The Rock of Chickamauga by Joseph A. Altsheler (best love novels of all time txt) 📖
- Author: Joseph A. Altsheler
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seem possible that the result here could be similar.
"I don't think they'll keep on retreating forever, Ohio," he said. "All
our supplies are coming from Nashville, and we are getting farther away
from our base every day."
But Ohio laughed.
"Our chief task is to catch Bragg," he said. "They said he was going
to occupy Chattanooga and wait for us. He's been in Chattanooga, but he
didn't wait for us there. He's left it already and gone on, anxious to
reach the Gulf before winter, I suppose."
The Union army in its turn entered Chattanooga, a little town of which
Dick had seldom heard before, although he greatly admired its situation.
The country about it was bold and romantic. It stood in a sharp curve
of the great river, the Tennessee. Not far away was the lofty uplift of
Lookout Mountain, a half-mile high, and there were long ridges between
which creeks or little rivers flowed down to the Tennessee.
One of these streams was the Chickamauga, which in the language of the
Cherokee Indians who had once owned this region means "the river of
death." Why they called it so no one knew, but the name was soon to have
a terrible fitness. Chattanooga itself meant in the Cherokee tongue "the
hawk's nest," and anybody could see the aptness of the term.
While Lookout Mountain was the loftiest summit, some of the other ridges
rose almost as high, through the gaps of which the Northern army must
pass if it continued the pursuit of Bragg.
September had now come and the winds were growing crisper in the high
country. The feel of autumn was in the air, and the coolness made the
marching brisker. The division to which Dick belonged was advancing
slowly. He often saw Thomas, and his admiration for the grave, silent
man grew. It was said that Thomas was slow, but that he never made
mistakes. Now the rumor was spreading that he had warned Rosecrans to be
cautious, that Bragg had a powerful army and when he reached favorable
positions, would certainly turn and fight.
Not many were impressed by these reports. They merely said it was "Pap"
Thomas' way of looking at the dark side of things first. Hadn't they
driven Bragg through the Cumberland Mountains and out of Chattanooga,
and now they would soon be on his heels deep down in Georgia. But Dick,
noticing Colonel Winchester's serious face, surmised that he at least
shared the opinion of his chief. And when the lad looked up at the great
coils and ridges he felt that, in truth, they might go too far. If the
Northern men were veterans, so were the Southern, and neither had taken
much change of the other at Shiloh, Perryville and Stone River.
The Winchester regiment was thrown forward as the vanguard of the
infantry, and the face of the colonel grew more serious than ever, when
the best scouts rode in with reports that the Southern retreat was now
very slow. There was news, too, that Slade had a new band much larger
than before, and they formed a rear guard of skirmishers which made
every moment of a Northern scout's life a moment of danger. The
Winchester regiment itself was often fired upon from ambush, and there
were vacant places in the ranks.
Dick did not know whether it was his own intuition or the influence that
flowed from the opinions of Thomas and Winchester, but much of his high
exultation was abated. He regarded the lofty ridges and the deep gaps
with apprehension. It was a difficult country and the Southern leaders
must know that the Northern army was extended over a long line, with
Thomas holding the left.
His premonitions had ample cause. Bragg as he fell back slowly had
gathered new forces. Rosecrans did not yet know it, but the army before
him was the most powerful that the South ever assembled in the West.
Polk and Cleburne and Breckinridge and Forrest and Fighting Joe Wheeler
and a whole long roll of famous Southern generals were there. Nor had
the vigilant eyes of the Confederacy in the East failed to note the
situation.
Just as the armies were coming into touch a division of the Army of
Northern Virginia was passing by train over the mountains. It was led
by a thick-bearded, powerful man, no less a general than the renowned
Longstreet, sent to help Bragg. The veterans of the Army of Northern
Virginia would swell Bragg's ranks, and the great army, turning a
sanguine face northward, was eager for Rosecrans to come on. The
Southern force would number more than ninety thousand men, more numerous
than ever before or afterward in the West.
It was now late in September, the eve of the eighteenth, and Dick
and his comrades lay near the little creek with the rhythmical name,
Chickamauga. It was the very night that a portion of the Army of
Northern Virginia had arrived in Bragg's camp. The preceding days had
been full of detached fighting, and the night had come heavy with omens
and presages. The least intelligent knew now that Bragg had stopped, but
they did not know that Longstreet was to be with him.
Dick and his comrades sat by a smothered fire, and the vast tangle of
mountains and passes, of valleys and streams looked sinister to them.
There had been skirmishing throughout the day, and as the darkness
closed down they still heard occasional rifle shots on the slopes and
ridges.
"Don't these mountains make you think of your native Vermont, George?"
asked Dick.
"In a way, yes," replied Warner, "but my hills are not bristling with
steel as these are."
"No, you New Englanders are fortunate. The war will never be carried on
on your soil. You shed your blood, but, after all, the states that are
trodden under foot by the armies suffer most."
"There are lights winking on the mountains again," said Pennington.
"Let 'em wink," said Dick. "Their signals can't amount to much now. We
know that Bragg is before us, and a great battle can't be delayed long.
Fellows, I'm not so sure about the result."
"Come! Come, Dick!" said Warner. "It's not often you're downhearted.
What's struck you?"
"Nothing, George, but, between you and me and the gate post, I wish that
our old 'Pap' Thomas commanded all the army, instead of the left merely.
I've learned a few things to-day. The enemy is spreading out, trying to
enfold us on both wings."
"What of it?"
"It means that they are sanguine of victory, and they want to stand
between us and Chattanooga, so they can cut off our retreat, after we're
beaten, as they think we surely will be. But their main force is not
far from us now, so a scout told me. It's massed heavily along the right
bank of the Chickamauga."
"And if there's a battle to-morrow we're likely to receive the first
attack?"
"Could it come any better than at the place where Thomas stands?"
They sat long by the fire and Dick could not rest. Shiloh, his capture,
and his knowledge of the secret Southern advance, of which he could give
no warning, came back to him with uncommon vividness. He knew that
no such surprise could occur here, but they seemed to be lost in the
wilderness. The mountains and forests oppressed him.
"Well, Dick," said Warner, "we're posted strongly. We've rows of
sentinels as thick as hedges, and I've the colonel's permission to go to
sleep. I'll be slumbering in ten minutes, and I'd advise you to do the
same."
He lay on a blanket and soon slept. Pennington followed him to
slumberland, but Dick lingered. He saw lights still flashing on the
mountains, and he heard now and then reports from the rifles of the
skirmishers, who yet sought each other despite the darkness. But he
yielded at last and he, too, slept until the dawn, which should bring
nearly two hundred thousand men face to face in mortal combat.
Dick was awake early. The September morning came, crisp and clear, the
sun showing red gleams over the mountains. He heard already the sound of
distant rifle shots in front, and, through his glasses, he saw far away
faint puffs of smoke. But it was a familiar sound in this mighty war,
and he found himself singularly calm. He never knew how he was going to
feel on the eve of battle. Sometimes the constriction at his heart was
painful, and sometimes its beat was smooth and regular.
All the officers of the Winchester regiment were dismounted owing to the
rough nature of the country in which they were stationed. They held the
most uneven part of the center, where thickets and ravines were many.
Hot food and coffee were served to them, and new warmth and courage
flowed through their bodies.
The distant fire increased, and, standing on a hillock, Dick looked
long through his glasses. A faint haze which had hung in the south was
clearing away. The rays of the sun were intensely bright. The brown
of autumn glowed like gold, and the red splashes here and there burned
scarlet. He saw pink dots appearing on a long line and he knew that the
skirmishers were active and wary.
"There can be no doubt of the advance!" he said to Warner. "A strong
body of our cavalry disclosed their forward movement, and there are
the skirmishers signaling that Bragg is near. Wonderful fellows, those
sharpshooters! They're the eyes of the army. We stand in mass and fight
together, but every one of them individually takes his life in his own
hands. The firing is coming nearer. I think we'll be attacked first."
After a little pause Warner said:
"I'm sorry our line is extended so much. What if they should cut through
and get behind us?"
"They'll never do it while General Thomas is here. I believe they called
him 'Old Slow Top' at West Point, but if he's slow in advance he's still
slower in retreat. I'd rather have him commanding us just now than any
other general in the world."
"I think you're right, and here he comes! Listen to the cheering!"
General Thomas rode slowly along his line, inspecting the position
of every regiment and making some changes. He showed no trace of
excitement. The face was calm and the heavy jaw was set firmly. If Grant
was a bulldog Thomas was another. The men knew him. They had seen him
stand like a rock before, and the thrill of confidence and courage which
help so much to win ran through them all.
Dick saw the general speak to Colonel Winchester and then ride on and
out of sight. All the men in the regiment were lying down, but the
officers walked back and forth in front of the line. It was the especial
pride of the younger ones to appear unconcerned, and some were able to
make a brave pretense.
But all the while the battle was rolling nearer. It was no longer an
affair of scouting parties. The skirmishers were driven in on either
side and the mighty Southern advance was coming forward in full battle
array. Shells began to shriek and fall among the Northern masses, and
the fire of cannon and rifles mingled in a sinister crash. But the Union
regiments, although not yet replying, remained steady, although the
shower of steel that was beginning to beat upon them found many a mark.
Vast columns of smoke pierced by fire rose in front.
It seemed to Dick's vivid fancy that the earth was shaking with the
tread of the advancing brigades and the thunder of their artillery.
But he was still able to preserve his air of indifference, although his
heart was now beating hard and fast. Now and then when the smoke eddied
or the banks of it broke apart he raised his glasses and with their
powerful vision saw the long and deep Southern columns advancing, the
field batteries in the intervals pouring a storm of death.
It was a sinister and terrible sight. The South presented here an army
outnumbering its force at Shiloh two to one, and they were veterans
now, led by veteran commanders. Moreover, they had Longstreet and his
matchless fighters from Lee's army to bear them up.
"What do you see, Dick?" asked Pennington, his voice distinctly audible
through the steady roar.
"Johnnies! Johnnies! Johnnies! Thousands and thousands of them and then
many thousands more. They're going to strike full upon us here!"
"Let 'em come. We're taking root, growing deep into the ground and old
'Pap' Thomas has grown deepest of us all! It'll be impossible to move
us!"
"I hope so. There go our own cannon, too, and it's a welcome sound!
I can see the gaps smashed in their ranks by our fire, and ah, I see,
too--"
He stopped short in amazed surprise, and Pennington in wonder asked:
"What is it you see, Dick?"
"There's a heavy cavalry force
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