The Rock of Chickamauga by Joseph A. Altsheler (best love novels of all time txt) 📖
- Author: Joseph A. Altsheler
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exposed to the fiercest attacks, but fortunately the thickets and hills
gave them much shelter. At times they lay down and returned the fire
of the enemy until they beat him off. Then they would rise and march on
again.
All the officers had lost their horses, and Colonel Winchester strode
at the head of his men. Just behind were Dick, Pennington and some other
members of his staff. The rest had fallen. Further back was Sergeant
Whitley, his head in a red bandage, but all his faculties returned.
In this dire emergency he was taking upon himself the duties of a
commissioned officer, and there was none to disobey him. Once more was
the wise veteran showing himself a very bulwark of strength.
Despite the coolness of the night, they had all suffered on the second
day of the battle from a burning thirst. And now after their immense
exertions it grew fiercer than ever. Dick's throat and mouth were
parched, and he felt as if he were breathing fire. He felt that he must
have water or die. All the men around him were panting, and he knew they
were suffering the same torture.
"This country ought to be full of brooks and creeks," he said to
Pennington. "If I see water I mean to make a dash for it, Johnnies or no
Johnnies. 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 left
in this regiment. If they see the flash of water nothing can hold them
back, 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, whence
the 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, when
they found one, they would first drink of it, and then lie down in its
bed and let its water flow over them.
But Dick's thirst could not wholly take his mind from the tremendous
scenes accompanying that sullen and defiant retreat. Hills and mountains
were in deepest gloom, save when the signal lights of the Southern
armies flashed back and forth. The clouded moon touched everything
nearer by with somber gray. The fire of cannon rolled through the forest
and 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 silver
through some bushes, and he knew that it was made by the swift current
of 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 he
did 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 that
ever flowed!"
But they stopped in their rush and dropped down in the thickets.
Sergeant Whitley had given the warning shout, and fortunately most of a
volley from a point about a hundred yards beyond the stream swept over
their 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 should
kill each other over a drink of water when there's enough for all. Has
any man a handkerchief?"
"Here, sir," said Warner; "it's ragged and not very clean, but I hope it
will do."
The Colonel raised the handkerchief on the point of his sword and gave
a hail. The bulk of the two armies had passed on, and now there was
silence in the woods as the two little forces confronted each other
across the stream.
Dick saw a tall form in Confederate gray rise up from the bushes on the
other 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 to
have it."
"You don't want it any more than we do, and you're not any more bound to
have it than we are."
The colonel hesitated a moment, and then, influenced by a generous
impulse, 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 last
two 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 gained
the advantage so far, but is it agreed that we shall have a truce for a
quarter 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 rose
from the thickets, and made a rush for the brook. It was a beautiful
little stream, the most beautiful in the world just then to Dick and his
friends. Clear and cold, the color of silver in the moonlight, it rushed
down from the mountains. On one side knelt the men in blue, and on the
other the men in gray, and the pure water was like the elixir of heaven
to their parched and burning throats.
Dick drank long, and then as he raised his face from the stream he saw
opposite him a tall, lean youth, evidently from the far South, Louisiana
perhaps, a lad with a tanned face and a wide mouth stretched in a
friendly grin.
"Tastes good, doesn't it, Yank?" he said.
"Yes, it does, Reb," replied Dick. "I felt that I was drying up and just
crumbling away like old dead wood. As soon as the gallon that I've drunk
has percolated thoroughly through my system I intend to hoist aboard
another gallon."
"I don't know what percolate means, but I reckon it has something to
do with travelin' about through your system. I think I need a couple of
gallons 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 a
temporary 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 my
second gallon."
"So am I."
Each bent down and drank again a long, life-giving draught from the
rushing stream. For a distance of a hundred yards or more heads black,
brown and sometimes yellow were bent over the brook. Far off, both
to east and west, the cannon thundered in the darkness, but with the
drinkers it was a peaceful interlude of a quarter of an hour. Such
moments often occurred in this war when the men on both sides were blood
brethren.
Colonel Winchester stood up, and the grizzled Confederate colonel stood
up on the other side of the stream, facing him. Their hands rose in a
simultaneous salute of respect.
"Sir," said Colonel Winchester, "I'm happy to have met you in this
manner."
"Sir," said the Southern colonel ornately, "we are happy to have drunk
from the same stream with such brave foes, and now, sir, I propose as
we retire that neither regiment shall fire a shot within the next five
minutes."
"Agreed," said Colonel Winchester, and then as the colonels gave the
signals the two regiments withdrew beyond their respective thickets.
The truce of the water was over, but these foes did not meet again that
night.
The regiment had left a great proportion of its numbers dead upon the
field. Half the others were wounded more or less, but the slightly
wounded marched on with the unhurt. Many of them were now barely
conscious. 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 and
alert. He passed among the lads of his own age, and encouraged them. He
told them how the older men were already speaking of the wonders they
had done, and presently he saw Thomas himself riding along with the
young general, Garfield, who had been with him throughout the afternoon.
All the Winchester men saw their commander, and, worn as they were, they
stopped and gave a mighty cheer. Thomas was moved. Under the cloudy moon
Dick 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 so
long.
When they reached the little town of Chattanooga within its mountains
they began to realize the full grandeur of their exploit. The remainder
of the army of Rosecrans was almost a mob, and brave as he undoubtedly
was he was soon removed to another field, leaving Thomas in supreme
command until Grant should come.
Dick had no rest until the next night, when tents were set for the
battered remains of the Winchester regiment. He, Warner, Pennington
and three others were assigned to one of the larger tents. He had been
without sleep for two days and two nights, and the tremendous tension
that had kept him up so long was relaxing fast. He felt that he must
sleep or die. Yet they talked together a little before they stretched
themselves upon their blankets.
"Do you think Bragg will attack us in Chattanooga, Dick?" asked
Pennington.
"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 ours
and reinforcements will soon pour in to us. I think that General Thomas
saved the Union. What have you to say, George?"
"Just about what you are saying, Dick. We've been beaten, but not enough
to suit the Johnnies. They have on their side present victory. We have
on ours present but not total defeat. You might say they have x, while
we have x + y. Wait until I look into my algebra, and I can find further
mathematical and beautiful propositions proving my contention beyond the
shadow of a doubt."
He took out his algebra and opened it. A bullet fell from the leaves
into his lap. Warner picked it up and examined it carefully. Then he
looked at the book.
"It went half way through," he said in tones of genuine solemnity. "If
it had gone all the way it would have pierced my heart and I could never
have known how this war is going to end. It has saved my life, and I
shall always keep it over my heart until we go back home."
Dick was asleep the next minute, and they did not wake him for twelve
hours. When he came from the tent he stood blinking in the sun, and a
tall lean youth hailed him with a joyous shout:
"Why, it's Mason--Mason of Kentucky!" exclaimed the lad, extending a
hardened 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 their
escape from death.
Dick learned later that all the Woodvilles were still alive and that
Colonel Kenton, although wounded, was recovering fast. Slade, with
troublesome raids, soon gave evidence of his own continued existence.
Then, as they expected, reinforcements poured in. Grant came, and Dick
and his comrades took part in the fight at Missionary Ridge and the
battle "above the clouds" on Lookout Mountain. He witnessed great
triumphs and he had a share in them.
He saw Bragg's army broken up, and he rejoiced with the others when the
news came that Grant for his brilliant successes had been made commander
of all the armies of the Union, and would go east to match himself
against the mighty Lee. The Winchester regiment would go with him
and Dick, Warner, Pennington and Sergeant Whitley, who was entirely
recovered, talked of it gravely:
"We've been in the East before," said Pennington, "but we won't be under
any doubting general now."
"I fancy it
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