B00HSFFI1Q EBOK

by Unknown

  “Thank you for your trouble sergeant.” We descended towards Plum Run. Once we reached the dead ground out of sight of both sides I halted. “I think we can get rid of this.”

  “It seems a shame to waste these musket balls, sir.” Trooper Duffy looked ruefully at the US Army packing case.

  He was right. “Break it open and we will carry what we can. “ We both had haversacks and they could carry a fair weight of musket balls. Once we had taken as many as we could we emptied the rest into Plum Run. I wondered if they would ever be discovered.

  It was much easier to move now but, unfortunately the attacks had begun and we heard muskets popping away occasionally punctuated by the boom of a cannon. “Well Duffy we are now in the lap of the gods. I don’t know how we are going to get across the Yank lines.”

  We moved up the slope towards the Emmitsburg Pike. I could see the blue coats of the Irish Brigade. Their backs were to us. I saw that the line ended some hundred yards to our left. I pointed up the slope and we crabbed our way across the hill. We were just beyond the last man. “If we move down there we can ditch these uniforms and cross into our lines.”Although we were not wearing Confederate uniforms, we would not be marked as Yankees by showing blue uniforms.

  I found a dell and we crouched down to take off our jackets. We had barely done so when I heard a voice behind me. “Are you two deserting?”

  There was a patrol of five men. They were five yards away, no more. Our disguises would not work now and I had to take the offensive. I nodded to Duffy and raised my Enfield. I knew it was loaded but I would only have one shot. The bullet slammed into the sergeant and I thrust forwards with my bayonet at the man behind him. He was taken by surprise and the blade slid into his side. He was a strong man and he wrenched the rifle from my hands. Duffy had killed one man but a second was raising his gun to shoot. I picked up the haversack containing the musket balls and hurled it at him. The lead missile smashed into the side of his skull. I drew my pistol and shot the soldier who was pointing his musket at me. It was a smoothbore. If he had pulled the trigger then I would be dead. I just managed to fire it before he did and his face disappeared.

  I heard a cry from behind me and saw Trooper Duffy being bayoneted in the arm. I swung the Colt and killed his assailant before he could give the coup de grace. I slung the haversack over my shoulder and then picked up Duffy. The wound was bleeding but not heavily. I threw him over my shoulder.

  “Leave me sir.”

  “Not on your life. We don’t have far to go.” I had just stood when I heard a pistol sound behind me. “I expected the thud of a bullet but there was nothing. “What the hell was that?”

  “The man you bayoneted tried to shoot you.”

  “Thank you, trooper. You have just saved both of our lives.”

  We were not out of the woods yet. The firing had alerted both the Irish Brigade and our men. I struggled up the hill. The added weight made it doubly difficult. “They are chasing us sir.”

  “Keep firing. It may keep their heads down.”

  I could not see our men but I knew they must be close. I yelled, in desperation, “1st Virginia Scouts coming in. I have a wounded man.”

  The silence ahead was ominous until suddenly a line of muskets appeared and they fired. I heard the cries from the Yankees following as we crashed into our front lines. As I lay, with Duffy still draped across my shoulders I heard a familiar voice say, “Well sir, you are still Lucky Jack.”

  I looked up at Sergeant Ritchie. We had made it. While he and the other troopers took Duffy to the doctor I hurried to headquarters. General Hill was outside of his tent and was conferring with his senior commanders. His aide looked up as I approached, “It’s Captain Hogan!”

  Every face turned towards me. “Well Captain, what news for me?”

  I went to the map. “Here they have built barriers to protect their flank. Along the ridge they have eighty guns at least.” I ran my finger along the Emmitsburg road. “Here they are thinly defended but the Third Corps is about to march here,” I pointed to the wheat field.

  “You are certain?”

  “I heard General Sickles himself give the order. Their cannon will not be able to support him.”

  General Hill slapped his hand, “Order General McLaws to sweep the Third Corps from the field.” As the messenger galloped off he turned to me, “Well done, Captain Hogan. That may be the turning point that we needed.”

  I reached the camp when Sergeant Ritchie was returning from the infirmary. “How is Duffy?”

  “He might lose the arm but at least he is alive. If you hadn’t carried him back then he might have died, sir.”

  I felt exhausted but it was barely past mid morning. There were men dying out there. “Get the men mounted; we’ll see what we can do to expedite matters.”

  By the time I had donned my uniform my men were ready to ride. The day already seemed to have lasted a lifetime and yet the first attacks against Cemetery Ridge were just beginning.

  We headed for the Emmitsburg road. Already General Hill’s men were pushing the blue coated regiments back to Cemetery ridge. I could see General McLaws infantry driving towards the Third Corps who were isolated between the Peach Orchard and the wheat field. This was where General Stuart and his cavalry would have been invaluable. They were not there and we were. We would have to do the job.

  “Sergeant Jones, we will ride down Plum Run and see if we can surprise them on their flank.”

  We passed the first casualties who were returning from the attack on the ridge. The cannon might not be able to support General Sickles but they still turned Plum Run into a Valley of Death. I forced myself to ignore the carnage. We could do little about that but we could ease the pressure at the southern end of our line. The smoke had filled the valley and made it easier for us to move in the dead ground without being seen. We must have been the leading Confederates in this area. When we reached the wall lining the road I halted the company. “Dismount, horse holders!”

  We crouched behind the wall of the road which dissected the wheat field from the orchard. The troopers took up a position behind the wall. As I peered over I saw the men of the Third Corps trying to form lines to face the advancing infantry. They were being decimated by the fire from the cannon. They might have been old fashioned smooth bore cannon but they were close enough to be able to use canister.

  “Ready! Fire!”

  My handful of men rose and began to fire into the flanks of the soldiers who now found themselves assaulted from two directions. When they tried to turn to face us we had the wall to protect us. This was where I missed my carbine. My pistol would be ineffective at this range and the Enfield I had had still remained with the dead Irishmen.

  A company of infantry were ordered to charge us. “Stand to! They are charging.” I drew my Colt and began firing at the infantry who ran with their bayonets towards us. I holstered my empty gun and drew my second. They were so close now that I could not miss but there were so many of them that I soon had an empty gun. I drew my sabre and retained the pistol in my left hand.

  “Hold them boys!” A private thrust his bayonet at me; I struck the deadly blade away from me with my Colt and slashed him across the neck with my sabre. He fell dead. A second private climbed the wall and prepared to stab down at me. I swung my sabre sideways and it sliced through his leg. He fell screaming on to four men on the other side. I used the small lull to put my empty pistol in my belt and draw my last loaded gun. I leaned over and emptied it into the huddle of men who were struggling to rise from the other side of the wall.

  I saw Sergeant Ritchie trying to fend off three attackers with his sword. He was isolated. I threw myself bodily at them with my sword held before me. We fell in a heap. My sword had impaled one of them but was stuck. I let go of it and drew my knife from my boot. I stabbed blindly in the direction of the blue uniform before me. I felt it strike something and I heard a scream and I twisted the blade. The scream became higher but I was able to
withdraw my knife. I sensed something from my left and I swung my empty Colt. It crashed satisfyingly into something solid and I saw a private lying, holding his head. Sergeant Ritchie thrust his sword into his neck and we stood. His side was bleeding but he could, at least, stand.

  “Thank you sir. I guess I owe you my life.”

  “We have no time for that now.” I looked along the line. We had held but only just. The infantry were falling back in disorder. Suddenly I heard the rebel yell and General McLaws men fell upon the disordered Third Corps. They could not stand and they either fled or surrendered.

  “We’re done here. Let’s see the butcher’s bill.”

  As we rode back along Plum Run and then up the ridge I reflected that we had done our duty but there were five troopers who would lie forever in that charnel house of the Valley of Death.

  We had some good news when we returned to General Hill’s camp. His aide greeted us warmly. “Well done Captain Hogan. I heard that you helped to destroy their attack. The general thanks you. And we have some good news for you too. General Stuart and his men are in Gettysburg.”

  My smile must have shown my feelings. “I am afraid you will not be able to rejoin them just yet. General Hill has another task for you first. Your men can return to their regiment but we need you to slip behind their lines again tonight.”

  Sergeant Ritchie’s face fell, “That’s not fair sir. The captain needs some rest.”

  The major did not know what to make of it and he looked at me for help. “Sergeant, that is enough. If the general needs me again then I will oblige him. We all obey orders don’t we?”

  His face assumed the look of someone who has just sucked a particularly sour lemon, “Yes sir.”

  “Ready the men but wait until I have been briefed before you return to the regiment.”

  As we walked to the general’s tent the major mused, “Are all your men as loyal as that one captain?”

  “Most of them sir. We tend to operate outside of the main army and it breeds a familiarity which might appear unusual. I apologise for the sergeant. He means well.”

  He shook his head, “No, I find it refreshing. Here at staff we see too much politicking. I would prefer to be as you are with men who fight for you and not merely with you.”

  I remembered how near the sergeant and I had come to death not more than two hours earlier. “Believe me sir, the politicking will not get you killed!”

  He laughed, “You are probably right.”

  “Captain Hogan. I am sorry to call upon your services again but I need someone to go behind their lines and find out how much ammunition they have for their cannon.”

  I frowned, “But sir, I told you this morning; they have plenty of cannon and more than enough ammunition to fire all week. I can go back but I will be bringing the same message.”

  General Hill looked over to General Anderson, “This appears to contradict what you believe General Anderson.”

  General Anderson shrugged. “All I said was they did not fire their guns as often as I expected them to. I believe they were conserving their ammunition because they were running out.”

  General Hill stroked his beard and went to the map. “It could be that they were conserving their ammunition because they intend to launch an attack. Captain Hogan, are you sure about what you saw?”

  “I had breakfast with the men and the supplies. I clearly saw the ammunition for the cannon.”

  “I trust your judgement. You and your men may return to your regiment sir. Thank you for your valiant efforts. I will go and see General Lee. This changes things.”

  As I walked back to my men I heard the battle still raging at the southern end of our lines where General Longstreet and his men were still trying to winkle the Yankees out from the warren of rocks known as the Devil’s Den. This battle had already lasted two days and I wondered how long men would bleed for this desolate piece of land.

  “Sergeant Ritchie, you will be pleased to know that I am no longer required to go behind the enemy lines. We return to the regiment.”

  He must have told the men of my impending mission for they all gave a huge cheer. I shook my head and mounted Copper.

  Chapter 15

  Gettysburg- Day 3

  Attribution: Map by Hal Jespersen

  We took the Emmitsburg Road to get to Gettysburg. I knew that General Stuart would have the grandest house in Gettysburg for his headquarters. We found it quickly. Dago was outside enjoying a cigar when we arrived. He yelped his delight.

  “I knew it; I told the boys that Lucky Jack would still be alive.”

  I shrugged, “What else did you expect? Where are the men camped?”

  He saw Sergeant Jones behind me, “Half a mile north of town, sergeant.”

  I dismounted, “Take Copper with you sergeant and I will report to the colonel.”

  I strode up the steps as my depleted troop trotted off. I watched them as they departed. “You had it rough eh Jack?”

  I nodded, “Yeah. We were chased all the way to Gettysburg and we have been doing the job of a regiment since we got here. And you?”

  “I think the Yankees have the measure of General Stuart. They held us at Hanover and at Hunterstown today. They have a golden haired general who is the model of Stuart with bells on.” His face became serious. “We lost Jed and some good men the other day.”

  I could not believe it. Jed was one of the last of the original Wildcats. Now there were just five of us left, the colonel, Harry, Danny, Dago and me. All the rest littered Virginia, Maryland and now Pennsylvania. I had thought that Jed would survive this war and I wondered about the rest of us.

  “And I found out where that Irishman is who put a bounty on our heads.” I pointed to the south. “He is less than two miles away.”

  “And that might as well be on the moon. There must be fifty thousand men on this battlefield. At least that’s what the colonel said.”

  “You had better take me to him so that I can report.”

  The senior officers Wade Hampton, Fitzhugh–Lee and the colonels of all the regiments, were all gathered in the dining room. It was crowded and smoky and smelled of stale alcohol. They had all been drinking and bottles littered the floor. I couldn’t help comparing this with the men who had just fought to try to take Cemetery Ridge and making do with stale bread and salty pork. There was little justice in this world.

  Colonel Boswell saw me and walked unsteadily towards me, “Its Lucky Jack! Now we know we can win this battle!”

  Everyone cheered and I felt sick to my stomach. To these men it was a game but to the poor troopers like Trooper Duffy, this was life and death. If he lost his arm Duffy would be crippled and would not be as lucky as old Stumpy. He would have to eke out a living. If any of these officers lost a limb he would be rich enough for it not to affect him.

  “Sir, Captain Hogan reporting. General Hill has no further need of me.”

  “Excellent Jack.” Give the general your assessment of the battle thus far.”

  The room went silent and I realised that Dago and I were the only ones who were still sober. I sighed and explained what we had done. I told them of the Union resources I had discovered and the good defensive position the Yankees had created. None of them seemed at all put out by that.

  “Don’t worry Captain Hogan. We will strike tomorrow and defeat these damn Yankees. This upstart Custer will learn who the better general is!”

  I wanted to leave that instant. This was all about egos. It was not about the south or the war; it was like Ireland all over again. The rich ruled and the poor suffered. Here the officers prospered while ordinary men died. Many of the generals I knew did not survive the war but it galled me that even incompetents like General Sickles, who, although he had lost a leg that day, had a great political career ahead of him. The men who lay in the wheat field had nothing.

  I went outside with Dago. “How did Jed die?”

  “It was at Hanover. We ended up charging and their horse artillery
scythed into Jed and his troop. There weren’t many survivors.”

  “How did Danny take it?”

  Dago pointed to the north. “He’s not here is he? He is in the camp with Harry and the men. Colonel Boswell spends more time with the other colonels than with us.”

  I looked at him. “And why are you here?”

  He looked hurt for a moment then his shoulders sagged. “All the other colonels have an aide. I am only a lieutenant. I got the short straw.” I could hear the bitterness in his voice.

  “Never mind, Dago. I will keep you company.” I looked to the south were we could still see the flashes of muskets in the Devil’s Den. “We don’t know how many more of these moments we will have.” I sat on the stoop. “I never even got to say goodbye to him.”

  “Neither did I. That is a luxury we don’t have.” He pointed upwards. “He is up there and he is watching us.”

  “You believe that?”

  Dago looked at me seriously, “We don’t talk about God and stuff like that but I know that you believe that your mom is watching over you.” I could not deny it and I nodded. “Then Jed is up there too and that gives me some comfort. He’ll be watching our backs tomorrow. The battlefield is no place for an atheist.”

  We carried our drunken colonel back to our camp. The general’s aide, who had not drunk as much as General Stuart, told us that we would not be operating with the Corps the following day but we had a special mission. My heart sank as we dragged our leader home. Special missions normally meant that my friends died.

  We were up before dawn the next day. Harry threw his arms around me. “I couldn’t believe it when Jed got killed. I thought we were special and nothing could touch us. The Wildcats are becoming fewer in number.”

  “I know. Listen Harry; let’s not take as many chances now. I am not sure that it is worth it.”

  He laughed, “It never was. Remember Jack, that the colonel, when he was plain Mr Boswell, took us and gave us a life when we had nothing. You would still have been aboard the Rose, or drowned; who knows. Me? I would be either a drunk or dead in some bar fight. Jed and Dago are the same. So long as the colonel fights then we have to as well, because we owe him. Not the Confederacy and not General Jeb Stuart but James Boswell.” He shook his head. “We can do nothing about that. Danny and I talked about this last night before you and Dago came back. Life is a great adventure. Don’t over think it. We do this job and then you go and find your sister Caitlin.”