The Last Confederate (25 page)

Thad floundered down a bank, his hands trembling. His comrades, too, were scared. Their eyes were wide and white, like those of frightened horses. They paused at the top of the bank to re-form, then started across a wide field thinly lined with scrub timber. They almost stepped on the body of a dead soldier, a Confederate with the top of his head blown off. The line parted to avoid the corpse, and Thad saw the wind lift the tawny beard, as if a hand were stroking it. He quickly looked away, sick to his stomach.

The line, broken into moving fragments by the terrain, moved as fast as possible—all of a sudden ahead of them they saw the battle line! Their unit had crested a small ridge, and Lieutenant Winslow ordered, “Get into the line, boys!” They ran down the hill to fall in place beside the men who were rapidly loading and firing into the blue line of soldiers running across an open field. Thad heard a deafening roar from some guns over to his left, and then he saw Dooley lift his rifle and fire. As soon as he had shot, he rolled over and began to reload. He caught Thad’s eye and shouted, “Got one of ’em, Thad!”

Thad lay still, and then he thought of the chaplain’s words:
You have comrades who are depending on you.
He jerked around and saw that many of the shapes in the line were lying motionless in peculiar positions—some with one arm lifted high as if in prayer, and others flat on their backs with vacant eyes staring up at the smoke-scored sky. Then he looked at his comrades who were desperately loading and firing as fast as they could—and he knew he had no choice.

With a sob he threw his musket up and fired at the first Yankee in his view. He tried to avoid the sight, but saw the figure flailing wildly, then tumble down and lie still. Tears blinded Thad’s eyes, but he forced himself to reload his musket and fire. Then it seemed as if he became not a man but a member. He was no longer Thad Novak—he was just a part
of Company A, Third Virginia Infantry. He was working at a task, like a carpenter who had made many boxes and was now making another one.

Some of the battle rage that infested the others touched him, and he looked around, noticing that there was an absence of heroic poses. He had seen pictures of armies going into battle, all in perfectly formed lines, but there was none to be seen in this battle. The men were bending and surging in their haste, and the steel ramrods clanked and clanged incessantly as the men pounded them into the hot rifle barrels. The rifles, once loaded, were jerked to the shoulder and fired into the smoke without apparent aim, or at one of the blurred and shifting forms that appeared through the battle haze.

Here and there, men in the line with him dropped like bundles. Milton Calhoun had been killed almost at once, and his body lay stretched out in the position of a tired man resting. Farther down the line Peyton Law, the schoolteacher, had his knee joint shattered by a ball. He dropped his rifle and gripped a small tree with both arms, clinging to it desperately and crying for help.

Finally a yell went along the line, and Dooley screamed, “They’re runnin’! The Yanks are runnin’ away.”

Thad looked up and saw the blue line falling back, and he took a deep breath. The guns stopped abruptly as a strange silence fell over the field. Now for the first time he could hear the crying of the wounded. There was a rush to help those who were still alive, and before long, two ambulance wagons lumbered to the line and Thad helped to get the injured into them. He assisted Peyton in tying a sash around his leg to stem the flow of blood, while the man kept asking, “Do you think they’ll cut it off? Do you?”

As soon as the stricken man was taken away, Dooley remarked, “He’ll lose that leg, Thad. Knee was plumb busted.” They both discovered they were extremely thirsty, and drank what little water they had in their canteens. “We crossed a
creek back aways,” Dooley said. “Let’s see if the officers will let us git some water.”

They approached Lieutenant Beauchamp for permission. At first he hesitated, then nodded. “You better go in small groups, Young. The Yankees might come at us again, and we’re pretty thin.”

They called to Lew Avery and Les Satterfield, and the four took as many canteens as they could carry. The creek was small, but seemed clear, and they filled the canteens and started back. “That was almost too much of a good thing,” Lew remarked. He was a dark-faced man with the expressionless features of a professional gambler. “I hope they don’t try it again until we get more of our guns in place.”

Even as he spoke there was a clatter of rifle fire, and Les cried out, “They’re startin’ in again!” and the four raced back just in time to see that the regiment was falling back.

“We can’t hold this position,” Major Lee shouted to Mark and Beauchamp. “Pull back into that gully; then you’ll have to hold them back. Cover the retreat. Hold as long as you can!”

He galloped off, and both officers began running down the line, shouting, “We’ll retreat to that gully. Keep firing as you go!”

It was about three hundred yards to the gully. The rest of the brigade went first, followed by Company A. As they all dropped into place, they quickly formed a thin battle line. “Gosh, there’s a million of them bluebellies!” someone shouted, and it didn’t seem far wrong to Thad and the others either.

Mark Winslow knew they were in a vulnerable position, and voiced his concern to Beau. “We’re going to get slaughtered here. There’re too few of us.”

“Orders are to stay,” Beau replied. He wiped his face and asked, “You got any ideas?”

Mark had been surveying the ground behind them, and his eyes focused on a series of steep ridges to their rear. “Look, Beau—see that gap in those ridges? If we can get behind
them, the Yanks will have to break up their lines. They can’t climb those ridges, so they’ll have to come at us right through that gap.”

Beauchamp immediately saw the advantage and cried out, “You’re a young Napoleon, Mark! Let’s try it!”

It took little urging to get the company to fall back, for they saw a massive line of bluecoats starting across the field toward them. The Virginians raced through the thin line of trees, dashed across the gap, which was no more than thirty feet wide, and regrouped behind a series of low mounds about five hundred yards from the gap.

“We got to stop ’em, boys!” Mark called out.

“Lieutenant,” Beauchamp said, “I think we better let our best shots do the shooting. The rest can load.”

Mark stared at him, then at the open space between their position and the gap. “That’s a long shot, Beau. But we’ve got enough sharpshooters to do the job. Sharp and Young for sure . . .” He named off several more of the best shots.

“You left out Novak,” Beau said with a wry grin. “I know for
sure
he can shoot! Let’s position them quickly—I think the Yankees are about ready to charge.”

Thad and the others were named, and Mark shouted out, “The rest of you load up. Don’t take a shot yourself. Sharpshooters, drop the Yanks as soon as they come through that gap!” The men broke up around the twelve others chosen, with rifles loaded and ready.

“HERE THEY COME!” somebody roared, and instantly Thad saw the gap turn blue as the enemy crowded through. He lifted his Whitworth and knew he could not miss that thick mass. At the same instant he heard the other sharpshooters firing. A hand snatched at his rifle and replaced it with a loaded musket. He threw it up, fired, and at once another musket was thrust into his hands. There was no letup. The muskets down the small line were exploding like the gatling gun he’d heard about, and with every shot a blue-clad soldier fell.

Thad didn’t know how long it went on, but he fired what
seemed like hundreds of times, never having to wait for a loaded gun. The gap was filled at least four deep with the dead, and as soon as others staggered and crawled over the bodies of their dead and dying, they were shot down at once.

Finally someone shouted, “That’s retreat! Hear it?” Far off over the ridge, a bugle was sounding.

“They’re quitting!” Mark cried.

A ragged cheer went up, and everyone pounded Thad’s back for the tremendous job he’d done. With jubilation the group returned to the main body, where Major Lee greeted them. He jumped lightly off his horse and said to the officers, “My congratulations to you both! I never saw a finer holding action!”

“Well, we had some pretty fair shooters, Major,” Mark grinned.

“Yes, I’ve seen
one
of them shoot before, I believe.” Lee smiled at Beau, who returned it, then came over to where Thad was standing. “You did well, soldier. I wish we had 100,000 soldiers just like you.”

They pulled back that day, and the next morning were in full retreat. “Going to Richmond,” Tom told the squad. “Officers say we’ll be waitin’ there with our whole army when McClellan arrives.”

“Whooee!” Dooley yelped. “Won’t we give them Yankees particular fits!”

****

McClellan moved his forces north of the Chickahominy in a position to make contact with McDowell’s I Corps, which Lincoln had promised to send. The remaining Federal forces were deployed south of the Chickahominy, facing Richmond—only five miles away. In the evening the Yankee soldiers could hear bells from the churches and see their spires through the haze.

But the total might of the Federal Army was now poised to strike at the very heart of the Confederacy. McClellan with
his vast army of over 100,000 men was ready to overrun the thin ranks of the Army of Northern Virginia. One determined push, and the whole thing would be over. The North would have crushed the rebellion.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

THE SEVEN DAYS

“How would you ladies like to go to a camp meeting tonight?”

Sky’s words evoked a different reaction from each of the three women sitting at tables wrapping bandages for the hospital. Rebekah exclaimed, “Oh yes, that would be refreshing, Sky!”

Pet asked cautiously, “Who is the preacher, Papa?” She was somewhat choosy about preachers, and did not want to commit herself to a boring sermon.

Belle responded, “Oh, I’m too tired to go tonight.”

Sky’s eyes twinkled. “Well, you girls stay at home then. Rebekah, put on your best dress so the soldiers will have something nice to look at.”

“The soldiers?” Belle asked quickly.

“Why, yes.” Sky winked at Rebekah, keeping his face turned. “Chaplain Boone is having a real good meeting with our men, so I thought we’d go visit. Mark and Tom will be there—and Vance and Thad, of course. I’ll tell them you were too tired, Belle.”

“Papa! You are
awful!
” Belle jumped up and ran to her father, throwing her arms around his neck. Whirling around, she cried, “I must get something beautiful to wear! We can’t go looking like a bunch of beggars!”

She flew out and Sky asked, “You think you might like to go, Pet?”

“Oh . . . I guess so,” she replied casually. “I always liked
Brother Boone’s preaching.” She got up and followed Belle, adding, “I’ll make a cake for the boys.”

Sky laughed at them, then sobered. He sat down beside Rebekah and watched as she continued her task. Finally, he broached the subject neither one wanted to face. “It may be our last chance to visit the boys. I talked to Colonel Chestnut today. General Lee thinks that McClellan is ready to move.”

“Will they get to Richmond, Sky?”

He put his chin in his hands and thought about the situation. “Well,” he began, “Chestnut said that on June twelfth, Jeb Stuart went on a scouting mission. He was just supposed to feel McClellan out, but you know how Jeb is—he rode around the whole Yankee Army! Chestnut said the generals got their heads together, and Lee decided to send most of the army against the force that’s north of the Chickahominy.” He paused, awe in his voice. “That Robert E. Lee is a natural-born gambler! He’s leaving Richmond with not much more than a thin screen, but he knows there’s no other way to stop the big force that McClellan’s got right at our front gate.”

“What if the Yankees attack while most of the army is gone?”

“Well, that might be the end of it all,” Sky shrugged. “Chestnut told me that Lee sent Stonewall Jackson to the Shenandoah Valley to make trouble so that the reinforcements the North is sending to McClellan will have to go there, take them off our back.”

Rebekah put the bandage down and rose to stretch her aching back. “Guess it’s a good time for us to go to church. What time will we leave?”

“Soon as we can get Belle dressed and Pet’s cake made.”

They left at three o’clock, but the short distance took them longer than usual. The roads were crowded with troops and guns—all headed for the front. Sky had to pull over and wait several times. It didn’t matter, though; they were impressed with the fortifications that had been built. When the family did get to the army camp, they found a madhouse of activity.
Sky asked a harried sergeant where the camp meeting would be held, and soon they were on their way. They arrived in time to share their supper and Pet’s cake with Mark and Tom. Belle captured Vance as soon as he appeared and the two vanished.

“I’ll be surprised if they hear much of Boone’s preaching,” Sky whispered to Rebekah. Then he said, “Look, there’s Thad.”

Pet had been watching the soldiers file in, most of them going at once to stand before a wagon that was used as a platform for the preacher. She saw Thad look toward her, nod, and look away. She knew he was too shy to come to her, so she said, “Papa, may I go down front where I can hear better?”

“Of course,” Sky replied soberly. “I’ve been real concerned about this hearing problem of yours. Go right on down.”

She flushed, knowing that he was teasing her. Without delay she made her way through the crowd seated on the ground. Since there were no civilians at the meeting, the sight of the young woman drew the eyes of most of the men. “Hello, Thad,” she said breathlessly when she reached his side.

He turned at once, and was embarrassed by the attention she had drawn. “Why, hello, Miss Patience.” Every ear immediately around them was tuned to their words, and he asked, “Come to hear the preaching?”

She nodded and would have spoken, but a corporal had stepped up on the wagon and begun singing a hymn. The two seated themselves quickly. The men sang lustily, so there was no opportunity for Pet and Thad to talk. After many songs, Chaplain Boone got up on the wagon and began his sermon. He was preaching to men who might not outlive the week, as they well knew, so he preached a simple message, speaking of the need of forgiveness, and the love of Jesus. He spoke mostly about Jesus as the Lamb of God, and to Thad it was all new. He did not know the Bible, so when Boone began to tell them how every Jewish family on Passover would take a lamb and kill it, he listened intently.