The Sword of Antietam: A Story of the Nation's Crisis by Joseph A. Altsheler (novels to read in english TXT) 📖

Dick kept close to Colonel Winchester and Warner and Pennington were by his side. The sergeant was also near. There was no chance to give or send orders, and the officers, snatching up the rifles of the fallen soldiers, fought almost as privates. The Winchester regiment performed prodigies of valor on that day, and the Ohio lads strove desperately for every inch of ground.

It seemed to Dick once that they would hold fast, when he heard in front a tremendous cry of: “On, my boys!” As the smoke lifted a little he saw that it was Colonel Kenton leading his own trained and veteran regiment. Colonel Winchester and Colonel Kenton, in fact, had met face to face, but the Southern regiment was the more numerous and the stronger. Winchester's men were gradually borne back and the colonel gasped to Dick:

“Didn't I see your uncle leading on his regiment?”

“Yes, it was he. It was his regiment that struck us, but he's hidden now by the smoke.”

The Southern rush did not cease. McCook's whole division, between the shallow creeks was driven back, sustaining frightful losses, and it would have been destroyed, but the artillery of Sheridan on the flank suddenly opened upon the Southern victors. The Southerners whirled and charged Sheridan, but his defense was so strong, and so powerful was his artillery that they were compelled to recoil every time with shattered ranks.

The decimated Ohio regiments beyond the creek were gathering themselves anew for the battle, and so were the men of Colonel Winchester, now reduced to half their numbers again. Then a great shout arose. A fresh brigade had come up to their relief, and aided by these new men they made good the ground upon which they stood.

Another shout arose, telling that Buell was coming, and, two hours after the combat had opened, he arrived with more troops. But night was now at hand, and the sun set over a draw like that at Antietam. Forty thousand men had fought a battle only about three hours long, and eight thousand of them lay dead or wounded upon the sanguinary field. One half the Union army never reached the field in time to fight.

As both sides drew off in the darkness, Dick shouted in triumph, thinking they had won a victory. A bullet fired by some retiring Southern skirmisher glanced along his head. There was a sudden flash of fire before him and then darkness. His body fell on a little slope and rolled among some bushes.

The close hot night came down upon the field, and the battle, the most sanguinary ever fought on Kentucky soil, had closed. Like so many other terrible struggles of the Civil War, it had been doubtful, or almost, so far as the fighting was concerned. The Northern left wing had been driven back, but the Northern right wing had held firm against every attack of the enemy.

Pennington, when he lay panting on the ground with the remnant of the Winchesters, knew little about the result of the combat. He knew that their own division had suffered terribly. The Ohio recruits had been cut almost to pieces, and the Winchester regiment had been reduced by half again. He was so tired that he did not believe he could stir for a long time. He felt no wound, but every bone ached from weariness, and his throat and mouth seemed to burn with smoke and dust.

Pennington did not see either Dick or Warner, but as soon as he got a little strength into his limbs he would look for them. No doubt they were safe. A special providence always watched over those fellows. It was true that Warner had been wounded at the Second Manassas, but a hidden power had guided Dick to him, and he got well so fast that he was able to fight soon afterward at Antietam.

Pennington lay still, and he heard all around him the deep breathing of men who, like himself, were so worn that they could scarcely move. The field in front of him darkened greatly, but he saw lights moving there, and he knew that they belonged to little parties from either army looking for the wounded. He began to wonder which side had won the battle.

“Ohio,” he said to one of the Ohio lads who lay near, “did we lick the Johnnies, or did the Johnnies lick us?”

“Blessed if I know, and I don't care much, either. Four fellows that I used to play with at school were killed right beside me. It was my first battle, and, Oh, I tell you, it was awful!”

He gulped suddenly and began to cry. Pennington, who was no older than he, patted him soothingly on the shoulder.

“I know that you were the bravest of the brave, because I saw you,” he said.

“I don't know about that, but I do know that I can never get used to killing men and seeing them killed.”

Pennington was surprised that Dick and Warner had not appeared. They would certainly rejoin their own regiment, and he began to feel uneasy. The last shot had been fired, the night was darkening fast and a mournful wind blew over the battlefield. But up and down the lines they were lighting the cooking fires.

Pennington rose to his feet. He saw Colonel Winchester, standing a little distance away, and he was about to ask him for leave to look for his comrades, when he was startled by the appearance of a woman, a woman of thirty-eight or nine, tall, slender, dressed well, and as Pennington plainly saw, very beautiful. But now she was dusty, her face was pale, and her eyes shone with a terrible anxiety. Women were often seen in the camps at the very verge or close of battle, saying good-bye or looking for the lost, but she was unusual.

The soldiers stood aside for her respectfully, and she looked about, until her gaze fell upon the colonel. Then she ran to him, seized him by the arm, and exclaimed:

“Colonel Winchester! Colonel Winchester!”

“Good heavens, Mrs. Mason! You! How did you come?”

“I was at Danville, not so far from here. Of course I knew that the armies were about to meet for battle! And it was only two days ago that I heard the Winchester regiment had come west to join General Buell's army.”

A stalwart and powerful colored woman emerged from the darkness and put her arm around Mrs. Mason's waist.

“Don't you get too much excited, chile,” she said soothingly.

Juliana stood beside her mistress, a very tower of defense, glaring at the soldiers about them as if she would resent their curiosity.

“I thought I would come and try to see Dick,” continued Mrs. Mason. “My relatives sought to persuade me not to do it. They were right, I know, but I wanted to come so badly that I had to do it. We slipped away yesterday, Juliana and I. We stayed at a farmhouse last night, and this morning we rode through the woods. We expected to be in the camp this afternoon, but as we were coming to the edge of the forest we heard the cannon and then the rifles. Through three or four dreadful hours, while we shook there