SHERIDAN'S ATTACK
More days passed and the army of Sheridan lay waiting at the head of
the valley, apparently without any aim in view. But Dick knew that if
Little Phil delayed it was with good cause. As Colonel Winchester was
high in the general's confidence Dick saw the commander every day. He
soon learned that he was of an intensely energetic and active nature,
and that he must put a powerful rein upon himself to hold back, when he
had such a fine army to lead.
Many of the younger officers expressed impatience and Dick saw by the
newspapers that the North too was chafing at the delay. Newspapers
from the great cities, New York, Philadelphia and Boston, reached their
camp and they always read them eagerly. Criticisms were leveled at
Sheridan, and from the appearance of things they had warrant, but Dick
had faith in their leader. Yet another period of depression had come
in the North. The loss of life in Grant's campaign through the
Wilderness had been tremendous, and now he seemed to be held
indefinitely by Lee in the trenches before Petersburg. The
Confederacy, after so many great battles, and such a prodigious roll of
killed and wounded, was still a nut uncracked, and Sheridan, who was
expected to go up the valley and turn the Southern flank, was resting
quietly in his camp.
Such was the face of matters, but Dick knew that, beneath, great plans
were in the making and that the armies would soon stir. The more he
saw of Sheridan the more he was impressed by him. He might prove to be
the Stonewall Jackson of the North. Young, eager, brave, he never fell
into the fault some of the other Union commanders had of overestimating
the enemy. He always had a cheery word for his young officers, and
when he was not poring over the maps with his lieutenant of engineers,
Meigs, he was inspecting his troops, and seeing that their equipment
and discipline were carried to the highest pitch. He was the very
essence of activity and the army, although not yet moving, felt at all
times the tonic of his presence.
Cavalry detachments were sent out on a wider circle. Slade and his men
had no opportunity to come so close again, but Shepard informed Dick
that he was in the mountains hemming in the valley on the west, and
that the statement of his having formed a junction with a band under
Skelly from the Alleghanies was true. He had seen the big man and the
little man together and they had several hundred followers.
Shepard in these days showed an almost superhuman activity. He would
leave the camp, disguised as a civilian, and after covering a great
distance and risking his life a dozen times he would return with
precious information. A few hours of rest and he was gone again on a
like errand. He seemed to be burning with an inward fire, not a fire
that consumed him, but a fire of triumph. Dick, who had formed a great
friendship with him and who saw him often, had never known him to speak
more sanguine words. Always cautious and reserved in his opinions, he
talked now of the certainty of victory. He told them that the South
was not only failing in men, having none to fill up its shattered
ranks, but that food also was failing. The time would come, with the
steel belt of the Northern navy about it and the Northern armies
pressing in on every side, when the South would face starvation.
But a day arrived when there were signs of impending movements in the
great Northern camp. Long columns of wagons were made ready and orders
were issued for the vanguard of cavalry to start at an appointed time.
Then, to the intense disappointment of the valiant young troops, the
orders were countermanded and the whole army settled back into its
quarters. Dick, who persistently refused to be a grumbler, knew that a
cause must exist for such an action, but before he could wonder about
it long Colonel Winchester told him, Warner and Pennington to have
their horses saddled, and be ready to ride at a moment's notice.
"We're to be a part of General Sheridan's escort," he said, "and we're
to go to a little place called Charlestown."
The three were delighted. They were eager to move, and above all in
the train of Sheridan. The mission must be of great importance or the
commander himself would not ride upon it. Hence they saddled up in
five minutes, hoping that the call would come in the next five.
"Did Colonel Winchester tell you why we were going to ride?" asked
Warner of Dick.
"No."
"Then perhaps we're going to receive the surrender of Early and all his
men."
Dick laughed.
"I've heard that old Jube Early is one of the hardest swearers in the
Southern army," he said, "and I've heard, too, that he's just as hard a
fighter. I don't think he'll be handing us his surrender on a silver
platter at Charlestown or anywhere else."
"I know it," said Warner. "I was only joking, but I'm wondering why we
go."
In ten minutes an orderly came with a message for them and they were in
the saddle as quickly as if they intended to ride to a charge.
Sheridan himself and his staff and escort were as swift as they, and
the whole troop swept away with a thunder of hoofs and the blood
leaping in their veins. It was now almost the middle of September, and
the wind that blew down from the crest of the mountains had a cool
breath. It fanned Dick's face and the great pulse in his throat
leaped. He felt that this ride must portend some important movement.
Sheridan would not gallop away from his main camp, except on a vital
issue.
It was not a long distance to Charlestown, and when they arrived there
they dismounted and waited. Dick saw Colonel Winchester's face express
great expectancy and he must know why they waited, but the youth did
not ask him any questions, although his own curiosity increased.
An hour passed, and then a short, thickset, bearded man, accompanied by
a small staff, appeared. Dick drew a deep breath. It was General
Grant, Commander-in-Chief of all the armies of the Union, and Sheridan
hastened forward to meet him. Then the two, with several of the senior
officers, went into a house, while the younger men remained outside,
and on guard.
"I knew that we were waiting for somebody of importance," said Warner,
"but I didn't dream that it was the biggest man we've got in the field."
"Didn't your algebra give you any hint of it?" asked Dick.
"No. An algebra reasons. It doesn't talk and waste its time in idle
chatter."
The young officers with their horses walked back and forth a long time,
while Grant and Sheridan talked. Dick, surprised that Grant had left
the trenches before Petersburg and had come so far to meet his
lieutenant, felt that the meeting must be momentous. But it was even
more crowded with the beginnings of great events than he thought.
Grant, as he wrote long afterward, had come prepared with a plan of
campaign for Sheridan, but, as he wrote, "seeing that he was so clear
and so positive in his views I said nothing about this and did not take
it out of my pocket." It was a quality of Grant's greatness, like that
of Lee, to listen to a lieutenant, and when he thought his plan was
better than his own to adopt the lieutenant's and put his own away.
In that memorable interview, from which such stirring campaigns dated,
Grant was impressed more and more by the earnestness and clearness of
the famous Little Phil, and, when they parted, he gave him a free rein
and an open road. Sheridan, when they rode away from the conference,
was sober and thoughtful. He was to carry out his own plan, but the
full weight of the responsibility would be his, and it was very great
for a young man who was not much more than thirty.
But Dick and his comrades felt exultation, and did not try to hide it.
Now that Grant himself had come to see Sheridan the army was bound to
move. Pennington looked toward the South and waved his hand.
"You've been waiting for us a long time, old Jube," he said, "but we're
coming. And you'll see and hear our resistless tread."
"But don't forget, Frank," said Warner soberly, "that we'll have a big
bill of lives to pay. We don't ride unhurt over the Johnnies."
"Don't I know it?" said Pennington. "Haven't I been learning it every
day for three years?"
Action was prompt as the young officers had hoped. The very next day
after the meeting with his superior, Sheridan prepared to march, and
the hopes of Dick and his friends rose very high. They did not know
that daring Southern spies had learned of the meeting of Grant and
Sheridan, and Early, judging that it portended a great movement against
him, was already consolidating his forces and preparing to meet it.
And Jubal Early was an able and valiant general.
Dick did not sleep that night. All had received orders to hold
themselves in readiness for an instant march, and his blood tingled
with expectancy. At midnight the Winchester regiment rode off to the
left to join the cavalry under Wilson which was to lead the advance,
moving along a pike road and then crossing the little river Opequan.
Dick rode close behind Colonel Winchester and Warner and Pennington
were on either side of him. Not far away from them was Sergeant
Whitley, ready for use as a scout. Shepard had disappeared already in
the darkness. They joined Wilson's command and waited in silence. At
three o'clock in the morning the word to advance was given and the
whole division marched forward in the starlight.
They had not gone far before Shepard rode back telling them that the
crossing of the Opequan was guarded by Confederate troops. The cavalry
increased their speed. After the long period of inaction they were
anxious to come to grips with their foe. Dick still rode knee to knee
with Warner and Pennington, as they went on at a rapid pace in the
starlight, the fields and strips of forest gliding past. Men on
horseback talk less at night than in the day and moreover these had
little to say. Their part was action, and they were waiting to see
what the little Opequan would disclose to them.
"Do you think they'll have a big force at the river?" asked Pennington.
"No," replied Dick. "I fancy from what we've heard of Early's army
that he won't have the men to spare."
"But we can look for a brush there," said Warner.
The night began to darken as a premonition of the coming dawn, a veil
of vapor was drawn before the stars, trees blended together and the air
became chill. Then the vapor was pierced in the east by a lance of
light. The rift widened, and the pale light of the first dawn appeared
over the hills. Dick, using his glasses, saw a flash which he knew was
the Opequan. And with that silvery gleam of water came other flashes
of red and rapid crackling reports. The Southern sharpshooters along
the stream were already opening fire.
A great shout went up from the cavalry. All the forces restrained so
long in these young men burst forth. The dawn was now deepening
rapidly, its pallor turning to silver, and the river, for a long
length, lay clear to view before them. Trumpets to right and left and
in the center sounded the charge, the mellow notes coming back in many
echoes.
The horsemen firing their own carbines and swinging aloft their sabers,
galloped forward in a mighty rush. The beat of hundreds of hoofs made
a steady sound, insistent and threatening. The yellow light of the
sun, replacing the silver of the first dawn, gilded them with gold,
glittering on the upraised blades and tense faces. The bullets of the
Southern sharpshooters, in the bushes and trees along the Opequan,
crashed among them, and horses and men went down, but the mighty sweep
of the mass was not delayed for an instant.
Dick was flourishing the cavalry saber that he now carried and was
shouting with the rest. Nearer and nearer came the belt of clear
water, and the fire of the Southern skirmishers increased in volume and
accuracy. No great Southern force was there, but the men were full of
courage and activity. Their rifle fire emptied many of the Northern
saddles. A bullet went through the sleeve of Dick's tunic and grazed
the skin, but he only felt a slight burning touch and then soon forgot
it.
Then the whole column started together, as they swept into the Opequan,
driving before them through sheer weight of mass the skirmishers and
sharpshooters, who were hidden among the trees and thickets. The water
itself proved but little obstacle. It was churned to foam by hundreds
of trampling hoofs, and Dick felt it falling upon him like rain, but
the drops were cool and refreshing.
Still at a gallop, they emerged from the river, wet and dripping, so
much water had been dashed up by the beating hoofs, and charged
straight on, driving the scattered Southern riflemen before them.
Dick's exultation swelled, and so did that of Warner and Pennington.
The young Nebraskan was compelled to give voice to his.
"Hurrah!" he shouted. "We'll gallop the whole length of the valley!
Nothing can stop us!"
But Warner, naturally cautious, despite his rejoicings, would not go so
far.
"Not the whole length of the valley, Frank!" he exclaimed. "Only half
of it!"
"All or nothing!" shouted Pennington, carried away by his enthusiasm.
"Hurrah! Hurrah!"
Before them now lay a small earthwork, from which field pieces began to
send ugly gusts of fire, but so great was the sweep of the cavalry that
they charged directly upon it. The defenders, too few to hold it,
withdrew and retreated in haste, and in a few minutes the Northern
cavalry were in possession.
"Didn't I tell you," exclaimed Pennington, "that we were going to
gallop the whole length of the valley! We've taken a fort with
horsemen!"
"Yes," said Warner, "but we'll stop here a while. Listen to the
trumpets sounding the halt, and yonder you can see the main lines of
the Johnnies."
It was obvious that it was unwise to go farther until the whole army
came up, as they heard other trumpets calling now, and they were not
their own but those of their enemies. Early had not been caught
napping. The dark lines of his infantry were advancing to retake the
little fort. The cavalry was reduced in an instant from the offensive
to the defensive, and dismounting and sending their horses to the rear,
where they were held by every tenth man, they waited with carbines
ready, the masses of men in gray bearing down upon them. Dick wondered
if the Invincibles were there before him. Second thought told him that
it was unlikely, as the advancing troops were infantry, and he knew
that the Invincibles were now mounted.
"Now, lads," said Colonel Winchester, going down the ranks, "ready with
your rifles!"
The Southern infantry came on to the steady beating of a drum
somewhere, but as they drew near the fort a sheet of bullets poured
upon them, and drove them back, leaving the ground sprinkled with the
fallen. Again and again they reformed and returned to the charge always
to meet the same fate.
"Brave fellows!" exclaimed Warner, "but they can't retake this fort
from us!"
After the last repulse Colonel Winchester drew out his men, mounted
them, and charging the infantry in flank sent them far down the road
toward Winchester, where heavy columns came to their support. But the
Winchester men had time to breathe, and also to exult, as they had
suffered but little loss. While they remained at the captured fort,
awaiting further orders, they watched the battle elsewhere, flaring in
a long irregular line across the valley.
The rifle fire was heavy and the big guns of Early were sweeping the
roads with shell and grapeshot. As well as Dick could see through his
glasses, the only success yet achieved was that of the cavalry at the
fort. Sheridan himself had not yet appeared, and the hopes of the
three sank a little. They had seen so many triumphs nearly achieved
and then lost that they could believe in nothing until it was done.
But the morning was yet very young. While the east had long been full
of light, the golden glow was just enveloping the west. The rifles
crashed incessantly and the heavy thunder of the cannon gave the steady
sound a deeper note. The fire of the defending Southern force made a
red stream across the hills and fields.
"It's too early to have a battle," said Warner, looking at the sun,
which was not yet far above the horizon.
"Too early for us or too early for the Johnnies?" said Pennington. "I
think, Dick, I see those rebel friends of yours. Turn your glasses to
the right, and look at that regiment of horses by the edge of the
grove. I see at the head of it two men with longish hair. Apparently
they are elderly, and they must be Colonel Talbot and Lieutenant
Colonel St. Hilaire."
Dick turned his glasses eagerly and the officers of the Invincibles
were at once recognizable to his more familiar eye. He could not
mistake Colonel Leonidas Talbot and Lieutenant Colonel Hector St.
Hilaire, both of whom were watching the progress of the battle through
glasses, and he knew that the four young men who sat their horses just
behind them were Harry, St. Clair, Dalton and Langdon.
As no further attack was made on the fort, and Colonel Winchester's
troop remained stationary for the time, Dick kept his glasses bearing
continually upon the Invincibles. The glasses were powerful and they
told him much. He inferred from the manner in which the men were drawn
up that they would charge soon. Near them a battery of four
Confederate guns was planted on a hill, and it was firing rapidly and
effectively, sending shell and shrapnel into advancing lines of blue
infantry.
A singular feeling took hold of him, one of which he was not then
conscious. He knew six of the officers who sat in the front of the
Invincibles, and one of them was his own cousin, almost his brother. He
did not know a soul in the blue columns advancing upon them, and his
hopes and fears centered suddenly around that little group of six.
The wood was filled with Southern infantry, as it was now spouting
flame, and the battery continued to thunder as fast as the men could
reload and fire. The Invincibles who carried short rifles, much like
the carbines of the North, raised them and pulled the triggers. Many
in the blue column fell, but the others went on without faltering.
Dick knew from long experience what would follow, and he watched it
alike with the eye and the mind that divines. Either his eye or his
fancy saw the Invincibles lean forward a little, fasten their rifles,
shake loose the reins with one hand, and drop the other hand to the
hilt of the saber. It was certain that in the next minute they would
charge.
He saw a trumpeter raise a trumpet to his lips and blow, loud and
shrill. Then the column of the Invincibles leaped forward, the necks of
the horses outstretched, the men raising their sabers and flashing them
above their heads. Dick drew deep breaths and his pulses beat
painfully. Had he realized what his wishes were then he would have
considered himself a traitor. In those swift moments his heart was
with the Invincibles and not with the blue columns that stood up
against them.
He saw the gray horsemen sweep forward into a cloud of fire and smoke,
in which he caught the occasional flash of a saber. The combat behind
the veil lasted only a minute or two, though it seemed an hour to Dick,
and then he saw the blue infantry reeling back, their advance checked
by the charge of the Invincibles. A cheer rose in Dick's throat, but
he checked it, and then, remembering, he trembled in a brief chill, as
if shaken by the knowledge that for a few moments at least he had not
been true to the cause for which he fought.
"A gallant charge those Johnnies made," said Warner, "and it's been
effective, too. Our men are falling back, while the Johnnies are
returning to their place near the wood."
Dick was straining his eyes through the glasses to see whether any one
of the five whom he knew had fallen, but as the Invincibles returned
from their victorious charge in a close mass it was impossible for him
to tell. A number of saddles had been emptied, as riderless horses
were galloping wildly over the plain. He sighed a little and replaced
his glasses in their case.
"Here come more of our cavalry!" said Warner.
They heard the heavy beat of many hoofs and in an instant many horsemen
swarmed about them. It was Sheridan himself who led them, his face
flushed and eager and his eyes blazing. He was a little man, but he
was electric in his energy, and his very presence seemed to communicate
more spirit and fire to the troops. The officers crowded about him,
and, while he swept the field with his glasses, he also gave a rapid
command.
The Southern resistance, despite inferior numbers, was valiant and
enduring. Their heavy guns were pouring a deadly fire upon the
Northern center. Beyond the taking of the fort by the cavalry the Army
of the Shenandoah had made no progress, and the Southern troops were
rapidly concentrating at every critical point. Old Jube Early, mighty
swearer, was proving himself a master of men.
Dick could not watch Sheridan long, as the cavalry were quickly sent
off to the left to clear away skirmishers, and let the infantry and
artillery get up on that front. There were many groups of trees, and
from every one of these the Southern riflemen sent swarms of bullets.
It seemed to Dick that he was preserved miraculously. Many a bullet
coming straight for his head must have turned aside at the last moment
to seek a target elsewhere. To him at least these bullets were
merciful that morning.
But they cleared the ground, though some of their own saddles were
emptied, and the infantry and the artillery came up behind them. The
big guns were planted and began to reply to those of the South. Yet
the Confederate lines still held fast. Clouds of smoke floated over
the field, but whenever they lifted sufficiently Dick saw the gray army
maintaining all its positions. He looked for the Invincibles again but
could not find them. Doubtless they were hid from his view by the
hills.
"It's anybody's fight," said Warner, surveying the field with his cool,
mathematical eye. "We have the greater numbers but our infantry are
coming up slowly and, besides, the enemy has the advantage of interior
lines."
"And the morning wanes," said Dick. "I thought we'd make a grand rush
and sweep over 'em!"
"Oh, these Johnnies are tough. They have to be. There's not much
marching over the other by either side in this war."
A heavy battle of cannon and rifles, with no advantage to either side,
went on for a long time. Dick saw Sheridan galloping here and there,
and urging on his troops, but the reserves were slow in coming and he
was not yet able to hurl his full strength upon his enemy. Noon came,
the battle already having lasted four or five hours, and Sheridan had
no triumph to show, save the little fort that the cavalry had seized
early in the morning.
"Do you think we'll have to draw off?" asked Pennington.
"Maybe we'll have to, but we won't," replied Dick. "Sheridan refuses
to recognize necessities when they're not in his favor. You'll now see
the difference between a man and men."
Colonel Winchester's regiment was sent off further to the left to
prevent any flanking movement, but they could still see most of the
field. For the moment they were not engaged, and they watched the
thrilling and terrific panorama as it passed before them.
Colonel Winchester himself suddenly broke from his calm and pointed to
the rear of the Union lines.
"Look!" he exclaimed. "All our reserves of artillery and infantry are
coming up! The whole army will now advance!"
They saw very clearly the deepening of the lines in the center.
Sheridan was there massing the new troops for the attack, and soon the
trumpets sounded the charge along the whole front. The Northern
batteries redoubled their fire, and the South, knowing that a heavier
shock of battle was coming, replied in kind.
"Here we go again!" cried Pennington, and the horsemen rode straight at
their enemy. It seemed to Dick that the Southern regiments came
forward to meet them and a battle long, fierce and wavering in its
fortunes ensued. The wing to which the Winchesters belonged pressed
forward, driving their enemy before them, only to be caught when they
went too far by a savage flanking fire of artillery. Early had brought
in his reserve guns, and so powerful was their attack that at this
point the Northern line was almost severed, and a Southern wedge was
driven into the gap.
But Sheridan did not despair. He had a keen eye and a collected mind,
infused with a fiery spirit. Where his line had been weakened he sent
new troops. With charge after charge he drove the Confederates out of
the gap and closed it up. A whole division was then hurled with its
full weight against the Southern line and broke it, although the
gallant general who led the column fell shot through the heart.
But Early formed new lines. It was only a temporary success for
Sheridan. An important division of cavalry sent on a wide flanking
movement had not yet arrived, and he wondered why. Perhaps the thought
came into his own dauntless heart that he might not succeed at all,
but, if so, he hid it, and called up fresh resources of strength and
courage. It was now far into the afternoon but he resolved nevertheless
to win victory before the day was over. Everywhere the call for a new
charge was sounded.
The Winchesters had a good trumpeter, a deep-chested young fellow who
loved to blow forth mellow notes, and now as his brazen instrument sang
the song that summoned men to death the young men unconsciously
tightened the grip of the knee on their horses, and leaned a little
forward, as if they would see the enemy more closely. To the right the
fire grew heavier and heavier, and most of the field was hidden by a
thick veil of smoke.
Dick saw other cavalry massing on either side of the Winchester
regiment, and he knew their charge was to be one of great weight and
importance.
"I feel that we're going to win or lose here," he said to Warner.
"Looks like it," replied the Vermonter, "but I think you can put your
money on the cavalry today. It's Sheridan's great striking arm."
"It'll have to strike with all its might, that's sure," said Dick.
He did not know that the force in front of him was commanded by a
general from his own state, Breckinridge, once Vice-President of the
United States and also high in the councils of the Confederacy.
Breckinridge was inspiring his command with the utmost vigor and
already his heavy guns were sweeping the front of the Union cavalry,
while the riflemen stood ready for the charge.
The great mass of Northern horsemen were eager and impatient. A thrill
of anticipation seemed to run through them, as if through one body, and
when the final command was given they swept forward in a mighty,
irresistible line. In Dick's mind then anticipation became knowledge.
He was as sure as he was of his own name that they were going to win.
Again he was knee to knee with Warner and Pennington, and with these
good comrades on his right and left he rode into the Southern fire,
among the shell and shrapnel and grapeshot and bullets that had swept
so often around him. In spite of the most desperate courage, the
Southern troops gave way before the terrific onset--they had to give
ground or they would have been trampled under the feet of the horses.
Cannon and many rifles were taken, and the whole Confederate division
was driven in disorder down the road.
Warner's stern calm was broken, and he shouted in delight "We win! We
win!" Then Dick and Pennington shouted with him: "We win! We win!"
and as the smoke of their own battle lifted they saw that the Union
army elsewhere was triumphant also. Sheridan along his whole line was
forcing the enemy back toward Winchester, raking him with his heavy
guns, and sending charge after charge of cavalry against him. Unable
to withstand the weight hurled upon them the Southern troops gave
ground at an increased rate.
Yet Early and his veterans never showed greater courage than on that
day. His brave officers were everywhere, checking the fugitives and,
his best division turning a front of steel to the enemy, covered the
retreat. Neither infantry nor cavalry could break it, although every
man in the Southern command knew that the battle was lost. Yet they
were resolved that it should not become a rout, and though many were
falling before the Union force they never shrank for a moment from
their terrible task.
The Invincibles were in the division that covered the retreat, and they
were exposed at all times to the full measure of the Union attack.
Dalton had joined them that morning, but the bullets and shells seemed
resolved to spare the four youths and the two colonels, or at least not
to doom them to death. Nearly every one of them bore slight wounds,
and often men had been killed only a few feet away, but the valiant
band, led by its daring officers, fought with undimmed courage and
resolution.
"I fear that we have been defeated, Hector," said Colonel Leonidas
Talbot.
"Don't call it a defeat, Leonidas. It's merely a masterly retreat
before superior numbers, after having inflicted great loss upon the
enemy. As you see, we are protecting our withdrawal. Every attack of
the enemy upon our division has been beaten back, and we will continue
to beat him back as long as he comes."
"True, true, Hector, and the Invincibles are bearing a great part in
this glorious feat of arms! But the Yankee general, Sheridan, is not
like the other Yankee generals who operated in the valley earlier in
the war. We're bound to admit that."
"We do admit it, Leonidas, and alas! we have now no Stonewall Jackson
to meet him, brave and capable as General Early is!"
The two colonels looked at the setting sun, and hoped that it would go
down with a rush. The division could not hold forever against the
tremendous pressure upon it that never ceased, but darkness would put
an end to the battle. The first gray of twilight was already showing
on the eastern hills, and Early's men still held the broad turnpike
leading into the South. Here, fighting with all the desperation of
imminent need, they beat off every effort of the Northern cavalry to
gain their ground, and when night came they still held it, withdrawing
slowly and in good order, while Sheridan's men, exhausted by tremendous
marches and heavy losses, were unable to pursue. Yet the North had
gained a great and important victory.
* * * *
Darkness closed over a weary but exultant army. It had not destroyed
the forces of Early, and it had been able to pursue only three miles.
It had lost five thousand men in killed and wounded, but the results,
nevertheless, were great and the soldiers knew it. The spell of
Southern invincibility in the famous valley, where Jackson had won so
often, was broken, and the star of Sheridan had flashed out with
brilliancy, to last until the war's close. They knew, too, that they
now held all of the valley north of Winchester, and they were soon to
know that they would continue to hold it. They commanded also a great
railway and a great canal, and the South was cut off from Maryland and
Pennsylvania, neither of which it could ever invade again.
Although a far smaller battle than a dozen that had been fought, it was
one of the greatest and most complete victories the North had yet won.
After a long and seemingly endless deadlock a terrible blow had been
struck at the flank of Lee, and the news of the triumph filled the
North with joy. It was also given on this occasion to those who had
fought in the battle itself to know what they had done. They were not
blinded by the dust and shouting of the arena.
Dick with his two young comrades sat beneath an oak and ate the warm
food and drank the hot coffee the camp cook brought to them. They had
escaped without hurt, and they were very happy over the achievement of
the day. The night was crisp, filled with starshine, and the cooking
fires had been built along a long line, stretching away like a series
of triumphant bonfires.
"I felt this morning that we would win," said Dick.
"I've felt several times that we would win, when we didn't," said
Pennington.
"But this time I felt it right. They say that Stonewall Jackson always
communicated electricity to his men, and I think our Little Phil has
the same quality. Since we first came to him here I haven't doubted
that we would win, and when I saw him and Grant talking I knew that
we'd be up and doing."
"It's the spirit that Grant showed at Vicksburg," said Warner,
seriously. "Little Phil--I intend to call him that when I'm not in his
presence, because it's really a term of admiration--is another Grant,
only younger and on horseback."
"It's fire that does it," said Dick. "No, Frank, I don't mean this
material fire burning before us, but the fire that makes him see
obstacles little, and advantages big, the fire that makes him rush over
everything to get at the enemy and destroy him."
"Well spoken, Dick," said Warner. "A bit rhetorical, perhaps, but that
can be attributed to your youth and the region from which you come."
"It's a great pity, George, about my youth and the region from which I
come. If so many youths in blue didn't come from that same region the
whole Mississippi Valley might now be in the hands of the Johnnies."
"Didn't I tell you, Dick, not to argue with him?" said Pennington.
"What's the use? New England has the writers and when this war is
ended victoriously they'll give the credit of all the fighting to New
England. And after a while, through the printed word, they'll make
other people believe it, too."
"Then you Nebraskans and Kentuckians should learn to read and write.
Why blame me?" said Warner with dignity.
Colonel Winchester joined them at that moment, having returned from a
brief council with Sheridan and his officers. Dick, without a word,
passed him a plate of hot ham and a tin cup of sizzling coffee. The
colonel, who looked worn to the bone but triumphant, ate and drank.
Then he settled himself into an easy place before one of the fires and
said:
"A messenger has gone to General Grant with the news of our victory,
and it will certainly be a most welcome message. The news will also be
sent to the nearest telegraph station, and then it will travel on
hundreds of wires to every part of the North, but while it's flashing
through space we'll be riding forward to new battle."
"I expected it, sir," said Dick. "I suppose we advance again at dawn."
"And maybe a little sooner. Now you boys must rest. You've had
eighteen hours of marching and fighting. I've been very proud of my
regiment today, and fortunately we have escaped without large losses."
"And you sleep, too, sir, do you not?" said Warner, respectfully. "If
we've been marching and fighting for eighteen hours so have you."
"I shall do so a little later, but that's no reason why the rest of you
should delay. How that coffee and ham refreshed me! I didn't know I
was so nearly dead."
"Here's more, Colonel!"
"Thank you, Dick. I believe I will. But as I say, go to sleep. I
want all my regiment to sleep. We don't know what is before us
tomorrow, but whatever it is it won't be easy. Now you boys have had
enough to eat and drink. Into the blankets with you!"
He did not wait to see his order obeyed, but strode away on another
hasty errand. But it was obeyed and that, too, without delay. The
young warriors rolled themselves in their blankets and hunted a soft
place for their heads. But their nerves were not yet quiet, and sleep
did not come for a little while. The long lines of fires still glowed,
and the sounds of an army came to them. Dick looked up into the
starshine. He was still rejoicing in the victory, not because the
other side had lost, but because, in his opinion, it brought peace much
nearer. He realized as he lay there gazing into the skies that the
South could never win as long as the North held fast. And the North
was holding fast. The stars as they winked at him seemed to say so.
He propped himself upon his elbow and said:
"George, does your little algebra tell you anything about the meaning
of this victory?"
Warner tapped his breast.
"That noble book is here in the inside pocket of my tunic," he replied.
"It's not necessary for me to take it out, but tucked away on the 118th
page is a neat little problem which just fits this case. Let x equal
the Army of Northern Virginia, let y equal the army of Early here in
the valley, and let x plus y equal a possibly successful defense by the
South. But when y is swept away it's quite certain that x standing
alone cannot do so. My algebra tells you on the 118th page, tucked
away neatly in a paragraph, that this is the beginning of the end."
"It sounds more like a formula than a problem, George, but still I'm
putting my faith in your little algebra book."
"George's algebra is all right," said Pennington, "but it doesn't
always go before, it often comes after. It doesn't show us how to do a
thing, but proves how we've done it. As for me, I'm pinning my faith
to Little Phil. He won a great victory today, when all our other
leaders for years have been beaten in the Valley of Virginia, and
sometimes beaten disgracefully too."
"Your argument is unanswerable, Frank," said Dick. "I didn't expect
such logic from you."
"Oh, I think I'm real bright at times."
"Despite popular belief," said Warner.
"I don't advertise my talents," said Pennington.
"But you ought to. They need it."
Dick laughed.
"Frank," he said, "I give you your own advice to me. Don't argue with
him. With him the best proof that he's always right is because he
thinks he is."
"I think clearly and directly, which can be said of very few of my
friends," rejoined Warner.
Then all three of them laughed and lay down again, resting their heads
on soft lumps of turf.
They were under the boughs of a fine oak, on which the leaves were yet
thick. Birds, hidden among the leaves, began to sing, and the three,
astonished, raised themselves up again. It was a chorus, beautiful and
startling, and many other soldiers listened to the sound, so unlike
that which they had been hearing all day.
"Strange, isn't it?" said Pennington.
"But fine to hear," said Warner.
"Likely they were in the tree this morning when the battle began," said
Dick, "and the cannon and the rifles frightened 'em so much that they
stayed close within the leaves. Now they're singing with joy, because
it's all over."
"A good guess, I think, Dick," said Warner, "but isn't it beautiful at
such a time and such a place? How these little fellows must be
swelling their throats! I don't believe they ever sang so well before."
"I didn't think today that I'd be sung to sleep tonight," said Dick,
"but it's going to happen."
When his eyes closed and he floated away to slumberland it was to the
thrilling song of a bird on a bough above his head.