CHICKAMAUGA.
Quick the changes. Paul was once more with the army, amid the mountains
of Tennessee, marching upon Chattanooga with General Rosecrans, tramping
over Lookout Mountain, and along the Chickamauga.
Then came a day of disaster in September. A great battle began on
Saturday morning, lasted through Sunday, and closed on Monday. Paul rode
courageously where duty called him, through the dark woods, along the
winding river, where the bullets sang, where the shells burst, where
hundreds of brave men fell. Terrible the contest. It was like a
thunder-storm among the mountains,--like the growling of the angry surf
upon the shore of the ocean. How trying, after hours of hard fighting,
to see the lines waver and behold the Rebels move victoriously over the
field! with disaster setting in, and to know that all that is worth
living for is trembling in the scale!
There are such moments in battle. General Rosecrans's army was
outnumbered. Paul saw the Rebels driving in the centre and turning the
left flank to cut off all retreat to Chattanooga. The moment for great,
heroic action had come. He felt the blood leap through his veins as it
never had leaped before. The Rebel line was advancing up the hill. The
Union batteries were making ready to leave.
"Stay where you are!" he shouted. "Give them canister! Double shot the
guns! Quick! One minute now is worth a thousand hours."
"Rally! rally! Don't let them have the guns!" he shouted to the flying
troops. They were magic words. Men who had started to run came back.
Those who were about to leave stood in their places, ready to die where
they were. Five minutes passed; they seemed ages. On--nearer--up to the
muzzles of the guns came the Rebels; then, losing heart, fled down the
hill, where hundreds of their comrades lay dying and dead. Their efforts
to break the line had failed. But once more they advanced in stronger
force, rushing up the hill. Fearful the din and strife, the shouts and
yells, the clashing of sabres and bayonets, the roar of the cannon, the
explosion of shells. Paul found himself suddenly falling, then all was
dark.
When he came to himself the scene had changed. He was lying upon the
ground. A soldier, wearing a dirty gray jacket, and with long hair, was
pulling off his boots, saying, "This Yankee has got a pair of boots
worth having."
"Hold on! what are you up to?" said Paul.
"Hullo! blue bellie, ye are alive, are ye? Tho't yer was dead. Reckon
I'll take yer boots, and yer coat tew."
Paul saw how it was: he was wounded, and left on the field. He was in
the hands of the Rebels; but hardest to bear was the thought that the
army had been defeated. He was stiff and sore. The blood was oozing from
a wound in his side. He was burning up with fever. He asked the Rebels
who were around him for a drink of water; but, instead of moistening his
parched lips, one pointed his gun at him and threatened to blow out his
brains. They stripped off his coat and picked his pockets. Around him
were hundreds of dead men. The day wore away and the night came on. He
opened his lips to drink the falling dew, and lay with his face towards
the stars. He thought of his mother, of home, of Azalia, of the angels
and God. Many times he had thought how sad it must be to die alone upon
the battle-field, far from friends; but now he remembered the words of
Jesus Christ: "I will not leave you comfortless. My peace I give unto
you." Heaven seemed near, and he felt that the angels were not far away.
He had tried to do his duty. He believed that, whether living or dying,
God would take care of him, and of his mother. In his soul there was
sweet peace and composure; but what was the meaning of the strange
feeling creeping over him, the numbness of his hands, the fluttering of
his heart? Was it not the coming on of death? He remembered the prayer
of his childhood, lisped many a time while kneeling by his mother's
side, and repeated it once more.
"Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep;
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take."
The stars were fading. His senses reeled. His eyelids closed, and he lay
pale, cold, and motionless, among the dead.