CHAPTER XXXII
WE REPULSE THE ENEMY
I naturally anticipated an immediate attack, and began preparations.Glass was broken from the small windows through which the men were tofire, and the sergeants and myself made inspection of men and arms, andgave orders for vigorous defence. Yet we were already so well intrenchedthat this required but a few moments, and, confident I could shift myforce quickly so as to meet any attack, I returned to the front rooms toobserve the enemy. To my surprise there was no evidence of any movementin our direction, although there had been a noticeable shifting oftroops. Chambers had swung his infantry forward through gaps in the lineof battle, and was now confronting the Federal advance, not only holdinghis ground, but it seemed to me, slightly pushing his opponent. I ran upstairs so as to obtain a wider view of the field. They were fightingfiercely to our front and left, the line of fire slightly overlappingthe pike, although, from the led horses in the rear, the troops engagedon this extremity were mostly dismounted cavalry. Marching columns werestill approaching from the south, swinging off from the pike as theyneared the house, and disappearing into a grove of trees to the east.The land in that direction was rough, and I could only guess at theformation by the sound of firing, and the dense clouds of smoke. It wasout there the artillery was massed, although in all of Chambers' commandI saw but two batteries. The heaviest fighting was to the east, not sofar away but what we were within shell range, and yet out of directview, while to the north the Confederates could be seen struggling togain possession of a low hill. Their first rush had dislodged theFederals from the log church, but had been halted just below in thehollow. Beyond to the westward stretched the black shadow of the ravine,silent and deserted, largely concealed by a fringe of trees.
That which interested me more particularly, however, was the scenenearer at hand--the stragglers, the wounded, the skulkers, thedisorganized bodies of men, the wearied commands which had been fightingsince daylight, now doggedly falling back, relieved by new arrivals, yetunwilling to go. They were not beaten, and their officers had fairly todrive them from the field, and when they halted the men faced to thefront. It was all a scene of wild confusion, the roar of gunsincessant, the air full of powder smoke, shells bursting here and there,and constantly the shouts of men. Ammunition wagons blocked the pike,soldiers thronging about them to stuff cartridges into emptied belts; abattery of artillery dashed past, recklessly scattering the surging massto left and right, as its horses, lashed into frenzy, plunged forwardtoward the fighting line; horsemen galloped back and forth, commanding,imploring, swearing, as they endeavored to reform the mob into a reservecolumn; riderless horses dashed about, resisting capture; and a runawayteam of mules, dragging behind the detached wheels of an army wagon,mowed a lane straight across the open field. Men lay everywheresleeping, so exhausted the dead and living looked alike; there wereghastly bandages, dust-caked faces, bloody uniforms, features blackenedby powder, and limping figures helped along by comrades. Emptyammunition wagons loaded again with wounded, went creaking slowly to therear, the sharp cries of suffering echoing above the infernal din. Justoutside the gate, under the tree shadows, was established a fieldhospital, a dozen surgeons working feverishly amid the medley of sounds.I had heretofore seen war from the front, in the excitement of battle,face to face with the enemy, but this sickened me. I felt my limbstremble, the perspiration bead my face. I now knew what war was,stripped of its glamour, hideous in its reality of suffering andcruelty. For a moment I felt remorse, fear, a cowardly desire to escape,to get away yonder, beyond the reek of powder, the cries of pain. Theawful vista gripped me as if by spectral fingers. But for the movementjust then of that cavalry regiment, recalling me to duty, I half believeI should have run, not from fright but to escape the horror.
They were moving forward past the front of the house, the men still onfoot, gripping the leather at their horses' bits, the restive animalsplunging so wildly as to make it seem more the advance of a mob than adisciplined body. A shell exploded in the road to their left, tearing ahole in the white pike, and showering them with stones. I could seebleeding faces where the flying gravel cut. Another shrieked above, andcame to earth just in front of the house, shattering the front stepsinto fragments, and leaving one of the wooden pillars hanging,unsupported. Yet with no halt or hesitancy, the gray mass moved slowlyacross the lawn, and then deliberately formed in line beneath the treesof the orchard. Their horses were led to the rear, and the men fell intorank at the sharp command of officers. Facing as they did I was left indoubt as to their purpose. Just inside the gate a battalion of infantrystood at parade rest, some of Johnston's men, I judged from theirappearance, who had held together. Beyond them a little group ofhorsemen had reined up on a knoll, and seemed to be studying thesurrounding country through field glasses. I could see the glitter ofthem in the sun.
Straight across the grass from the line of dismounted cavalry an officerrode, galloping through the dust of the pike, and trotting up theincline until he reached this distant group. I watched curiously as hepointed toward the house, and the others turned and looked. I coulddimly distinguish features, and realized the meaning of some of theirgestures. Then the cavalry-man turned his horse, and came trotting back.But now he rode directly up the gravelled driveway to the front of thehouse, a white rag flapping from the point of his uplifted sword. Thirtyfeet away he pulled up his horse, his eyes searching the house, and Istepped out on the porch roof. The broken pillar made me afraid toventure to the edge, but we were plainly in view of each other.
"Are you the Yank in command?" he asked brusquely, staring up at me.
"Yes."
He removed the rag from his sword, and thrust the weapon into itsscabbard.
"What force have you?"
I smiled, amused at his display of nerve.
"You will have to come in to discover that, my friend."
His naturally florid face reddened with anger.
"I'm not here to joke," he retorted. "General Chambers wishes me tooffer you a last opportunity to surrender without bloodshed."
"And if I refuse?"
"We shall attack at once, sir," haughtily. "A glance about will show youthe helplessness of your position."
I waited long enough to glance again over the scene. I was convincedthey possessed no artillery which could be spared from the front forthis small affair, and believed we were capable of making a strongdefence against musketry. With the exception of that battalion ofinfantry near the gate, and the cavalry regiment in the orchard, everyorganized body of troops was being hurried forward to strengthen theirline of battle. Even General Chambers and his staff had disappeared overthe hill, and every sound that reached us evidenced a warm engagement.The stream of wounded soldiers flowing back across the pike wasthickening, and Federal shells were already doing damage atthis distance.
"I thank you for your information," I said civilly, "but we shallendeavor to hold the house."
"You mean to fight!"
"Yes--if you wish this place you will have to come and take it."
He drew back his horse, yet with head turned, hopeful I might say more.But I stepped back through the window, and as I disappeared he clappedin his spurs, and rode out into the orchard. A moment later thedismounted troopers spread out into a thin line, covering the front andleft of the house, unslung their carbines and began to load. Somethingabout the way they went at it convinced me they expected no very seriousresistance. A word to my men on that floor brought them to the pointthreatened by this first attack, and I gave them swift, conciseorders--no firing until they heard a signal shot from the front hall;then keep it up while there was a man standing in range; carbines first,after that revolvers, and keep down out of sight from below. I lookedinto their faces, confident of obedience, and then ran down stairs.
Here the two sergeants--veterans both--had anticipated everything, andmassed their men at the windows facing front and left. They lay flat,protected in every possible way, and each man had an extra gun besidehim,
and a pile of cartridges. Mahoney was in the parlor, and Miles inthe hall, watchful of each movement without. I gave them theinstructions about withholding their fire, and, grasping a carbinemyself, pushed forward to where I could see outside. The troopers werealready moving, advancing slowly in open order, but came to a halt justwithin carbine range. At sharp command their guns came up, and theypoured a volley into the house. Beyond a shattering of glass no damagewas done, but under the cover of the smoke, the gray line leapedforward. I waited until they reached the gravel, and then pulledtrigger. Almost to the instant the whole front and side of the houseblazed into their very faces, not once only, but twice, three times, themen grabbing gun after gun. It was not in flesh and blood to stand it;the line crumbled up as though seared by fire, men fell prone, othersstaggered back blinded, and, almost before we realized, there remainednothing out there but a fleeing crowd, leaving behind their dead andwounded. Only three men had placed foot on the porch, and they lay theremotionless; one had grasped the sill of a window, and had fallen backwith a crushed skull. It was all over with so quickly that through thesmoke we looked at each other dazed, and then stared out at the flyingfigures. I groped my way from room to room, ordering a reloading of theguns, and asking if there were any injured. The walls were scarred bybullets much of the piled up furniture splintered, but only two men hadbeen hit, and their, wounds were slight.
"They'll try it again, lads," I said. "Get ready." There was no doubt ofthat, for they were old soldiers out yonder, and would never rest underthe stigma of defeat. But they were bound to be more cautious a secondtime, and would give us a harder tussle.
The fleeing men were rallied just beyond the negro cabins, cursed bytheir officers and driven back into line; then moved slowly forwardagain to their former position in the orchard. The sudden terror whichhad smitten them when the silent house burst into death flames, hadsomewhat worn off, and a desire for revenge succeeded. I could see theofficers passing back and forth talking and gesticulating. A dozentroopers under a flag of truce came forward to pick up the wounded, andwithout even challenging we permitted them to do their work. The houseremained quiet, sombre, silent, nothing showing but the dark barrels ofour carbines. The infantry battalion at the gate moved against the leftof the cavalry, and couriers were despatched to hurry up more. Out bythe negro quarters a dozen officers held council, pointing at thehouse, and by gestures designating a plan of attack. I think they sentfor artillery, but none came, and when one of the couriers returned andreported, bringing only another infantry battalion, it was decided todelay the attempt no longer. They formed this time in double line,sufficiently extended so as to cover the front and two sides of thehouse, with a squad concealed back of the stable, prepared to rush thekitchen and take us in the rear. It was not a bad plan had we misjudgedit, but the ground was so open nothing could be concealed. A wagon cameup with ammunition, and the men filled their belts. They moved forwardto within long firing distance, the cavalry covering the north side, onebattalion of infantry the south, and the other prepared to assail thefront. These latter began firing at once, their muskets easily coveringthe distance, although our lighter weapons were useless.
Yet, beyond keeping us down close to the floor and out of view, thispreliminary firing was but a waste of ammunition, the heavy balls merelybreaking what glass remained, and chugging harmlessly into the walls. Wewere ready and waiting, extra loaded guns beside each man, our nervesthrobbing with the excitement of battle, every trooper posted at somepoint of vantage for defence. For a few moments the formation of ourassailants was almost completely concealed behind the black musketrysmoke. All else was forgotten except our own part in the tragedy, eventhe thunder of artillery deadened by the continuous roll of small arms.Under the powder cloud the charging line sprang forward, determined toclose in upon us with one fierce dash, almost encircling the house. Thereserves elevated their guns, firing at the upper windows, while thosechosen for the assault leaped forward, yelling as they came. I scarcelyhad time to cry a warning, and to hear the echoing shouts of Miles andMahoney, before the gray line was on the gravel. It was then we struckthem, every window and door bursting into flame simultaneously, thedeadly lead poured into their very faces. We worked like fiends, thesmoke suffocating, firing as rapidly as we could lay hands to weapons,seeing nothing but the dim outline of gray-clad men, surging madlytoward us, or hurled back by the flame of our guns. It was hell,pandemonium, a memory blurred and indistinct; men, stricken to death,whirled and fell, others ran screaming; they stumbled over prostratebodies, and cursed wildly in an effort to advance. Now it was the sharpspit of revolvers, cracking in deadly chorus. All I knew occurreddirectly before me. A dozen or fifteen leaped to the porch floor,swinging a huge log against the barricaded door. I heard the crash ofit as it fell inward, the cry of men underneath. There was a rush offeet behind; the flame of revolvers seemed to sear my face, and the loglay on the porch floor, dead men clinging to it, and not a livinggray-jacket showing under the smoke.
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