horseshoe Ridge, watching the battle, seeing theenemy in overpowering numbers on both his flanks and even in hisrear. Apparently everything was lost. Taciturn, he never described hisfeelings then, but in his soul he must have admired the magnificentcourage with which his troops stood around him, and repelled thedesperate assaults of a foe resolved to win. Although his facegrew grimmer and his teeth set hard, he, too, must have watched theapproaching cloud of dust with the most terrible anxiety. If it boreenemies in its bosom, then in very truth everything would be lost.
Down a road some miles from the battlefield a force of eight thousandmen had been left as a reserve for one of the armies. They had longheard the terrific cannonade which was sending shattering echoes throughthe mountains, and both their chief and his second in command were eagerto rush to the titanic combat. They could not obtain orders from theircommander, but, at last, they marched swiftly to the field, all theeight thousand on fire with zeal to do their part.
It was the eight thousand who were making the great cloud of dust,and, as they came nearer and nearer, the suspense of Thomas' shatteredbrigades grew more terrible. Dick, reckless of shell and bullets, triedto pierce the cloud with his eyes. He caught a glimpse of a flag anduttered a wild shout of joy. It was the stars and stripes. The eightthousand were eight thousand of the North! He danced up and down on thestump, and shouted at the top of his voice:
"They're our own men! Help is here! Help is here!"
A vast shout of relief rose from Thomas' army as the eight thousandstill coming swiftly joined them. Granger was their leader, butSteedman, his lieutenant, galloped at once to Thomas, who still stood inthe clump of trees, and asked him what he wanted him to do. The general,calm and taciturn as ever, pointed toward a long hill that flamed withthe enemy's guns, and said three words:
"Take that ridge!"
Steedman galloped back and the eight thousand charged at once. Thebattle in front sank a little, as if the others wished to watch the newcombat. Dick had been dragged down from the stump by Warner, but the twostood erect with Pennington, their eyes turned toward the ridge. ColonelWinchester was near them, his attention fixed upon the same place.
The eight thousand firing their rifles and supported by artillerycharged at a great pace. The whole ridge blazed with fire, and thedead and wounded went down in sheaves. But Dick could not see that theyfaltered. Hoarse shouts came again from his dry and blackened lips:
"They will take it! they will take it! Look how they face the guns!" hewas crying.
"So they will!" said Warner. "See what a splendid charge! Now
they'rehidden! What a column of smoke! It floats aside, and, look, our men arestill going on! Nothing can stop them! They must have lost thousands,but they reach the slope, and as sure as there's a sun in the heavensthey're going up it!"
That tremendous cheer burst again from the beleaguered Union army.Granger and Steedman, with their fresh troops, were rushing up theslopes of the formidable ridge, and though three thousand of the eightthousand fell, they took it, hurling back the advancing columns of theSouth, and securing the rear of Thomas.
Then the Winchester men and others about them went wild with joy. Theyleaped, they danced, they sang, until they were commanded to make readyfor a new attack. Rosecrans in Chattanooga, with the most of his armythere also in wild confusion, had sent word to Thomas to retire, towhich Thomas had replied tersely: "It will ruin the army to withdraw itnow; this position must be held till night."
And he made good his resolve. The Southern masses attacked once morewith frightful violence, and once more Thomas withstood them. The fieldwas now darkening in the twilight, and, having saved the Union armyfrom rout and wreck, Thomas, impervious to attack, fell back slowly toChattanooga.
The greatest battle of the West, one of the most desperate ever fought,came to a close. Thirty-five thousand men, killed or wounded, had fallenupon the field. The South had won a great but barren victory. She hadnot been able to reap the fruits of so much skill and courage, becauseThomas and his men, like the Spartans at Thermopylae, had stood in theway. Never had a man more thoroughly earned the title of honor that hebore throughout the rest of his life, "The Rock of Chickamauga."
Chickamauga, though, was a sinister word to the North. Gettysburg andVicksburg had stemmed the high tide of the Confederacy, and many hadthought the end in sight. But the news from "The River of Death" toldthem that the road to crowning success was still long and terrible.
CHAPTER XV. BESIDE THE BROOK
When the slow retreat began Dick looked for the sergeant. But a stalwartfigure, a red bandage around the head, rose up and confronted him. Itwas Sergeant Whitley himself, a little unsteady yet on his feet, butsoon to be as good as ever.
"Thank you for looking for me, Mr. Mason," he said, "but I came to, sometime ago. I guess the bullet found my skull too hard, 'cause it just ran'roun' it, and came out on the other side. I won't even be scarred, asmy hair covers up the place."
"Can you walk all right?" asked Dick, overjoyed to find the sergeant wasnot hurt badly.
"Of course I can, Mr. Mason, an' I'm proud to have been with GeneralThomas in such a battle. I didn't think human bein's could do what ourmen have done."
"Nor did I. It was impossible, but we've done it all the same."
Colonel Winchester rejoiced no less than the lads over the sergeant'sescape. All the officers of the regiment liked him, and they had aninfinite respect for his wisdom, particularly when danger was runninghigh. They were glad for his own sake that he was alive, and they wereglad to have him with them as they retreated into Chattanooga, becausethe night still had its perils.
The moon, though clouded, was out as they withdrew slowly. On theirflanks there was still firing, as strong detachments skirmished with oneanother, but the Winchester men as yet paid little attention to it. Theysaid grimly to one another that two days in the infernal regions wereenough for one time. They looked back at the vast battlefield and theclumps of pines burning now like funeral torches, and shuddered.
The retreat of Thomas was harried incessantly. Longstreet and Forrestwere eager to push the attack that night and the next day and make thevictory complete. They and men of less rank dreamed of a triumph whichshould restore the fortunes of the Confederacy to the full, but Braggwas cautious. He did not wish to incur the uttermost risk, and the rollof his vast losses might well give him pause also.
Nevertheless Southern infantry and cavalry hung on the flanks and rearof the withdrawing Union force. The cloudy moon gave sufficient lightfor the sharpshooters, whose rifles flashed continuously. The lighterfield guns moved from the forests and bushes, and the troops of Thomaswere compelled to turn again and again to fight them off.
The Winchester regiment was on the extreme flank, where the men wereexposed to the fiercest attacks, but fortunately the thickets and hillsgave them much shelter. At times they lay down and returned the fireof the enemy until they beat him off. Then they would rise and march onagain.
All the officers had lost their horses, and Colonel Winchester strodeat the head of his men. Just behind were Dick, Pennington and some othermembers of his staff. The rest had fallen. Further back was SergeantWhitley, his head in a red bandage, but all his faculties returned.In this dire emergency he was taking upon himself the duties of acommissioned officer, and there was none to disobey him. Once more wasthe wise veteran showing himself a very bulwark of strength.
Despite the coolness of the night, they had all suffered on the secondday of the battle from a burning thirst. And now after their immenseexertions it grew fiercer than ever. Dick's throat and mouth wereparched, and he felt as if he were breathing fire. He felt that he musthave water or die. All the men around him were panting, and he knew theywere suffering the same torture.
"This country ought to be full of brooks and creeks," he said toPennington. "If I see water I mean to make a dash for it, Johnnies or noJohnnies. I'm perfectly willing to risk my life for a drink."
"So am I," said Warner, who overheard him, "and so are all who are leftin this regiment. If they see the flash of water nothing can hold themback, not even Bragg's whole army. How those skirmishers hang on to us!Whizz-z! there went their bullets right over our head!"
The Winchesters turned, delivered a heavy volley into a thicket, whencethe bullets had come, and marched on, looking eagerly now for water.They began to talk about it. They spoke of the cool brooks, "branches"they called them, that they had known at home, and they told how, whenthey found one, they would first drink of it, and then lie down in itsbed and let its water flow over them.
But Dick's thirst could not wholly take his mind from the tremendousscenes accompanying that sullen and defiant retreat. Hills and mountainswere in deepest gloom, save when the signal lights of the Southernarmies flashed back and forth. The clouded moon touched everythingnearer by with somber gray. The fire of cannon rolled through the forestand gorges with redoubled echoes.
A shout suddenly came from the head of the Winchester column.
"Water! Water!" they cried. A young boy had caught a glimpse of silverthrough some bushes, and he knew that it was made by the swift currentof a brook. In an instant the regiment broke into a run for the water.Colonel Winchester could not have stopped them if he had tried, and hedid not try. He knew how great was their need.
"We're off!" cried Pennington.
"I see it! The water!" shouted Dick.
"I do, too!" exclaimed Warner, "and it's the most beautiful water thatever flowed!"
But they stopped in their rush and dropped down in the thickets.Sergeant Whitley had given the warning shout, and fortunately most of avolley from a point about a hundred yards beyond the stream swept overtheir heads. A few men were wounded, and they not badly.
Dick crawled to the head of the column. The sergeant was already there,whispering to Colonel Winchester.
"They've taken to cover, too, sir," said the sergeant.
"How many do you suppose they are?" asked the colonel.
"Not more than we are, sir."
"They run a great risk when they attack us in this manner."
"Maybe, sir," said Dick, "they, too, were coming for the water."
Colonel Winchester looked at Sergeant Whitley.
"I'm of the opinion, sir," said the sergeant, "that Mr. Mason is right."
"I think so, too," said Colonel Winchester. "It's a pity that men shouldkill each other over a drink of water when there's enough for all. Hasany man a handkerchief?"
"Here, sir," said Warner; "it's ragged and not very clean, but I hope itwill do."
The Colonel ra
ised the handkerchief on the point of his sword and gavea hail. The bulk of the two armies had passed on, and now there wassilence in the woods as the two little forces confronted each otheracross the stream.
Dick saw a tall form in Confederate gray rise up from the bushes on theother side of the brook.
"Are you wanting to surrender?" the man called in a long, soft drawl.
"Not by any means. We want a drink of water, and we're just bound tohave it."
"You don't want it any more than we do, and you're not any more bound tohave it than we are."
The colonel hesitated a moment, and then, influenced by a generousimpulse, said:
"If you won't fire, we won't."
The tall, elderly Southerner, evidently a colonel, also said:
"It's a fair proposition, sir. My men have been working so hard the lasttwo days licking you Yanks that they're plum' burnt up with thirst."
"I don't admit the licking, although it's obvious that you've gainedthe advantage so far, but is it agreed that we shall have a truce for aquarter of an hour?"
"It is, sir; the truce of the water, and may we drink well! Come on,boys!"
Colonel Winchester gave a similar order to his men, and each side rosefrom the thickets, and made a rush for the brook. It was a beautifullittle stream, the most beautiful in the world just then to Dick and hisfriends. Clear and cold, the color of silver in the moonlight, it rusheddown from the mountains. On one side knelt the men in blue, and on theother the men in gray, and the pure water was like the elixir of heavento their parched and burning throats.
Dick drank long, and then as he raised his face from the stream he sawopposite him a tall, lean youth, evidently from the far South, Louisianaperhaps, a lad with a tanned face and a wide mouth stretched in afriendly grin.
"Tastes good, doesn't it, Yank?" he said.
"Yes, it does, Reb," replied Dick. "I felt that I was drying up and justcrumbling away like old dead wood. As soon as the gallon that I've drunkhas percolated thoroughly through my system I intend to hoist aboardanother gallon."
"I don't know what percolate means, but I reckon it has something todo with travelin' about through your system. I think I need a couple ofgallons myself. Say, will you give a fair answer to a fair question?"
"Yes, go ahead."
"Don't you Yanks feel powerful bad over the thrashing we've given you?"
"Not so bad. Besides I wouldn't call it a thrashing. It's just atemporary advantage. And you wait. We'll take it away from you."
"I don't know about that, but I can't argue with you now. I'm due for mysecond gallon."
"So am I."
Each bent down and drank again a long, life-giving draught from therushing stream. For a distance of a hundred yards or more heads black,brown and sometimes yellow were bent over the brook. Far off, bothto east and west, the cannon thundered in the darkness, but with thedrinkers it was a peaceful interlude of a quarter of an hour. Suchmoments often occurred in this war when the men on both sides were bloodbrethren.
Colonel Winchester stood up, and the grizzled Confederate colonel stoodup on the other side of the stream, facing him. Their hands rose in asimultaneous salute of respect.
"Sir," said Colonel Winchester, "I'm happy to have met you in thismanner."
"Sir," said the Southern colonel ornately, "we are happy to have drunkfrom the same stream with such brave foes, and now, sir, I propose aswe retire that neither regiment shall fire a shot within the next fiveminutes."
"Agreed," said Colonel Winchester, and then as the colonels gave thesignals the two regiments withdrew beyond their respective thickets.The truce of the water was over, but these foes did not meet again thatnight.
The regiment had left a great proportion of its numbers dead upon thefield. Half the others were wounded more or less, but the slightlywounded marched on with the unhurt. Many of them were now barelyconscious. They were either asleep upon their feet or in a daze.Nevertheless they soon rejoined the main command.
Dick, having his pride as an officer, sought to keep himself active andalert. He passed among the lads of his own age, and encouraged them. Hetold them how the older men were already speaking of the wonders theyhad done, and presently he saw Thomas himself riding along with theyoung general, Garfield, who had been with him throughout the afternoon.All the Winchester men saw their commander, and, worn as they were, theystopped and gave a mighty cheer. Thomas was moved. Under the cloudy moonDick saw him show emotion for the first time. He took off his hat.
"Gentlemen, comrades," he said, "we have lost the battle of Chickamauga,but if all our regiments fight as you fought to-day the war is won."
Another cheer, enthusiastic and spontaneous, burst from the regiment,and Thomas rode on. Dick had never heard him make another speech solong.
When they reached the little town of Chattanooga within its mountainsthey began to realize the full grandeur of their exploit. The remainderof the army of Rosecrans was almost a mob, and brave as he undoubtedlywas he was soon removed to another field, leaving Thomas in supremecommand until Grant should come.
Dick had no rest until the next night, when tents were set for thebattered remains of the Winchester regiment. He, Warner, Penningtonand three others were assigned to one of the larger tents. He had beenwithout sleep for two days and two nights, and the tremendous tensionthat had kept him up so long was relaxing fast. He felt that he mustsleep or die. Yet they talked together a little before they stretchedthemselves upon their blankets.
"Do you think Bragg will attack us in Chattanooga, Dick?" askedPennington.
"I don't. Our position here is too strong, and, as he was the assailant,his losses must be something awful. Moreover, the rivers are always oursand reinforcements will soon pour in to us. I think that General Thomassaved the Union. What have you to say, George?"
"Just about what you are saying, Dick. We've been beaten, but not enoughto suit the Johnnies. They have on their side present victory. We haveon ours present but not total defeat. You might say they have x, whilewe have x + y. Wait until I look into my algebra, and I can find furthermathematical and beautiful propositions proving my contention beyond theshadow of a doubt."
He took out his algebra and opened it. A bullet fell from the leavesinto his lap. Warner picked it up and examined it carefully. Then helooked at the book.
"It went half way through," he said in tones of genuine solemnity. "Ifit had gone all the way it would have pierced my heart and I could neverhave known how this war is going to end. It has saved my life, and Ishall always keep it over my heart until we go back home."
Dick was asleep the next minute, and they did not wake him for twelvehours. When he came from the tent he stood blinking in the sun, and atall lean youth hailed him with a joyous shout:
"Why, it's Mason--Mason of Kentucky!" exclaimed the lad, extending ahardened hand. "I'm glad you're alive. How are those friends of yours,Warner and Pennington?"
"Well, save for scratches, Ohio. They're about somewhere."
They shook hands again, hunted up the others, and celebrated theirescape from death.
Dick learned later that all the Woodvilles were still alive and thatColonel Kenton, although wounded, was recovering fast. Slade, withtroublesome raids, soon gave evidence of his own continued existence.
Then, as they expected, reinforcements poured in. Grant came, and Dickand his comrades took part in the fight at Missionary Ridge and thebattle "above the clouds" on Lookout Mountain. He witnessed greattriumphs and he had a share in them.
He saw Bragg's army broken up, and he rejoiced with the others when thenews came that Grant for his brilliant successes had been made commanderof all the armies of the Union, and would go east to match himselfagainst the mighty Lee. The Winchester regiment would go with himand Dick, Warner, Pennington and Sergeant Whitley, who was entirelyrecovered, talked of it gravely:
"We've been in the East before," said Pennington, "but we won't be underany doubting general now."
"I fancy it wi
ll be the death grapple," said Warner.
"And the continent will shake with it," said Dick.
The three, as if by the same impulse, turned and faced the distant East,where the shades were already gathering over the Wilderness.
Appendix: Transcription notes:
This etext was transcribed from a volume of the 14th printing.
The following modifications were applied while transcribing the printedbook to etext:
Chapter 1 Page 30, para 1, add missing close-quotes
Chapter 2 Page 39, para 1, add missing close-quotes Page 48, para 4, change "its" to "it's"
Chapter 3 Page 72, para 1, add missing close-quotes
Chapter 8 Page 174, para 2, add a badly-needed comma Page 182, para 3, change "replied Pennington" to "replied Warner" Page 185, para 5, add missing close-quotes
Chapter 10 Page 216, para 2, move a badly-misplaced comma Page 217, para 5, add a badly-needed comma
Chapter 12 Page 258, para 2, add missing open-quotes
Chapter 14 Page 297, para 1, fixed typo "Mississipians"
Chapter 15 Page 320, para 2, remove an extra comma
Limitations imposed by converting to plain ASCII:
- The word "cooperated" in chapter 8 was presented in the printed book with an accented "o" - In chapter 11, "Caesar" was presented with the "ae" ligature - In chapter 11, the ship's name "Union" was presented in italics - In chapter 14, "Thermopylae" was presented with the "ae" ligature