THERE were the same perplexing sounds of battle in many places and
directions when the 200th Ind. went into line as there had been around
Buzzard Roost.
Joe Johnston was fiercely contesting every hilltop and narrow gorge to
gain time to adjust his army to the unexpected movement through Snake
Creek Gap, and save the stores he had accumulated behind the heavy
fortifications around Dalton.
Though they had felt themselves completely worn out by the work with
the train, the prospect of a fight put new life into the 200th Ind., and
they leaned on their guns and listened to the crackling of musketry
and booming of artillery far away to their left, to their right, and
apparently in their rear. Sometimes the sounds would come so near that
the wave of battle would seem to be surely rolling down on them. Then
they would clutch their guns more firmly, and their hands instinctively
seek their cartridge-boxes. Then the firing would as inexplicably die
down and stop, when they would again sink on the ground with fatigue.
So the late afternoon wore on. It grew very quiet all around. Even the
dull booming of the cannon far up the valley where Howard and Schofield
were advancing on the heavy works immediately in front of Dalton, died
down into sullen fitfulness.
The silence of the woods and the mountains as night drew on became more
oppressive than the crashing sounds, the feverish movements, and the
strained expectancy of the day had been.
The whip-poor-wills began to fill the evening air with their mournful
calls, which accentuated and intensified the weird loneliness of the
scene, where but a little while before there had been no thought but of
deadly hatred and bitter strife.
"I never heard the whip-poor-wills whip so gloomily," remarked the
sentimental Alf Russell, after the regiment had stacked arms, and the
men were resting, exhausted and out of temper, on the ground. "Seems
to me it sounds altogether different from the way they do at home; got
something savage in it."
"Probably they're yelling their satisfaction over the number of men
they've seen killed and wounded today," ventured Monty Scruggs. "Does
'em good to see men shooting at one another instead of birds."
"Dumbed little brutes," grumbled Shorty, nursing his hurt foot, "if
they'd bin wrastlin' all day with a mule train they'd be too tired to
go yellin' around like that. I always did hate a whip-poor-will, anyway.
They hain't got sense enough to do anything but yell, jest like a pasel
o' rebel cavalry."
"Great Scott! I wisht I knowed whether we're goin' to stay here
tonight," said Si, handling his blanket roll with a look of
anticipation.
"No," said the Orderly, coming down from the right of the regiment.
"We're to move forward about a mile, and establish a line for the
rest of the brigade to form on. We're to go quietly, without noise or
commands, and then bivouac without fires. Get your guns and fall in
quietly."
As ill-tempered as tired, the boys roused up from the ground, and began
taking their guns from the stacks. Harry Joslin snatched his out first,
and the stack, falling over, the bayonet points struck Gid Mackall's
face. The angry Gid responded with a blow landed on the side of Harry's
head. In an instant the two clinched, and the others, who were in no
better humor, began striking at one another in blind temper. Si and
Shorty snatched the two principals apart with a good deal of violence
and much show of their own tempers.
"You long legged sand hill crane," said Si, shaking Gid. "Will you
always be kickin' up a rumpus? I'll break your neck if you don't act
better."
"You senseless little bantam," said Shorty, with his grip on Harry's
throat; "will you always be raising a ruction? Will I have to wring your
neck to learn you to behave?"
"Let him alone, Shorty," said Si irritably. "He ain't to blame. This
gangling fly-up the crick started it." And he gave Gid another shake.
"You let him alone. Si," said Shorty crossly. "I know better. This whelp
started it, as he always does. I'll throw him down and tramp on him."
"You won't do nothin' o' the kind. Shorty. Don't you contradict me. Let
him go, I tell you."
"You take your hands off that boy, or I'll make you, Si Klegg," said
Shorty hotly. "I won't see you imposin' on somebody's that's smaller'n
you."
The spectacle of the two partners quarreling startled them all. They
stopped and looked aghast.
"Here, what's all this disorder here," said the Orderly, coming up,
impetuously, and as cross as any one. "Why don't you get into line as
ordered? Sergeant Klegg, you're always making trouble for me."
"I ain't doin' nothing o' the kind. What's the sense o' your sayin' sich
a thing?" Si retorted. "You know it ain't true."
"Si Klegg, be careful how you call me a liar," answered the Orderly.
"I'll--"
"What in the world does all this mean?" said Capt. McGillicuddy angrily,
as he stepped back to them. "What are you wasting time squabbling
before the men for? Fall into your places at once, and don't let me hear
another word from any of you. Don't you see the regiment is moving?"
"We'll finish this later," the Orderly whispered to Si, as he went to
his place on the right.
"I'll settle with you, Shorty, when I have more time," Si remarked as
he took his place.
"The sooner the better," grunted Shorty. "You can't run over me, if you
are a Sergeant."
The wearied men went stumbling along the rough road for what seemed
the longest mile ever known. It had grown very dark. At last a form
separated itself from the bank of blackness on the left, and a voice
said in a penetrating whisper:
"Is this the 200th Ind?"
"Yes," answered the Colonel.
"I'm Lieut. Snowden, of the General's staff," said the whisper.
"Yes; I recognize your voice," answered the Colonel.
"I was sent here," continued the Whisper, "to post you when you came
up. You will make this your right, and form out there to the left. Do it
without the slightest noise. There is a strong force of rebels out there
in front. They have a line of works with abatis in front, and a fort on
the hill there to the right, as you can see by looking up against the
sky. You will not allow any fires to be made or lights to be shown. The
other regiments will come up and form on your right and left, and you
will be ready to attack and carry the line immediately in front of you
the moment that it is light enough to see to move. The signal will be
given by the headquarters bugle."
"Very good," replied the Colonel. "Tell the General that we'll be ready,
and he'll find us inside the rebel line five minutes after the bugle
sounds."
"In the meanwhile," continue the Aid, "you will keep a sharp lookout.
You may be attacked, and if you see signs of evacuation you are to
attack, and the other regiments will support you. The General will come
up later and give you further instructions. Good night."
The men nearest the Colonel heard plainly all that was said, and it
was soon known throughout the regiment. The men seemed to forget their
fatigue as they moved alertly but warily into line to the left, and
studied intently the sky-line of the rising ground in front.
The whip-poor-wills were still calling, but at the flanks and rear of
the regiment. None of them called in front.
"It's full o' rebels over there; that's the reason," said Si to himself,
as he noted this. "Yes, they're all at home, and goin' to shoot," he
added in a loud whisper. "Lay down, everybody."
He was none too soon. The tramping through the bushes, and the various
noises that bodies of men will make when in motion, had reached the
ears of the alert rebels. A dazzling series of flashes ran along the
sky-line, and a flight of bullets sang wickedly over the heads of the
200th Ind., striking in the bushes and trees far behind them.
"Don't anybody yell! Don't anybody shoot!" called the Colonel in a loud
whisper, and it was repeated by the line oflficers. "It will reveal our
position. Lie down and keep perfectly quiet. They're overshooting us."
The rebel battery in the fort waked up, and, more to show its good will
than anything else, began shelling the surrounding landscape.
One of our batteries, a mile or so to the rear, which had not had an
opportunity to fire during the day, could not resist this challenge,
and began throwing shells at the fort with so fair an aim as to draw the
attention of the rebel battery to it.
The lurid flashes of the muskets, cannon, and shells revealed a belt of
jagged abatis several rods wide covering the entire front of the fort
and breastworks.
"Great Scott!" muttered Si to himself, for he was not on speaking terms
with Shorty, and would not alarm the boys; "there's a porcupine nest to
git through. How in the Nation are we ever goin' to do it?"
"Unroll your blankets and lie down on them," came down the line from the
Colonel. "Lay your guns beside you. Don't attempt to stack them. You may
attract the attention of the rebels. Everybody keep his place, and be
ready to form and move at once."
"Stop firing. What are you shooting at?" said a voice of authority in
the rebel works. "Who gave the order to fire?"
"The men began it themselves," said a second voice. "They heard Yankees
moving over there, and commenced shooting at them."
"How do you know there are any Yankees out there? I don't believe they
have advanced beyond the crest of the hill. I think they are all going
down toward Resaca. Haven't you any pickets out there?"
"No. We only moved in here this afternoon, and did not know how long we
were going to stay. I was ordered to stay here till further orders, to
protect the road beyond."
"Well, we haven't any ammunition to waste firing at uncertainties.
There's enough Yankees in sight all the time for all the bullets we
have, without wasting any on imaginary ones. It'll be time enough for
you to begin shooting when you see them coming to the edge of the abatis
there. Before they get through that you'll have time enough to shoot
away all the ammunition you have."
"I'm going to see whether there are any Yankees there," said the second
voice in the rebel works.
"Jim, you and Joe go down to the edge of the abatis and see what you can
see."
The wearied boys had nearly all fallen asleep on their blankets. Even
the noisy artillery duel had not kept Jim Humphreys awake, and Monty
Scruggs and Alf Russell followed his example soon after the firing
ceased. Then Harry Joslyn and Gid Mackall, spreading their blankets
apart for the first time since they had been in the service, sought
rest from their fatigue and forgetfulness of their mutual anger. Si
and Shorty kept sternly apart. Shorty occupied himself in fixing the
blankets comfortably for a nest for little Pete Skidmore, while Si,
brooding over the way that Shorty "had flared up about nothin' at all,"
and the Orderly-Sergeant's and Capt. McGillicuddy's unjust heat to him,
had kept his eyes fixed on the skyline beyond, and had listened to the
conversation of the rebel officers. It occurred to him that by watching
the two rebels come down he might get an idea of a passage through the
abatis, which would be useful in the morning. He strained his eyes to
catch sight of their movements.
He saw two projections against the sky-line, which he knew were the
men crossing the works. They separated, and he could make out two black
blotches above the level of darkness and moving down the slope. One came
almost directly toward him, the other going to the left. It occurred to
him to capture one of the men. He would have suggested to Shorty to
get the other, but he could not bring himself to speak to his partner.
Keeping his eyes fixed on the man directly in front, he slowly wriggled
forward without rising. The man was evidently coming cautiously, halting
every few steps, and looking and listening.
Perfect quiet reigned in the regiment. The men were mostly asleep. Those
who were awake were intently watching the hill for some sign of the
enemy, or as silently foreboding the happenings of the morrow.
Without making the least noise, Si reached the edge of the abatis. There
a young tulip tree had been left standing, and its plentiful branches
and large leaves made a thick mass of darkness. He rose upright behind,
but his foot came down on a dead stick, which broke with a sharp crack.
All the blood rushed to his heart. But at the same instant his head had
disturbed a whip-poor-will who had taken refuge there from the noise.
She flew away with a tumult of plaintive "whips." The rebel in front
halted for a long time. Then he apparently concluded that an owl was
after the whip-poor-will, and, reassured, came forward.
As he had crawled along. Si had felt with his hands that he was on a
tolerably beaten path, which ran by the sapling he was now standing
behind. He was sure that this led through the abatis, and the rebel
was coming down it. The rebel came on so near that Si could hear his
breathing, and Si feared he could hear his. The rebel was carrying his
gun at a trail in his right hand, and putting all his powers into his
eyes and ears to detect signs of the presence of Yankees. He hesitated
for a little while before the sapling, and then stepped past it.
As he did so Si shot out his right arm and caught him around the neck
with so quick and tight a hug that the rebel could not open his mouth
to yell. Si raised his arm so as to press the rebel's jaws together, and
with his left hand reached for his gun. The rebel swayed and struggled,
but the slender Southerner was no match for the broad-shouldered Indiana
boy, whose muscles had been knit by hard work.
The struggle was only momentary until Si secured the gun, and the
rebel's muscles relaxed from the stoppage of his breath.
"If you say a word, or try to, you're a dead man," Si whispered, as he
dropped the gun, and substituted his left hand at the man's throat for
his right arm. Taking silence for acquiescence, Si picked up his own gun
and started with his prisoner for the Colonel. He walked upright boldly
now, for the watchers on the rebel works could not see that there was
more than one man in the path.
The Colonel ordered Si to bring his prisoner back into a gully some
distance behind the line, where he could be interrogated without the
sound reaching the men in the works.
"Where do you belong?" asked the Colonel.
"To Kunnel Wheatstone's Jawjy rijimint."
"How many men have you got over there in the works."
"Well, a right smart passul."
"What do you mean by a right smart parcel?"
"Well, a good big heap."
"What, a thousand?"
"Yes, I reckon so."
"Ten thousand?"
"I 'spects so."
"Twenty thousand."
"Mouty likely."
"You don't seem to have a clear idea of numbers. How many regiments have
you got over there?"
"Well, thar's Kunnel Wheatstone's Jawjy rijimint--that's mine; then
thar's Kunnel Tarrant's South Carliny rijimint, and then thar's Kunnel
Bird's Tennessee rijimint, and I don't mind how many others. They've bin
comin' and goin' all day, and I hain't paid no attention to 'em. I only
know that thar's enough to give yo'uns a wallopin' if yo'uns only come
on."
"Sergeant," said the Colonel, "you did a splendid thing in capturing
this man and bringing him to me, but I fear I shall not get as much
information out of him as I'd like to. I don't presume anybody really
knows just how many men are over there. We've got to jump the works and
take the chances on what we find."
"We're ready the minute you give the word. Colonel," said Si, saluting.
"Colonel," said Shorty's voice out of the darkness, "I've brung you one
o' the rebel scouts that was piroutin' out there. I don't know as you
kin make much out o' him, though, for the welt I fetched him with my gun
bar'l seems to've throwed his thinkery out o' gear, and he can't talk
straight."
"And so you got the other one," Si started to say to his partner, but
then he remembered Shorty's "flarin' up," and held his tongue.
"I don't imagine that his 'thinkery,' as you call it, was of much
account when it was in order, if it was no better than this other
man's," said the Colonel, with a smile. "Perhaps, if he could
think better he wouldn't be in the rebel army. Sergeant (to the
Provost-Sergeant), take charge of these two men. Give them something to
eat, and send them to Division Headquarters."
Si and Shorty carefully avoided one another on their way back to
the company, and declined to discuss their exploits with either the
Orderly-Sergeant or Capt. McGillicuddy.
"Go out and git you a rebel for yourself, if you want to know about
'em," Shorty had snapped at the Orderly. "There's plenty more up there
on the hill. It's full of 'em."
As everything now seemed quiet in front, the two partners sat down with
their back against trees to catch a little sleep before the momentous
movement in the morning.
It seemed to Si that he had hardly closed his eyes when the Orderly
shook him and whispered an order to help arouse the men and get them
into line.
"Don't make the least noise," whispered the Orderly. "I hear the rebels
moving around, but we want to jump 'em before they know we're up. The
further we can get through that abatis before they discover us, the
fewer we'll have killed. It's going to be mighty tough work at best, and
I wish that we were going over the works now."
It was the chill gray of the morning, when every man's spirits and
courage are at ebb-tide. For an instant, Si felt his heart sink at the
thought of the awful ordeal that confronted them. There came across
his mind a swift vision of the peaceful home back in Indiana, with the
pleasant fields lying about, over which he used to go on sweet Spring
mornings like this and note the flowers that had bloomed over night, and
the growth the wheat had made. How sickening to be now starting to open
up a hell of pain, wounds, and death. Then his natural courage and
will reasserted themselves, and he began rousing the boys, but with a
tenderness born of the thought that their hearts would be as low as his
in that bleak hour.
Jim Humphreys waked up stolidly, and without a word began preparing to
fall in. Alf Russell's and Monty Scruggs's faces turned ashy after
they had fairly awakened, and they picked up their guns with nerveless
fingers.
Harry Joslyn took the position of a soldier, with his gun at an order,
his lips tightly closed, and his eyes fixed on the rebel position, as
the spreading light developed it. Sandy Baker fidgeted about at one time
tinkering with his gun and equipments, and then stopping half-way in
the task he had started and falling into a fit of musing. Little Pete
Skidmore wandered about, looking into Si's and Shorty's grave faces, and
then into others equally solemn, and finding no comfort in any. It was
the first time that he heard no joke or quip flash along the forming
line to bring cheers or laughter.
"Come, boys," said Si, kindly, "eat your breakfasts. You can't make no
coffee nor fry no meat, but you'd better fill up on cold grub. You'll
need all you can eat."
The mention of something to eat seemed to remind Gid Mackall of his
usual appetite. He pulled a cracker out of his haversack and bit it, but
it seemed distasteful, and he spat the piece out.
"The orders are," said the Orderly-Sergeant in a low tone, as he passed
down in front of the company, "to strip off your bankets, canteens, and
haversacks, and pile them. They'll be in the road in the rush, and catch
in going through the abatis."
"Orderly," said Shorty in his most conciliatory way, "if you want to do
me a favor make Pete Skidmore one of the detail."
"I ain't asking suggestions from you," said the Orderly, still surly.
"But I shall detail Baker and Skidmore for the duty."
The boys flung their things off with something like desperation in their
looks.
It was now daylight, but a dense fog prevented seeing more than a few
feet.
"We can't wait any longer," said the Colonel. "Pass the word down the
line to move forward. Make no noise till the enemy opens fire. Then
everybody push forward as rapidly as possible for the works."
"The first fire will probably go over our heads and do little damage,"
said Capt. McGillicuddy, stepping down to the center, so that his
whisper could be heard by all. "It's always so when men fire downhill.
Then, you all want to be careful and fire low, so as to hit as many as
possible, and rattle them in their future firing. The more of them we
can hit the less of us will be hit afterward. Forward--Guide right!"
It seemed as if the crashing of their marching feet was so loud that
the rebels on the hill could not fail to hear it, and they held their
breaths in painful expectancy of the volley. But they had gotten a rod
or more into the entangling brush of the abatis, and were stumbling and
crashing amid the baffling branches, before they heard the voice of the
previous night command:
"Ready--Aim--aim low--Fire!"
The rebel muskets crashed together in a terrific volley, which generally
passed over the heads of the 200th Ind., though a few men fell into the
brush with wounds.
Si had gone up the path that he had found the night before, and
therefore had no struggle with the fallen trees to shake his nerves and
disturb his aim. He had calculated upon this. He brought his musket down
deliberately and took good aim at the point whence the voice of command
had come. As his gun cracked he heard voices cry:
"The Kunnel's shot. Look out for the Kunnel thar."
Another voice immediately spoke up in command: "Steady, men! Keep cool!
Fire low, and give it to the blue-bellied scoundrels!"
Then broke out a mad rage of death and destruction, in which both sides
seemed in the fiercest insanity of murder. The 200th Ind., encouraged
by the shouts of their officers, pressed forward through the baffling
tree-tops, stumbling, falling, rising again, firing as fast as they
could load their guns, and yelling like demons. They were frantic to
get through the obstructions and come to hand-to-hand struggle with the
fiends who were yelling and firing from the top of the breastworks.
The rebel battery in the fort began hurling a tornado of shells as near
as they could bring their guns to bear on the yelling. This aroused
its enemy battery of the night before, and it opened up viciously. The
regiments to the right and left of the 200th Ind. moved forward at the
sound of the firing, and added to the dinning turbulence.
Si had kept to the path, firing coolly and with deadly aim as he kept
pace with the line, which was fiercely forging through the brush. There
had gathered behind him Jim Humphreys, Harry Joslyn, and Gid Mackall.
The rest had gathered over toward Shorty, who was raging through the
abatis, tearing aside the branches which impeded the others, yelling,
swearing most horribly, and firing as a loaded gun would be handed him.
He happened to look around to see who was handing him guns, and saw that
it was Pete Skidmore and Sandy Baker.
"I thought you little brats was ordered to stay behind with the things,"
he gasped.
"I know we was," whimpered little Pete as he capped a gun and handed it
to Shorty; "but we couldn't stay when we heard the yelling and shooting.
We was so scared that we was afraid to stay there, so we hunted you up,
and--"
"Come on, boys," yelled Shorty to the others. "Go ahead. We're almost
through, and then we'll salivate them whelps of damnation."
A bullet came so nigh Si's face that it seemed to burn him, and then he
heard it strike. Jim Humphreys fell without a groan--a bullet through
his brain.
"Don't mind that. Forward, boys," shouted Si. "Here's the end of the
abatis."
Gid Mackall fell, and Harry Joslyn turned to help him.
"Don't mind him. Come on," Si called over his shoulder, as he rushed in
the clear place, just at the edge of the shallow ditch in front of the
works. "Everybody this way."
[Illustration: THE CHARGE THRU THE ABATIS. 211]
All that was left of the regiment was now through the abatis. The fog
suddenly lifted, and showed the combatants face to face, with only the
ditch and the bank of earth between them. The sight was so startling
that both sides paused for an instant.
"Forward, 200th Ind.! Rally on your colors!" rang out the clear, sweet,
penetrating voice of the Colonel, as he snatched the colors from the
hand of the third man who had borne them since the regiment moved
forward, and sprang up the side of the works.
Of the pandemonium that reigned inside the rebel works for the next few
minutes Si only recollected seeing the Orderly-Sergeant, bareheaded, and
with bayonet fixed, leap down from the bank and transfix a man who tried
to snatch the flag from the Colonel's hand. Si arrived just in time to
shoot the rebel officer who was striking at the Orderly with his sword,
while Shorty came up, knocking down a winrow of men with his gun swung
by the butt as a club, to rescue Si from three rebels who were trying to
bayonet him.
All at once the entire rebel line broke and ran down the hill in a wave
of dingy brown, while another wave of blue rolled over the works to the
right and left of the 200th Ind.
"I hope you ain't hurt, Orderly," said Si, dropping the butt of his
musket on the ground, and wiping his flushed face. "I thought that
officer was goin' to git you, sure."
"He would, if it hadn't been for you, Si. He got in one slash on me, but
it ain't much, I think. But Shorty helped you out of a tight box."
"Yes; Shorty generally does that," said Si, with a beaming look on
his partner. "He's the best soldier in the regiment, and kin always be
trusted to git in on time anywhere."
"Well, I'm afraid it 'll be a short roll I'll have to call this
evening," said the Orderly, with a sorrowful expression. "I suppose
we'd better go back through that brush and look up the boys that were
dropped."