Chapter 39
My regiment left New York by night in a flare of torch and rocket. Thestreets were lined with crowds now hardened to the sound of fife anddrum and the pomp of military preparation. I had a very high and mightyfeeling in me that wore away in the discomfort of travel. For hoursafter the train started we sang and told stories, and ate peanuts andpulled and hauled at each other in a cloud of tobacco smoke. The trainwas sidetracked here and there, and dragged along at a slow pace.
Young men with no appreciation, as it seemed to me, of the sad businesswe were off upon, went roistering up and down the aisles, drinking outof bottles and chasing around the train as it halted. These revellersgrew quiet as the night wore on. The boys began to close their eyesand lie back for rest. Some lay in the aisle, their heads upon theirknapsacks. The air grew chilly and soon I could hear them snoring allabout me and the chatter of frogs in the near marshes. I closed my eyesand vainly courted sleep. A great sadness had lain hold of me. I hadalready given up my life for my country--I was only going away now toget as dear a price for it as possible in the hood of its enemies. Whenand where would it be taken? I wondered. The fear had mostly gone outof me in days and nights of solemn thinking. The feeling I had, with itsflavour of religion, is what has made the volunteer the mighty soldierhe has ever been, I take it, since Naseby and Marston Moor. The soul isthe great Captain, and with a just quarrel it will warm its sword in theenemy, however he may be trained to thrust and parry. In my sacrificethere was but one reservation--I hoped I should not be horribly cut witha sword or a bayonet. I had written a long letter to Hope, who was yetat Leipzig. I wondered if she would care what became of me. I got asense of comfort thinking I would show her that I was no coward, withall my littleness. I had not been able to write to Uncle Eb or to myfather or mother in any serious tone of my feeling in this enterprise.I had treated it as a kind of holiday from which I should return shortlyto visit them.
All about me seemed to be sleeping--some of them were talking in theirdreams. As it grew light, one after another rose and stretched himself,rousing his seat companion. The train halted, a man shot a musket voicein at the car door. It was loaded with the many syllables of 'AnnapolisJunction'. We were pouring out of the train shortly, to bivouac forbreakfast in the depot yard. So I began the life of a soldier, and howit ended with me many have read in better books than this, but my storyof it is here and only here.
We went into camp there on the lonely flats of east Maryland for a dayor two, as we supposed, but really for quite two weeks. In the longdelay that followed, my way traversed the dead levels of routine. WhenSouthern sympathy had ceased to wreak its wrath upon the railroads aboutBaltimore we pushed on to Washington. There I got letters from Uncle Eband Elizabeth Brower. The former I have now in my box of treasures--atorn and faded remnant of that dark period.
DEAR SIR 'pen in hand to hat you know that we are all wel. also that wewas sorry you could not come horn. They took on terribul. Hope she wrotea letter. Said she had not herd from you. also that somebody wrote toher you was goin to be married. You had oughter write her a letter,Bill. Looks to me so you hain't used her right. Shes a comm horn inJuly. Sowed corn to day in the gardin. David is off byin catul. I hopeGod will take care uv you, boy, so goodbye from yours truly
EBEN HOLDEN
I wrote immediately to Uncle Eb and told him of the letters I had sentto Hope, and of my effort to see her.
Late in May, after Virginia had seceded, some thirty thousand of us weresent over to the south side of the Potomac, where for weeks we tore theflowery fields, lining the shore with long entrenchments.
Meantime I wrote three letters to Mr Greeley, and had the satisfactionof seeing them in the Tribune. I took much interest in the camp drill,and before we crossed the river I had been raised to the rank of firstlieutenant. Every day we were looking for the big army of Beauregard,camping below Centreville, some thirty miles south.
Almost every night a nervous picket set the camp in uproar bychallenging a phantom of his imagination. We were all impatient ashounds in leash. Since they would not come up and give us battle wewanted to be off and have it out with them. And the people were tired ofdelay. The cry of 'ste'boy!' was ringing all over the north. They wantedto cut us loose and be through with dallying.
Well, one night the order came; we were to go south in themorning--thirty thousand of us, and put an end to the war. We did notget away until afternoon--it was the 6th of July. When we were off,horse and foot, so that I could see miles of the blue column before andbehind me, I felt sorry for the mistaken South. On the evening of the18th our camp-fires on either side of the pike at Centreville glowedlike the lights of a city. We knew the enemy was near, and began to feela tightening of the nerves. I wrote a letter to the folks at home forpost mortem delivery, and put it into my trousers pocket. A friend in mycompany called me aside after mess.
'Feel of that,' he said, laying his hand on a full breast.
'Feathers!' he whispered significantly. 'Balls can't go through 'em, yeknow. Better n a steel breastplate! Want some?
'Don't know but I do,' said I.
We went into his tent, where he had a little sack full, and put a goodwad of them between my two shirts.
'I hate the idee o'bein'hit 'n the heart,' he said. 'That's too awful.
I nodded my assent.
'Shouldn't like t'have a ball in my lungs, either,' he added. ''Tain'tnecessary fer a man t'die if he can only breathe. If a man gits hisleg shot off an' don't lose his head an' keeps drawin' his breath rightalong smooth an even, I don't see why he can't live.
Taps sounded. We went asleep with our boots on, but nothing happened.
Three days and nights we waited. Some called it a farce, some swore,some talked of going home. I went about quietly, my bosom under its padof feathers. The third day an order came from headquarters. We wereto break camp at one-thirty in the morning and go down the pikeafter Beauregard. In the dead of the night the drums sounded. I rose,half-asleep, and heard the long roll far and near. I shivered in thecold night air as I made ready, the boys about me buckled on knapsacks,shouldered their rifles, and fell into line. Muffled in darkness therewas an odd silence in the great caravan forming rapidly and waiting forthe word to move. At each command to move forward I could hear onlythe rub of leather, the click, click of rifle rings, the stir of thestubble, the snorting of horses. When we had marched an hour or so Icould hear the faint rumble of wagons far in the rear. As I came high ona hill top, in the bending column, the moonlight fell upon a leagueof bayonets shining above a cloud of dust in the valley--a splendidpicture, fading into darkness and mystery. At dawn we passed a bridgeand halted some three minutes for a bite. After a little march we leftthe turnpike, with Hunter's column bearing westward on a crossroad thatled us into thick woods. As the sunlight sank in the high tree-tops thefirst great battle of the war began. Away to the left of us a cannonshook the earth, hurling its boom into the still air. The sound rushedover us, rattling in the timber like a fall of rocks. Something wentquivering in me. It seemed as if my vitals had gone into a big lumpof jelly that trembled every step I took. We quickened our pace; wefretted, we complained. The weariness went out of our legs; some wantedto run. Before and behind us men were shouting hotly, 'Run, boys! run!'The cannon roar was now continuous. We could feel the quake of it. Whenwe came over a low ridge, in the open, we could see the smoke of battlein the valley. Flashes of fire and hoods of smoke leaped out of the farthickets, left of us, as cannon roared. Going at double quick we beganloosening blankets and haversacks, tossing them into heaps along theline of march, without halting. In half an hour we stood waiting inbattalions, the left flank of the enemy in front. We were to charge ata run. Half-way across the valley we were to break into companies and,advancing, spread into platoons and squads, and at last into line ofskirmishers, lying down for cover between rushes.
'Forward!' was the order, and we were off, cheering as we ran. O, it wasa grand sight! our colours flying, our whole front
moving, like a bluewave on a green, immeasurable sea. And it had a voice like that of manywaters. Out of the woods ahead of us came a lightning flash. A ring ofsmoke reeled upward. Then came a deafening crash of thunders--one uponanother, and the scream of shells overhead. Something stabbed into ourcolumn right beside me. Many went headlong, crying out as they fell.Suddenly the colours seemed to halt and sway like a tree-top in thewind. Then down they went!--squad and colours--and we spread to passthem. At the order we halted and laid down and fired volley after volleyat the grey coats in the edge of the thicket A bullet struck in thegrass ahead of me, throwing a bit of dirt into my eyes. Another brushedmy hat off and I heard a wailing death yell behind me. The colonel rodeup waving a sword.
'Get up an' charge!' he shouted.
On we went, cheering loudly, firing as we ran, Bullets went by mehissing in my ears, and I kept trying to dodge them. We dropped againflat on our faces.
A squadron of black-horse cavalry came rushing out of the woods at us,the riders yelling as they waved their swords. Fortunately we had nottime to rise. A man near me tried to get up.
'Stay down!' I shouted.
In a moment I learned something new about horses. They went over us likea flash. I do not think a man was trampled. Our own cavalry kept thembusy as soon as they had passed.
Of the many who had started there was only a ragged remnant near me. Wefired a dozen volleys lying there. The man at my elbow rolled upon me,writhing like a worm in the fire.
'We shall all be killed!' a man shouted. 'Where is the colonel?'
'Dead,' said another.
'Better retreat,' said a third.
'Charge!' I shouted as loudly as ever I could, jumping to my feet andwaving my sabre as I rushed forward. 'Charge!'
It was the one thing needed--they followed me. In a moment we had hurledourselves upon the grey line thrusting with sword and bayonet.
They broke before us--some running, some fighting desperately.
A man threw a long knife at me out of a sling. Instinctively I caughtthe weapon as if it had been a ball hot off the bat. In doing so Idropped my sabre and was cut across the fingers. He came at me fiercely,clubbing his gun--a raw-boned, swarthy giant, broad as a barn door. Icaught the barrel as it came down. He tried to wrench it away, but Iheld firmly. Then he began to push up to me. I let him come, and in amoment we were grappling hip and thigh. He was a powerful man, but thatwas my kind of warfare. It gave me comfort when I felt the grip of hishands. I let him tug a jiffy, and then caught him with the old hiplock,and he went under me so hard I could hear the crack of his bones. Oursupport came then. We made him prisoner, with some two hundred othermen. Reserves came also and took away the captured guns. My comradesgathered about me, cheering, but I had no suspicion of what they meant.I thought it a tribute to my wrestling. Men lay thick there back of theguns--some dead, some calling faintly for help. The red puddles aboutthem were covered with flies; ants were crawling over their faces. Ifelt a kind of sickness and turned away.
What was left of my regiment formed in fours to join the advancingcolumn. Horses were galloping riderless, rein and stirrup flying, somehorribly wounded. One hobbled near me, a front leg gone at the knee.
Shells were flying overhead; cannonballs were ricocheting over the levelvalley, throwing turf in the air, tossing the dead and wounded that laythick and helpless.
Some were crumpled like a rag, as if the pain of death had witheredthem in their clothes; some swollen to the girth of horses; some bentbackward, with arms outreaching like one trying an odd trick, somelay as if listening eagerly, an ear close to the ground; some like asleeper, their heads upon their arms; one shrieked loudly, gesturingwith bloody hands, 'Lord God Almighty, have mercy on me!
I had come suddenly to a new world, where the lives of men were cheaperthan blind puppies. I was a new sort of creature, and reckless of whatcame, careless of all I saw and heard.
A staff officer stepped up to me as we joined the main body.
'You ve been shot, young man,' he said, pointing to my left hand.
Before he could turn I felt a rush of air and saw him fly into pieces,some of which hit me as I fell backward. I did not know what hadhappened; I know not now more than that I have written. I rememberfeeling something under me, like a stick of wood, bearing hard upon myribs. I tried to roll off it, but somehow, it was tied to me and kepthurting. I put my hand over my hip and felt it there behind me--my ownarm! The hand was like that of a dead man--cold and senseless. I pulledit from under me and it lay helpless; it could not lift itself. I knewnow that I, too, had become one of the bloody horrors of the battle.
I struggled to my feet, weak and trembling, and sick with nausea. I musthave been lying there a long time. The firing was now at a distance: thesun had gone half down the sky. They were picking up the wounded in thenear field. A man stood looking at me. 'Good God!' he shouted, and thenran away like one afraid. There was a great mass of our men back of mesome twenty rods. I staggered toward them, my knees quivering.
'I can never get there,' I heard myself whisper.
I thought of my little flask of whiskey, and, pulling the cork with myteeth, drank the half of it. That steadied me and I made better headway.I could hear the soldiers talking as I neared them.
'Look a there!' I heard many saying. 'See 'em come! My God! Look at 'emon the hill there!
The words went quickly from mouth to mouth. In a moment I could hear themurmur of thousands. I turned to see what they were looking at. Acrossthe valley there was a long ridge, and back of it the main positionof the Southern army. A grey host was pouring over it--thousand uponthousand--in close order, debouching into the valley.
A big force of our men lay between us and them. As I looked I could seea mighty stir in it. Every man of them seemed to be jumping up in theair. From afar came the sound of bugles calling 'retreat, the shoutingof men, the rumbling of wagons. It grew louder. An officer rode by mehatless, and halted, shading his eyes. Then he rode back hurriedly.
'Hell has broke loose!' he shouted, as he passed me.
The blue-coated host was rushing towards us like a flood: artillery,cavalry, infantry, wagon train. There was a mighty uproar in the menbehind me--a quick stir of feet. Terror spread over them like thetravelling of fire. It shook their tongues. The crowd began caving atthe edge and jamming at the centre. Then it spread like a swarm of beesshaken off a bush.
'Run! Run for your lives!' was a cry that rose to heaven.
'Halt, you cowards!' an officer shouted.
It was now past three o clock.
The raw army had been on its feet since midnight. For hours it hadbeen fighting hunger, a pain in the legs, a quivering sickness at thestomach, a stubborn foe. It had turned the flank of Beauregard; victorywas in sight. But lo! a new enemy was coming to the fray, innumerable,unwearied, eager for battle. The long slope bristled with his bayonets.Our army looked and cursed and began letting go. The men near mewere pausing on the brink of awful rout. In a moment they were off,pell-mell, like a flock of sheep. The earth shook under them. Officersrode around them, cursing, gesticulating, threatening, but nothing couldstop them. Half a dozen trees had stood in the centre of the roaringmass. Now a few men clung to them--a remnant of the monster that hadtorn away. But the greater host was now coming. The thunder of its manyfeet was near me; a cloud of dust hung over it. A squadron of cavalrycame rushing by and broke into the fleeing mass. Heavy horses, cut freefrom artillery, came galloping after them, straps flying over foamyflanks. Two riders clung to the back of each, lashing with whip andrein. The nick of wagons came after them, wheels rattling, horsesrunning, voices shrilling in a wild hoot of terror. It makes me trembleeven now, as I think of it, though it is muffled under the cover ofnearly forty years! I saw they would go over me. Reeling as if drunk, Iran to save myself. Zigzagging over the field I came upon a grey-beardedsoldier lying in the grass and fell headlong. I struggled madly, butcould not rise to my feet. I lay, my face upon the ground, weeping likea woman. Save I
be lost in hell, I shall never know again the bitterpang of that moment. I thought of my country. I saw its splendid capitalin ruins; its people surrendered to God's enemies.
The rout of wagons had gone by I could now hear the heavy tramp ofthousands passing me, the shrill voices of terror. I worked to a sittingposture somehow--the effort nearly smothered me. A mass of cavalry wasbearing down upon me. They were coming so thick I saw they would trampleme into jelly. In a flash I thought of what Uncle Eb had told me once.I took my hat and covered my face quickly, and then uncovered it as theycame near. They sheared away as I felt the foam of their nostrils. I hadsplit them as a rock may split the torrent. The last of them went overme--their tails whipping my face. I shall not soon forget the lookof their bellies or the smell of their wet flanks. They had no soonerpassed than I fell back and rolled half over like a log. I could feela warm flow of blood trickling down my left arm. A shell, shot at theretreating army, passed high above me, whining as it flew. Then my mindwent free of its trouble. The rain brought me to as it came pelting downupon the side of my face. I wondered what it might be, for I knewnot where I had come. I lifted my head and looked to see a newdawn--possibly the city of God itself. It was dark--so dark I felt as ifI had no eyes. Away in the distance I could hear the beating of a drum.It rang in a great silence--I have never known the like of it. I couldhear the fall and trickle of the rain, but it seemed only to deepen thesilence. I felt the wet grass under my face and hands. Then I knew itwas night and the battlefield where I had fallen. I was alive and mightsee another day--thank God! I felt something move under my feet I hearda whisper at my shoulder.
'Thought you were dead long ago,' it said.
'No, no,' I answered, 'I'm alive--I know I'm alive--this is thebattlefield.
''Fraid I ain't goin' t' live,' he said. 'Got a terrible wound. Wish itwas morning.'
'Dark long?' I asked.
'For hours,' he answered. 'Dunno how many.'
He began to groan and utter short prayers.
'O, my soul waiteth for the Lord more than they that watch for themorning,' I heard him cry in a loud, despairing voice.
Then there was a bit of silence, in which I could hear him whispering ofhis home and people.
Presently he began to sing:
'Guide me, O thou great Jehovah! Pilgrim through this barren land I am weak but thou art mighty'
His voice broke and trembled and sank into silence.
I had business of my own to look after--perhaps I had no time tolose--and I went about it calmly. I had no strength to move and began tofeel the nearing of my time. The rain was falling faster. It chilled meto the marrow as I felt it trickling over my back. I called to the manwho lay beside me--again and again I called to him--but got no answer.Then I knew that he was dead and I alone. Long after that in the fardistance I heard a voice calling. It rang like a trumpet in the stillair. It grew plainer as I listened. My own name! William Brower? It wascertainly calling to me, and I answered with a feeble cry. In a momentI could hear the tramp of someone coming. He was sitting beside mepresently, whoever it might be. I could not see him for the dark. Histongue went clucking as if he pitied me.
'Who are you?' I remember asking, but got no answer.
At first I was glad, then I began to feel a mighty horror of him.
In a moment he had picked me up and was making off. The jolt of his stepseemed to be breaking my arms at the shoulder. As I groaned he ran. Icould see nothing in the darkness, but he went ahead, never stopping,save for a moment, now and then, to rest I wondered where he was takingme and what it all meant. I called again, 'Who are you?' but he seemednot to hear me. 'My God!' I whispered to myself, 'this is no man--thisis Death severing the soul from the body. The voice was that of the goodGod.' Then I heard a man hailing near by.
'Help, Help!' I shouted faintly.
'Where are you?' came the answer, now further away. 'Can't see you.'My mysterious bearer was now running. My heels were dragging upon theground; my hands were brushing the grass tops. I groaned with pain.
'Halt! Who comes there?' a picket called. Then I could hear voices.
'Did you hear that noise?' said one. 'Somebody passed me. So dark can'tsee my hand before me.
'Darker than hell!' said another voice.
It must be a giant, I thought, who can pick me up and carry me as ifI were no bigger than a house cat. That was what I was thinking when Iswooned.
From then till I came to myself in the little church at Centreville Iremember nothing. Groaning men lay all about me; others stood betweenthem with lanterns. A woman was bending over me. I felt the gentle touchof her hand upon my face and heard her speak to me so tenderly I cannotthink of it, even now, without thanking God for good women. I clung toher hand, clung with the energy of one drowning, while I suffered themerciful torture of the probe, the knife and the needle. And when it wasall over and the lantern lights grew pale in the dawn I fell asleep.
But enough of blood and horror. War is no holiday, my merry people, whoknow not the mighty blessing of peace. Counting the cost, let us havewar, if necessary, but peace, peace if possible.
Eben Holden: A Tale of the North Country Page 39
