Si Klegg, Book 4

by John McElroy

  CHAPTER XVI. THE TERRIFIC STRUGGLE

  THE END OF THE BATTLE OF CHICKAMAUGA.

  LIEUT. Bowersox, Si, Shorty and the recruits left the woods and entereda large clearing, in the midst of which was a log cabin, with a few rudeoutbuildings. Over it flew the yellow flag of the hospital service,and beyond could be seen the parked trains and other evidences of theline-of-battle.

  The roar of the battle would have told them as much, for it was nowdeafening. The earth seemed to throb and the trees shake with theawful shocks. As they passed the hospital they saw a grewsome pile ofamputated legs and arms, while the ground around about was filled withwounded, whose groans pierced through the roar of battle.

  James Bradshaw and Simeon Wheelwright, the two tall, stalwart men whohad stood on the right and who had shown great coolness during thefight, gave one look at the dismembered limbs, turned pale as death,gasped, and fell in a faint.

  "Forward! Can't stop to pay attention to them," commanded theLieutenant, in whom the battle-fever was burning.

  Though still more than two miles from the low crest of Snodgrass Hill,where Gen. Thomas, with the remainder of the Army of the Cumberland,was standing savagely at bay against the fierce assaults of Bragg's andLongstreet's overwhelming numbers, they were soon in the midst of thewild ruck and confusion of the rear of a great battle. Miles ofwagons were being urged hither and yon, some times in accordance withintelligent orders by officers, more often from the panicky fears ofwagon-masters and teamsters; riderless horses with saddles under theirbellies were galloping frantically around; squads of artillerymen insearch of ammunition were storming about, cursing cowardly teamsters,whom they could not find; streams of wounded men were trying to maketheir way to the hospitals; officers were yelling and swearing in theirattempts to rally shirks and cowards who had fled from the front;men from regiments which had been broken and scattered by the fierceassaults were trying to find their colors; Colonels whose regiments hadbeen ordered up from the rear were fiercely forcing their way forward,with many dire objurgations on all who impeded their progress.

  It was a scene to discourage any but the stoutest heart, yet itonly wrought up the boys to greater eagerness to get through to thefiring-line.

  The smoke-crowned crest of Snodgrass Hill was seen but half a mileaway. They could make out the ragged, irregular line of blue constantlyvailing itself in sulphurous vapor as it poured murderous volleys intothe enemy. The shrill yell of the rebels as they renewed the charge, andthe deep-toned cheer of the Union soldiers as they repulsed it, reachedtheir ears in the momentary lulls of the firing.

  So far, in spite of all deterrents, they had brought every man throughexcept the two who had fainted at the hospital. Everyone had shown truemetal. Little Abel Waite had particularly distinguished him self byskillful dodging under wagons and past flanks, in order to keep up withthe swift pace of the longer-legged men.

  They had as yet found no one in all the throng to give them the leastinformation as to their regiment, when Si spied a member of Co. Qwalking deliberately back, holding the wrist of his shattered left handin his right, with his fingers compressing the artery to restrain theflow of blood.

  "There's Silas Peckham," exclaimed Si, running up to him. "Badly hurt,Sile?"

  "No," answered Silas, more coolly than if he had stubbed his toe. "Lefthand's gone on a strike. That's all. Wisht I could find a doctor to fixit up so I could git back to the boys. They're havin' an awful tussle upthere, an' need me bad. Better hurry up, Si. Don't waste no time on me.I'll find a doctor soon an' be back with you."

  "Where's the regiment, Sile?" asked the Lieutenant.

  "Right up there to the left o' them tall hickories," answered Silas,pointing with his bloody hand. "To the right o' that battery, you seethere. That's our bully old battery at work. Greatest battery in thearmy. I've kept my eye on the place, because I want to git back assoon's I kin find the Surgeon. Ain't much left o' the regiment, orbattery either, for that matter; but they're raisin' hell with theJohnnies every time, and don't you forgit it. Capt. McGillicuddy's incommand."

  "Capt. McGillicuddy?" said the Lieutenant. "Why, he's the junior Captainin the regiment."

  "He was yisterday mornin', but he's now senior to everybody that'salive," answered Silas. "The Kunnel wuz killed yisterday forenoon. TheLootenant-Kunnell held out about three hours an' then he got it forkeeps, an' the Major tuck command an' stuck out till nigh evenin', whenthey knocked him.

  "This mornin' the Captains 's bin going down so fast that I couldn'tkeep track of 'em, till Capt. McGillicuddy was the only one left, an'he's swearin' that the rebels never run no bullet that could hit him.The Adjutant's acting Lootenant-Kunnel an' Major both to-wunst, andshootin' a gun when he hain't nothin' else to do. But the boys that'sleft 's stayers, I tell you. They've jest stuck their toenails intothat hilltop there, an' every time them howlin' rebels come yippin' an'ki-yi-in' out o' the woods they send 'em back on the dead run. But theywant you up there bad. You've got more than's left in the regiment.Hurry up. I'll be back with you jest as soon's I kin find a doctor tocooper me up a little."

  "Forward Quick time March!" shouted the Lieutenant. "Guide on those tallhickories."

  Onward they rushed full into the smoke that drifted backward down thehill. As they gained the crest the air became clearer, and they saw thesadly-shrunken remnant of their regiment strung in an irregular linealong the forward edge. Some were binding up wounds more or less severe,some were searching the boxes of the dead and wounded for cartridges,some were leaning on their hot guns, looking curiously into the woods atthe foot of the slope into which the rebels had fled.

  Every face was blackened with powder almost beyond recognition. Theartillerymen to the left were feverishly swabbing out their guns andtrying to cool them off, and bringing up everything in the shape ofammunition from the limbers in the rear.

  Capt. McGillicuddy was leaning on his sword at the right of the line,intently watching everything. He looked sharply around, when the menraised a cheer on recognizing Si and the rest, and coming back shookLieut. Bowersox warmly by the hand, saying:

  "Great God, Lieutenant, I've always been glad to see you, but I neverwas so glad to see a man in my life as I am you this minute. How manymen did you bring?"

  "I've got 128 with me," answered the Lieutenant. "What's the situation?"

  "You have? Well, you've got more than we have left. You'll act as Major.Poor Wilkinson just got his dose. You can see him lying down there inthe rear of the left. Put your men in anywhere. Mix them up with theothers.. It don't matter much about formation. The main thing's to standand shoot. The rebels have been charging us all after noon, but we havewhipped them back every time.

  "You can see our work out there (pointing to the slope in front, whichwas literally covered with dead and wounded). I've thought every timethat they couldn't stand another such a slaughter, but they've ralliedin those woods there and come out again with their infernal yell, justas before. The last time it seemed to me that we just swept them off theface of the earth, and I don't see how in God's name they can standany more of that sort of thing. It's worse killing than we gave them atStone River. It seems to me that hell has let out for noon, and sentall its devils to reinforce them. But it will soon be night now, whenthey'll have to stop. If they won't we'll have to depend on the bayonet,for we haven't five rounds apiece left, and I can't get more anywhere."

  Si and Shorty had been distributing the detachment along the line, andhad posted the Englishman and his squad of Irishmen, with themselves,around the tattered colors, which were now in the hands of the lastsurvivor of the color guard, who was himself wounded.

  Dusk was fast coming on, when the woods beyond the foot of the slopebegan to darken again with masses of men arraying in column of assault.

  "They're coming again," called out Capt. McGillicuddy. "Lieut. Bowersox,look out there for the left. Men, if we haven't stopped them when we'vefired out last shot, we'll fix bayonets and charge them. We must keepthem off this
hill or die right here."

  He was answered with cheers. A demoniac yell from 10,000 fierce throatsrang through the woods, and the next instant thunder and flames burstfrom the sweeping crescent of rebel cannon, and the ground in front ofthe foot of the hill was hidden from view by the tide of men rushingover it.

  A fierce storm of cannon and musketry answered from the crest of thehill. As they reloaded, Si and Shorty saw in quick glances that therebel line to the right and left seemed beaten to a standstill by theterrific storm which fell upon them, but in their immediate front a bodyof men, apparently a regiment, kept stubbornly forging forward. Upontheir flag, held gallantly aloft, could be made out the let ters "Miss."

  By the time every shot in the cartridge-boxes had been fired at themthey had forced their way half-up the slope.

  "Attention, 200th Indiana," shouted Capt. McGillicuddy. "Dress on thecolors. Fix bayonets."

  "They'uns 's Injiannians," shouted the rebel Color-Sergeant, wavinghis flag defiantly. "Come on, you Hoosiers. We'uns 's Mississippians.Remember Buny Visty. Injiannians 's cowards."

  "Shorty, le's have that 'ere flag," said Si.

  "Le's," said Shorty, pushing around the ring that locked his bayonet on.

  "Forward March Charge!" shouted Capt. McGillicuddy.

  THEY HAD A DELIRIOUS REMEMBRANCE OF THE MAD WHIRL. 211]

  Of the mad whirl of an eternity of events in the next few minutesneither Si nor Shorty had anything but a delirious remembrance. Theycould only recollect the fierce rush of the lightning-like play ofbayonet and gun-barrel in the storm-center around the rebel colors.Each after an instant's savage fencing had sent his bayonet home in hisopponent's body. Si had sprung at and seized the rebel colors, only tofall, as he grasped them, from a bullet out of the revolver of a rebelCaptain, whom Shorty instantly bayoneted, and fell himself from a blowacross the head with a musket-barrel.

  The man who struck him was bayoneted by Abel Waite, who was dancingaround the edges of the melee like a malignant little fiend, proddingwherever he could get a chance at a rebel body. The Irishmen, yellinglike demons, were using their guns like shilelahs, and crushing heads inevery direction, while Wat Burnham had thrown his musket aside, and wasrushing at everybody with his mighty fists.

  At length the rebels fled, leaving the Indianians in possession of theircolors and the hillside.

  "Some of you find Lieut. Bowersox, and bring him here," said Capt.McGillicuddy, sitting up, and beginning to twist a handkerchief aroundhis thigh, to form a tourniquet. "Lieutenant, you all right?"

  "Nothing more than a mere scratch on the side of my head," said theLieutenant, wiping away the blood.

  "Well, Lieutenant, you'll have to take command of the regiment. I had apersonal altercation with that Mississippi Colonel lying over there,and he put a bullet through my thigh. Get the men together, pick up ourwounded, and fall back to the top of the hill again."

  "I'm afraid there's no use of picking up Corp'l Klegg and Shorty," saidthe Lieutenant, with tears in his eyes. "They got the rebel flag, butthey're lying there stiff and cold."

  "Well, bring them back, anyway, so we can lay them beside the othergallant boys who have fallen to-day."