Winning His Way

by Charles Carleton Coffin

  CHAPTER XV.

  SHOWING WHAT HE WAS MADE OF.

  There came a Sabbath morning,--one of the loveliest of all the year. Thesun rose upon a cloudless sky, the air was laden with the fragrance oflocust and alder blossoms, the oaks of the forest were changing from thegray of winter to the green of summer. Beneath their wide-spreadbranches were the tents of a great army; for after the capture of FortDonelson the troops sailed up the Tennessee, and were preparing toattack the Rebels at Corinth.

  Paul was lying in his tent, thinking of home, of the calmness andstillness there, broken only by the chirping of the sparrows and robins,the church-bell, the choir, and the low voices of the congregation. Howdifferent from what was passing around him, where the drummers werebeating the reveille! He was startled from his waking dream by a suddenfiring out among the pickets. What could it mean? It grew more furious.There was confusion. He sprang to his feet and looked out to see whatwas the matter. Soldiers were running through the camp.

  "What is the row?" he asked.

  "The Rebels are attacking us."

  It did not take him long to dress; but, while pulling on his boots, abullet tore through the tent-cloth over his head.

  The camp was astir. Officers shouted, "Fall in!" Soldiers, waking fromsound sleep, buckled on their cartridge-boxes, seized their guns, andtook their places in the ranks before they were fairly awake. Thedrummers beat the long-roll, the buglers sounded the signal for saddlinghorses, the artillery-men got their guns ready, cavalry-men leaped intotheir saddles, baggage-wagons went thundering towards the river. Therewas a volley of musketry, and then a deeper roar from the artillery, andthe terrible contest of the day began, which became more terrific frommorning till noon, from noon till night, with deafening rolls ofmusketry, with the roaring of a hundred cannon, with the yelling of theRebels and the cheering of the soldiers of the Union, as the tempestsurged through the forest, up and down the ravines, around Shilohchurch, in the old cotton-fields, up to the spring where the countrypeople were accustomed to eat their Sunday dinners, down to theTennessee River, where the gunboats were waiting for the hour when theycould open with their great guns.

  Paul was in the storm, riding through the leaden hail which fell allaround him, pattering upon the dead leaves, cutting down the twigs ofthe hazel-bushes, and scarring the trees,--riding along the linescarrying messages to General Sherman, who was fighting like a tiger bythe church, with the bullets piercing his clothes,--to McClernand, whowas near by,--to Wallace, to Prentice, to Hurlburt, to Stuart,--ridingwhere shells were bursting, where solid shot cut off great branches fromthe trees, splintered the trunks, ploughed the ground, whirled men andhorses into the air, tearing them limb from limb, and then passed awaywith weird howlings. He breathed the thick smoke as it belched from thecannon's mouth, and felt the hot flashes on his face. He stood besidehis commander, General Grant, while waiting for orders, and beheld himwhen tidings of disaster were brought in,--that General Prentice andhundreds of his men were captured,--that the line was broken, and themen were falling back. He could hear the triumphant shouts of theRebels.

  Yet amid it all he saw that General Grant was cool and collected. "Wewill whip them yet," he said. Paul felt stronger after that, andresolved to die rather than be beaten. But how slowly dragged the hours!The sun seemed to stand still in the western sky. How hard to see thepoor wounded men, thousands of them, borne to the rear, their feetcrushed, their legs broken, their arms torn and mangled, and to knowthat there were other thousands lying upon the ground where they hadfallen, and the strife still going on around them! Other thousands whowere not wounded were leaving the ranks, exhausted and disheartened.

  "Lieutenant Parker, you will select a line along this ravine, throw upsuch defences as you can, bring up those thirty-two pounders from theriver, and put them in position. They can't cross this. We will beatthem here," said General Grant.

  Sometimes in battle minutes are of priceless value; momentous decisionsmust be made at once. Then men show what they are made of. Those arethe trial moments of life. Paul galloped along the ravine. He saw thatit was wide and deep, and that, if the Rebels could be kept fromcrossing it, the battle would be won; for it was their object to reachthe steamboat-landing, where General Grant had all his supplies of food.There were five great iron cannon at the landing. There, also, crouchingunder the river-bank, to avoid the shot and shell, were thousands offugitives, who had become disheartened, and who had left their comradesto be overpowered and driven back. He saw the situation of affairs in aninstant. His brain was clear. He made up his mind instantly what to do.

  "Here, you--men!" he shouted. "Each of you shoulder one of those emptypork-barrels, and carry it up the bluff." But not a man stirred. Hisindignation was aroused; but he knew that it was not a time forargument. He drew his revolver, pointed it at a group, and said, "Start!or I'll shoot you." It was spoken so resolutely that they obeyed. Hetold them how, if they could hold that position, the Rebels would bedefeated,--how a few minutes of resolute work would save the army. Hesaw their courage revive. They dug a trench, cut down trees, rolled uplogs, filled the barrels with dirt, and worked like beavers. Otherswheeled up the great guns, and Paul put them into position. Othersbrought shot and shell, and laid them in piles beside the guns. Thestorm was coming nearer. The lines were giving way. Regiments withbroken ranks came straggling down the road.

  "Bring all the batteries into position along the ravine," said GeneralGrant. Away flew half a dozen officers with the orders, and thebatteries, one after another, came thundering down the road,--the horsesleaping, the artillery-men blackened and begrimed, yet ready for anotherfight.

  "Get anybody you can to work the thirty-twos," said Colonel Webster, thechief of artillery, to Paul.

  "I can sight a cannon," said a surgeon, who was dressing wounds in thehospital. He laid down his bandages, went up and patted one of the guns,as if it were an old friend, ran his eye along the sights, and told thegunners what to do.

  It was sunset. All day long the battle had raged, and the Union troopshad been driven. The Rebels were ready for their last grand charge,which they hoped would give them the victory. Onward they came down thesteep bank opposite, into the ravine. The Union batteries were ready forthem,--Captain Silversparre with his twenty-pounders, Captain Richardsonand Captain Russell with their howitzers, Captain Stone with histen-pounders, Captain Taylor, Captain Dresser, Captain Willard, andLieutenant Edwards,--sixty or more cannon in all. A gunner was lackingfor one of the great iron thirty-twos. Paul sprang from his horse, andtook command of the piece.

  The long lines of the Rebels came into view. "Bang! bang! bang! bang!"went the guns. Then half a dozen crashed at once,--the great thirty-twosthundering heavier than all the others. Shells, solid shot, and canistertore through the ravine, rolling back the Rebel lines, drenching thehillsides with blood, turning the brook to crimson, and the fresh youngleaves to scarlet. O the wild commotion,--the jarring of the earth, thedeep reverberations rolling far away, and the shouts of the cannoneers!

  "Give them canister!" shouted Paul to the cannoneers, and the terriblemissiles went screaming down the ravine. The bullets were fallingaround him, singing in his ears, but he heeded them not. But O howpainful it was to see a brother officer torn to pieces by his side! Thenhow glorious to behold, through the rifts in the battle-cloud, that theRebels were flying in confusion through the woods. Then there came acheer. General Nelson had arrived with reinforcements, and Buell's wholearmy was near. The thirty-two-pounders, the howitzers, and the batterieshad saved the day, and the victory was won. And now, as night came on,the gunboats joined, throwing eleven-inch shells into the woods amongthe Rebel troops, which added discomfiture to defeat. And when theuproar, the noise, and the confusion had died away, how good to thankGod for the victory, and for the preservation of his life! Howgratifying to receive the thanks of his commander on the field,--to bementioned as one who had done his duty faithfully, and who was deservingof promotion!

  After the ba
ttle he was made a captain, and had greater responsibilitiesresting upon him. He was called upon to take long rides, with thecavalry, on expeditions into the enemy's country. Sometimes he foundhimself alone in the dark woods of Mississippi, threading the narrowpaths, swimming rivers, wading creeks, plunging into swamps,--at othertimes, with his comrades, sweeping like a whirlwind through the Southerntowns, in pursuit of the retreating foe, riding day and night, oftenwithout food, but occasionally having a nice supper of roast chickencooked by the bivouac-fire in the forest. Sometimes he spread hisblanket beneath the grand old trees, and had a rest for the night; andoften, when pursued by the enemy, when there was no time to stop andrest, he slept in his saddle, and dreamed of home. So he spent themonths which followed that terrible battle, obtaining information whichwas of inestimable value. Thus he served his country,--at Corinth, atMemphis, and at Vicksburg, where, through the long, hot, weary, sicklymonths, the brave soldiers toiled, building roads, cutting trenches,digging ditches, excavating canals, clearing forests, erectingbatteries, working in mud and water, fighting on the Yazoo, and at last,under their great leader, sweeping down the west side of theMississippi, crossing the river, defeating the enemy in all the battleswhich followed, then closing in upon the town and capturing it, aftermonths of hardship and suffering. How hard this work! how laborious,and wearing, and dangerous!

  Paul found little time to rest. It was his duty to lay out the work forthe soldiers, to say where the breastworks should be thrown up, wherethe guns should be placed in position. In the dark nights he went outbeyond the picket-lines and examined the hills and ravines, while thebullets of the Rebel sharpshooters were flying about his ears, and inthe daytime he was riding along the lines while the great guns werebellowing, to see if they were in the best position, and were doingtheir proper work. At length there came a morning when the Rebels raiseda white flag, and Vicksburg surrendered. It was the glorious reward forall their hardship, toil, suffering, and endurance. How proudly thesoldiers marched into the city, with drums beating, bands playing, andall their banners waving! It was the Fourth of July, the most joyful dayof all the year. There were glad hearts all over the land,--ringing ofbells and firing of cannon, songs of praise and thanksgivings; for notonly at Vicksburg, but at Gettysburg, the soldiers of the Union had wona great victory.