The Sword of Antietam: A Story of the Nation's Crisis Part 26

"The Dunkard church," said one of the officers. "I think we'd better not go any closer. The Johnnies must be lying thick close at hand."

"The dim light off to the right must be made by their fires," said Colonel Winchester. "I wish I knew what troops they are. Jackson's perhaps. It's a rough country, and all these forests and ridges and hills will help the defense. I understand that the farms in here are surrounded by stone fences and that, too, will help the Johnnies."

"But we'll get 'em," said another confidently. "The battle can't be put off any longer, and we're bound to smash 'em in the morning."

They remained in the darkness for a while, trying to see what was pa.s.sing toward the Southern lines, but they could see little. There was some rifle firing after a while, and the occasional deep note of a cannon, mostly at random and the little group walked back.

"I'm going to sleep, d.i.c.k," said Warner. "I've just remembered that I'm an invalid and that if I overtask myself it will be a bad thing for McClellan to-morrow. The colonel doesn't want us any longer, and so here goes."

"I follow," said Pennington. "The dry earth is good enough for me. May I stay on top of it for the next half century."

Warner and Pennington slept quickly, but d.i.c.k lay awake a long time, listening to the stray rifle shots and the distant boom of a cannon at far intervals. After a while, he looked at his watch and saw that it was midnight. It was more than an hour later when slumber overtook him, and while he and his comrades lay there the last of Jackson's men were coming with the help that Lee needed so sorely.

Two divisions which had been left at Harper's Ferry started at midnight just as d.i.c.k was looking at his watch and at dawn they were almost to the Potomac. On their flank was a cavalry brigade and A. P. Hill was hurrying with another of infantry. Messenger after messenger from them came to Lee that on the fateful day they with their fourteen thousand bayonets would be in line when they were needed most.

Few of those who fought for the Lost Cause ever cherished anything more vividly than those hours between midnight and the next noon when they marched at the double quick across hill and valley and forest to the relief of their great commander. There was little need for the officers to urge them on, and at sunrise the rolling of the cannon was calling to them to come faster, always faster.

CHAPTER X. ANTIETAM

d.i.c.k arose at the first flash of dawn. All the men of the Winchester regiment were on their feet. The officers had sent their horses to the rear, knowing that they would be worse than useless among the rocks and in the forest in front of them.

A mist arising from the two rivers floated over everything, but d.i.c.k knew that the battle was at hand. The Northern trumpets were calling, and in the haze in front of them the Southern trumpets were calling, too.

The fog lifted, and then d.i.c.k saw the Confederate lines stretched through forest, rock and ploughed ground. Near the front was a rail fence with lines of skirmishers crouching behind it. As the last bit of mist rolled away the fence became a twisted line of flame. The fire of the Southern skirmishers crashed in the Union ranks, and the Northern skirmishers, pressing in on the right replied with a fire equally swift and deadly. Then came the roar of the Southern cannon, well aimed and tearing gaps in the Union lines.

"Its time to charge!" exclaimed Pennington. "It scares me, standing still under the enemy's fire, but I forget about it when I'm rus.h.i.+ng forward."

The Winchester regiment did not move for the present, although the battle thickened and deepened about it. The fire of the Confederate cannon was heavy and terrible, yet the Union ma.s.ses on either wing had begun to press forward. Hooker hurled in two divisions, one under Meade, and one under Doubleday, and another came up behind to support them.

The western men were here and remembering how they had been decimated at Mana.s.sas, they fought for revenge as well as patriotism.

At last the Winchester regiment in the center moved forward also. They struck heavy ploughed land, and as they struggled through it they met a devastating fire. It seemed to d.i.c.k that the last of the little regiment was about to be blown away, but as he looked through the fire and smoke he saw Warner and Pennington still by his side, and the colonel a little ahead, waving his sword and shouting orders that could not be heard.

d.i.c.k saw s.h.i.+ning far before him the white walls of the Dunkard church, and he was seized with a frantic desire to reach it. It seemed to him if they could get there that the victory would be won. Yet they made little progress. The cannon facing them fairly spouted fire, and thousands of expert riflemen in front of them lying behind ridges and among rocks and bushes sent shower after shower of leaden b.a.l.l.s that swept away the front ranks of the charging Union lines. The sh.e.l.l and the shrapnel and the grape and the round shot made a great noise, but the little bullets coming in swarms like bees were the true messengers of death.

Jackson and four thousand of his veterans formed the thin line between the Dunkard church and the Antietam. They were ragged and worn by war, but they were the children of victory, led by a man of genius, and they felt equal to any task. Near Jackson stood his favorite young aide, Harry Kenton, and on the other side was the thin regiment of the Invincibles, led by Colonel Leonidas Talbot, and Lieutenant-Colonel Hector St. Hilaire.

Around the church itself were the Texans under Hood, stalwart, sunburned men who could ride like Comanches, some of whom when lads had been present at San Jacinto, when the Texans struck with such terrible might and success for liberty.

"Are we winning? Tell me, that we are winning!" shouted d.i.c.k in Warner's ear.

"We're not winning, but we will! Confound that fog! It's coming up again!" Warner shouted back.

The heavy fog from the Potomac and the Antietam which the early and burning sunrise had driven away was drifting back, thickened by the smoke from the cannon and rifles. The gray lines in front disappeared and the church was hidden. Yet the Northern artillery continued to pour a terrible fire through the smoke toward the point where the Confederate infantry had been posted.

d.i.c.k heard at the same time a tremendous roar on the left, and he knew that the Union batteries beyond the Antietam had opened a flanking fire on the Southern army. He breathed a sigh of triumph. McClellan, who could organize and prepare so well, was aroused at last to such a point that he could concentrate his full strength in battle itself, and push home with all his might until able to s.n.a.t.c.h the reward, victory. As the lad heard the supporting guns across the Antietam, he suddenly found himself shouting with all his might. His voice could not be heard in the uproar, but he saw that the lips of those about him were moving in like manner.

The two corps on the peninsula had a good leader that morning. Hooker, fiery, impetuous, scorning death, continually led his men to the attack.

The gaps in their ranks were closed up, and on they went, infantry, cavalry and artillery. The fog blew away again and they beheld once more the gray lines of the Southerners, and the white wooden walls of the church.

So fierce and overwhelming was the Northern rush that all of Jackson's men and the Texans were borne back, and were driven from the ridges and out of the woods. Exultant, the men in blue followed, their roar of triumph swelling above the thunder of the battle.

"Victory!" cried d.i.c.k, but Warner shouted:

"Look out!"

The keen eyes of the young Vermonter had seen ma.s.ses of infantry and cavalry on their flank. Hooker, fierce and impetuous, had gone too far, and now the Southern trumpets sang the charge. Stuart, fiery and dauntless, his saber flas.h.i.+ng, led his charging hors.e.m.e.n, and Hill threw his infantry upon the Northern flank.

It seemed to d.i.c.k that he was in a huge volcano of fire and smoke.

Men who, in their calm moments, did not hate one another, glared into hostile eyes. There was often actual physical contact, and the flash from the cannon and rifles blazed in d.i.c.k's face. The Southerners in front who had been driven back returned, and as Stuart and Hill continued to beat hard upon their flanks, the troops of Hooker were compelled to retreat. Once more the white church faded in the mists and smoke.

But Hooker and his generals rallied their men and advanced anew. The ground around the Dunkard church became one of the most sanguinary places in all America. One side advanced and then the other, and they continually reeled to and fro. Even the young soldiers knew the immensity of the stake. This was the open ground, elsewhere the Antietam separated the fighting armies. But victory here would decide the whole battle, and the war, too. The Northern troops fought for a triumph that would end all, and the Southern troops for salvation.

So close and obstinate was the conflict that colonels and generals themselves were in the thick of it. Starke and Lawton of the South were both killed. Mansfield, who led one of the Northern army corps fell dead in the very front line, and the valiant Hooker, caught in the arms of his soldiers, was borne away so severely wounded that he could no longer give orders.

Scarcely any generals were left on either side, but the colonels and the majors and the captains still led the men into the thick of the conflict. d.i.c.k felt a terrible constriction. It was as if some one were choking him with powerful hands, and he strove for breath. He knew that the ma.s.ses pressed upon their flank by Stuart and Hill, were riddling them through and through.

The Union men were giving ground, slowly, it is true, and leaving heaps of dead and wounded behind them, but n.o.body could stand the terrible rifle fire that was raking them at short range from side to side, and they were no longer able to advance. Now d.i.c.k heard once more that terrible and triumphant rebel yell, and it seemed to him that they were about to be destroyed utterly, when sh.e.l.l and shot began to shriek and whistle over their heads. The woods behind them were alive with the blaze of fire, and the great Union batteries were driving back the triumphant and cheering Confederates.

The Union generals on the other side of the Antietam saw the fate that was about to overtake Hooker's valiant men, and Sumner, with another army corps, had crossed the river to the rescue, coming just in time.

They moved up to Hooker's men and the united ma.s.ses returned to the charge.

The battle grew more desperate with the arrival of fresh troops. Again it was charge and repulse, charge and repulse, and the continuous swaying to and fro by two combatants, each resolved to win. There were the Union men who had forced the pa.s.ses through the mountains to reach this field, and they were struggling to follow up those successes by a victory far greater, and there were the Confederates resolved upon another glorious success.

The fire became so tremendous that the men could no longer hear orders.

Here was a field of ripe corn, the stems and blades higher than a man's head, forty acres or so, nearly a quarter of a mile each way, but the corn soon ceased to hide the combatants from one another. The fire from the cannon and rifles came in such close sheets that scarcely a stalk stood upright in that whole field.

Long this mighty conflict swayed back and forth. d.i.c.k had seen nothing like it before, not even at the Second Mana.s.sas. It was almost hand to hand. Cannons were lost and retaken by each side. Stuart, finding the ground too rough for his cavalry, dismounted them and put them at the guns. Jackson, with an eye that missed nothing, called up Early's brigade and hurled it into the battle. The North replied with fresh troops, and the combat was as much in doubt as ever. Every brigade commander on the Southern side had been killed or wounded. Nearly all the colonels had fallen, but Jackson's men still fought with a fire and spirit that only such a leader as he could inspire.

It seemed to d.i.c.k that the whole world was on fire with the flash of cannon and rifles. The roar and crash came from not only in front and around him, but far down the side, where the main army of McClellan was advancing directly upon the Antietam, and the stone bridges which the Confederates had not found time to tear down.

There stood Lee, supremely confident that if his lieutenant, Jackson, could not hold the Northern opening into the peninsula n.o.body could.

His men, who knew the desperate nature of the crisis, said that they had never seen him more confident than he was that day.

On the ridge just south of the village was a huge limestone bowlder, and Lee, field gla.s.ses in hand, stood on it. He listened a while to the growing thunder of the battle in the north--the Dunkard church, around which Jackson and Hooker were fighting so desperately, was a mile away--but he soon turned his attention to the blue ma.s.ses across the Antietam.

The Southern commander faced the Antietam with the hard-hitting Longstreet on his right, his left being composed of the forces of Jackson, already in furious conflict. Nothing escaped him. As he listened to the thunder of the dreadful battle in the north, he never ceased to watch the great army in front of him on the other side of the little river.

While Hooker and his men were fighting with such desperate courage, why did not McClellan and the main body of the Union army move forward to the attack? Doubtless Lee asked himself this question, and doubtless also he had gauged accurately the mind of the Union leader, who always saw two or even three enemies where but one stood. Relying so strongly upon his judgment he dared to strip himself yet further and send more men to Jackson. A messenger brought him news that more of Jackson's men had come to his aid and that he was now holding the whole line against the attacks of Meade and Hooker and all the rest.

Lee nodded and turned his gla.s.ses again toward the long blue line across the Antietam. McClellan himself was there, standing on a hill and also watching. Around him was a great division under the command of Burnside, and his time to win victory had come. He sent the order to Burnside to move forward and force the Antietam. It is said that at this moment Lee had only five thousand men with him, all the rest having been sent to Jackson, and, if so, time itself fought against the Union, as it was a full two hours before Burnside carried out his order and moved forward on the Antietam.

But d.i.c.k, on the north, did not know that it was as yet only cannon fire, and not the charge of troops to the south and west. In truth, he knew little of his own part of the battle. Once he was knocked down, but it was only the wind from a cannon ball, and when he sprang to his feet and drew a few long breaths he was as well as ever.

From muttered talk around him, talk that he could hear under the thunder of the battle, he learned that Sumner, who had come with the great reinforcement, was now leading the battle, with Hooker wounded and Mansfield dying.