David knelt behind the large stone and continued to reload. He felt a measure of guilt each time he watched the teen place himself in harm’s way. Each time Geoff fired and retreated, David breathed a sigh of relief, only to realize the next shot might be the teen’s last.
After nearly two hours of continuous firing, the two began to tire. Sgt. Cooper noticed their condition and shouted a new command over the roar of battle:
“Warner, Robbins, fire independently now. Y’all ‘ill get more shots in the air.”
“Yes Sir, sergeant,” both men responded.
David instantly picked up a loaded rifle, inhaled and stood. Without warning, his hat flew from his head as a bullet passed through the material, grazing his scalp. He dropped the rifle and fell backward on the ground.
“David!” Geoff shouted in panicked tone.
He dropped his rifle and knelt beside him. David pulled his hand from the side of his head and examined his fingers. Bright red blood lightly covered them.
“Oh my God! You’ve been shot… again,” Geoff shouted in disbelief.
Before David could speak, Sgt. Cooper ran to investigate. He grasped David’s head in his hands and cocked it toward the light.
“You’re lucky, Warner. That ball barely skinned ya. A little to the right and you would’ve been food for the worms tonight,” he said, smiling in relief. “Collect yourself, then get back to shootin’. We’ve almost whooped them Yankee dogs.”
“Yes Sir,” David responded, still somewhat dazed.
The sergeant nodded to Geoff, then picked up a rifle and got back to his station. Geoff reached for David’s hat and handed it to him.
“Man, maybe you better sit this one out a while. You don’t want to push your luck any further,” he said to David, sympathetically.
“If you’re firing, I’m firing,” David replied, resolutely.
He rolled to his feet, grabbed his rifle and prepared to fire. Inspired by his courage, Geoff did the same. Seconds later, both stood, fired, then retreated behind the boulder. Fifteen seconds later, they stood again and repeated their measure.
Sgt. Cooper glanced over at the two. As blood trickled down the side of David’s face, he watched him wipe it away and fire. He aimed himself, and also fired. As the three retreated behind the boulder to reload, he looked at David with admiration.
David hurried through his reload. As he brought the rifle up, he noticed the sergeant’s stare. David smiled slightly, then stood and fired. He looked back and noticed the sergeant still watching. Slowly, methodically, the sergeant tipped his hat in respect. For a brief moment, David smiled proudly. He nodded to the sergeant in thanks, then got back to work.
Out on the field, punishing rifle fire decimated the Union line. Unable to mount an effective charge, the Union commander sounded the retreat.
Minutes later, the long awaited command for the Confederates’ was sounded.
“Cease fire!”
Sgt. Cooper stared down his rifle and watched the Union line hurry north. Looking to his left, he watched David and Geoff breathe a sigh of relief. He smiled and spoke:
“How’s your head. Looks like you ain’t dribbling blood no more.”
David smirked at the sergeant’s grammar, then lightly rubbed his wound.
“I think the bleeding’s stopped. I’m sure I’ll be ok,” he responded.
Sgt. Cooper nodded and said, “Y’all done good boys. That was some mighty fine shootin’. I’d say y’all’ve earned a rest… but don’t get too comfy. Them Yanks ‘ill be back.”
-----*-----*-----*-----
The sun’s rays shined down upon the battlefield, warming the air and slowly burning off the morning fog. The Rebel line stared out across the field and waited for the enemy. As the minutes turned to hours, some stole a moment of relief as they convinced themselves the battle was over. Others waited anxiously for the inevitable.
By noon, with little word from command, most lay about their stations, their guard now lowered by inactivity and a false sense of security.
Sgt. Cooper ran up the skirmish line and headed toward the end by the cliff. Dodging trees and leaping over boulders, his intensity sent out an alarm to all who saw him. As he hurried up the hill, he shouted orders to his men to fall in.
“We’re all on the move again boys. Scouts saw some Yankees up on the ridge about a mile or so down yonder. We all ‘ill need to chase ‘em off a’fore they get any ideas of crossing over into our flank,” he said to David and Geoff, now rising to their feet.
“I thought there was no way to cross the ridge?” David asked.
“That’s what I thought too, but it seems them blue dogs is wilier than we all guessed.”
“Any idea how big the force is up there? Are we walking into an ambush?” Geoff asked, nervously.
“Don’t know. All’s the Lieutenant said was round up the troops. So grab your possibles boys. It’s time to give ole Billy Yank another thorough thrashin’,” he said confidently.
Without waiting for a response, he hurried back down the incline to manage the assembly of his men.
David looked over to Geoff and raised his eyebrows in concern.
“Just when I was about to take a nap,” he said sarcastically.
“Not funny,” Geoff returned, bluntly.
-----*-----*-----*-----
Lt. Bradford dismounted from his horse at the start of the steep rocky slope. Tying off the reins on a tree limb, he now led his company of men up the rugged mountain side. With their rifles slung over their shoulders, they clawed their way through brush and boulders, using an occasional tree to haul themselves up where they could. The higher they climbed, the greater the angle increased, slowing their pace as the men grew tired.
Geoff breathed heavy with each step he took. Sweat poured off his face. His fingers became clumped with lose dirt as the soil stuck to his perspiring hands. With his heart pounding, he slowed his pace.
“Holy Crap! I feel like my heart’s going to explode,” he said to David, moving just ahead of him. “How can they keep going like this?”
“Like I said before, these guys are tough as nails,” he replied over his shoulder. “Looks like we’re nearing the top. I’m sure they’ll stop and rest once they know all is clear.”
Geoff stopped by a cluster of large boulders. As the rest of the men continued, he shouted up to David, “I’ll catch up with you shortly. I just need to rest a minute.”
Breathing heavy himself, he acknowledged Geoff’s response with a wave and kept on moving higher. Moving through a set of boulders, David stopped a moment to rest. Looking up at the crest of the ridge a hundred feet away, he stared into the sun and squinted. Bringing his hand to his eyes, a shadowy figure was silhouetted against the light. As his eyes quickly adjusted to the brightness, shock swept his body.
“TAKE COVER!” he shouted in frantic tone, dropping to the ground between the boulders.
Instantly, thunder roared from the hilltop as the Union rifles unleashed their deadly payload. Down below, nearly two dozen men lay dead or wounded. Seconds later, another volley of lead raced down the hillside, killing five more men.
Sgt. Cooper pulled his pistol. Carefully peering around the side of the stone, he covered his eyes and squinted with intensity. High above, he saw movement near some boulders. Bringing his handgun around quickly, he aimed and fired. Suddenly, a Union soldier shrieked as the bullet passed through his shoulder.
“Fire at will,” he shouted loudly.
Before the company of men could move, another round of fire echoed from the hilltop. Several more bullets hit their mark. Those that didn’t, ricocheted off the boulders. As the Union soldiers reloaded, the remaining Confederates unleashed their first volley. With the sun in their eyes, all shots went wide.
Again, Union rifles came to life. Down below, two more men were struck by bullets.
“Lieutenant!” Sgt. Cooper shouted.
No answer.
“Lieutenant Bradford,” he c
alled out again over another volley from the Union soldiers.
“Sir, I think he’s dead,” came a voice higher up the mountain.
Sgt. Cooper seethed with anger.
“Company, fire your weapons,” he demanded. “Get them damn Yankees.”
Risking death, the company of men moved into the open and fired on the enemy. The Union soldiers took advantage of the Rebel’s exposure and fired another round. Instinctively, the Confederate men ducked for cover. Only too late, a half dozen more men fell to their deaths.
David tried to move once more but heard the sound of bullets bouncing off the rock that protected him.
Suddenly, another volley of Union lead hurled down the mountain.
“Sarge, we’re pinned down. What are we going to do? They’re cutting us to ribbons,” David shouted, up the hill.
Two hundred feet below, Geoff moved to the edge of his boulder and stuck his rifle up through some low-level brush. Aiming carefully, he pulled the trigger. Instantly, a Union man cried out and agony and fell.
Sgt. Cooper looked down the mountain. Unable to locate the source, he aimed his pistol back at the Union men at the top. As he pulled the trigger, another round from Union soldiers was unleashed.
“Dang it,” he cried out as bits of stone shattered off his boulder and into his cheek as a bullet ricocheted off it.
Suddenly from below, another round was fired. Up above, another Union soldier lay dead. David searched for Geoff, but couldn’t see him.
As Union fire continued non-stop, a single Confederate rifle fired every fifteen seconds.
“It’s Geoff,” David whispered under his breath. “It’s got to be.”
Down below, Geoff reloaded again. Under the cover of heavy brush he stuck his rifle through it, lined up his target and fire. A second later, another Union soldier lay dead.
Over and over, he stealthily picked his targets. Each time, his bullet struck with deadly accuracy. Soon, the Union company above ran for cover. As they now peered around their own boulders, Confederate men picked them off one by one.
“Y’all keep firing. We’re slowin’ them blue dogs down,” Sgt. Cooper shouted, his voice now growing in enthusiasm.
He watched two Union men come to a kneeling position and fire. Even before they could lower their rifles, Sgt. Cooper got off two rounds from his pistol. Up above, two more men fell forward and slid down the steep terrain, coming to rest against other boulders below.
Within a half hour, the sounds from above had ceased. Sgt. Cooper stood cautiously. Looking up ahead, he raced to another boulder ten feet uphill. As he hid behind it, he scanned for enemy movement.
“Nothing,” he said to himself.
Again, he picked another boulder uphill. In a quick dash, he charged to it, nearly diving behind it as he neared. Lying on his stomach, he looked to his side. Anger welled inside him as he stared into the lifeless eyes of Lt. Bradford. He took a deep breath and peered around the boulder. Seeing no movement above, he continued his push for the top.
Over and over, he repeated his advance. Twenty feet from the top, he stood up and walked. He pulled his long knife from his sheath and held it in his right hand while gripping the pistol in his left. Slowly, cautiously, he took a step, then listened. His focus was intense.
He climbed several more feet up and stopped abruptly. Just feet from the top, he saw bodies. Dressed in blue uniform, the men lay dead. He breathed a sigh of relief. Taking another step, he heard a rifle hammer cock.
Instinctively, he spun and threw his knife. A guttural cry sounded out just feet from him. Looking off to his side, a Union private breathed out his last breath. Sgt. Cooper quickly scanned the rest of them men. All lay dead.
“All clear,” he shouted down the mountain side.
Slowly, apprehensively, his company of men began to emerge from their hiding. Still on guard he scanned the opposite side of the hill.
“Hmm gone, just as I suspected. Bunch a cowards,” he said to himself.
Turning confidently now, he watched his men climb the hill to the top. As Geoff emerged from behind the pack, he smiled broadly.
“That was great shootin’ again there Robbins. You done good,” he said loudly for all to hear.
“Just earning my keep,” he shot back.
David smiled from ear to ear, proud of the teen’s coolness under fire.
“They really should give you a medal for this. You basically saved us all,” he said to Geoff proudly, slapping him on the back.
“No problemo’,” Geoff responded modestly.
Staring down the hill, Sgt Cooper looked at his Confederate comrades that now lay dead.
“Them blue scum got Lt. Bradford too… poor feller,” he responded sympathetically.
He looked around once more and then shouted, “Ok boys, the general ‘ill need to hear about this news, pronto. We better make double-time back to camp. Grab your possibles and head down, now.”
Geoff looked to David. Still out of breath, he joked, “Well, at least it’s downhill this time.”
“Downhill and out of danger,” David added with relief.
Sgt. Cooper piped up from behind, “Only for the moment fellers. Keep y’alls guard up. I seen lots of fellers get themselves kilt with talk like that. Stay sharp.”
-----*-----*-----*-----
The following day broke clear and warm. Aside from birds singing, the area was quiet… strangely quiet.
Gen. Johnston sat in his tent and studied the reports from his officers while he ate his breakfast. In between bites from his eggs and ham, he transcribed the data onto the map of the region. With all the information recorded, he sat back in his canvas chair, sipped his coffee and analyzed the map.
Suddenly, he heard the sound of hooves galloping at full speed. As the sound grew louder, he rose from his seat with suspicion. He moved to the tent’s exit, threw open the flap and peered outside.
The Confederate army scout hauled back on his reins, bringing his horse to an abrupt stop. He leapt from the saddle and rushed to the general as he stood in his doorway.
“Gen. Johnston Sir, Cpl. Lansing reporting,” he shouted excitedly as he hurried.
“What is it?” Gen. Johnston responded, now growing anxious.
“Gen. Sherman’s gone… heading south through the valley on the other side of this ridge,” Cpl. Lansing blurted, then added, “and he’s moving fast.”
Gen. Johnston’s face lost all expression. Fear raced through his mind. Instantly, he pushed the useless emotion deep inside his mind and concentrated on his next move.
“South… moving fast,” the general said, restating the facts. “I’m guessing he plans to march to Rome, then backtrack up on this side of the valley.”
Gen. Johnston smiled wily and continued, “We’ve got him now. It’ll take him at least three days to push his army through that rugged terrain… and we can make it in two. We’ll be waiting for him,” he finished, his eyes now filled with intensity.
“Sir, there’s more,” Cpl. Lansing said. “There’s another small breech in the ridge.”
“Another breech? Where?” he demanded.
“About five miles south of here. I found it yesterday while scouting…”
“Five miles? Near Resaca?” he said, cutting off the scout in mid-sentence.
“Yes Sir,” he shot back.
“Come with me,” Gen. Johnston said.
Quickly, he spun around and re-entered his tent. Rushing to his desk, he examined his map of the area.
Following close behind the general, Cpl. Lansing said, “Sir, while I was scouting the pass, I found a route up through the valley on the other side. I made it up about halfway.”
“Halfway? What stopped you? Another mountain ridge?” he speculated.
“No Sir. It was the enemy. I met one of their scouts as I was heading north.”
“You saw one of their scouts?” he asked with surprised.
“Yes Sir,” the Corporal replied simply.
&
nbsp; “What happened to him? You didn’t let him get away, did you?”
The corporal glanced to the general with an icy stare, conveying his deadly message.
Gen. Johnston nodded in understanding. “Yes, I see,” he responded simply. A moment later, reality struck him. “Do you think he was able to inform Gen. Sherman of the mountain pass before he met his demise?”
“I think so, Sir. After I kilt him, I ran into a column of men heading south. They weren’t Gen. Sherman’s full army though… just a company of men, around a hundred or so in size.”
Prisoner in Time (Time travel) Page 27
