The Rock of Chickamauga - Joseph A. Altsheler (macos ebook reader .txt) 📗

on the extreme flank, where the men were

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