|You've done well,” said the general. “Now go and lie down somewhere and
get all the sleep you can, as you 'll have enough to do to-morrow.”
Harry touched his cap in acknowledgment of the command and then jogged
back to camp, which was not more than a mile to the rear. Learning that
it was possible to get to the bank of the creek without danger, he rode
down there and watered his horse. The animal drank long and eagerly, as
he had not had a drop of water through the long and active day. Then he
returned to the camp, and fastening the animal to a wagon-wheel, having
first filled his nose-bag with grain, he lay down beneath the wagon and
tried to sleep.
But he slept very little, probably not thirty minutes altogether.
Everything was in commotion around the camp. Ambulances were coming
and going to bring in the wounded men; the doctors were busy with their
suffering patients; men were sitting or standing in little groups,
deeply engaged in speculating on the probable events of the morrow;
mounted men were moving about with orders or messages or seeking missing
officers or soldiers, and probably not one person in twenty thought of
sleep. In the whole position occupied by the army during that night it
is probable that the most quiet spot was where the division of General
Carr had bivouacked in front of the enemy, for there, at any rate, they
slept undisturbed.
At the beginning of the battle in the morning all the teams had been
harnessed, to be ready to move the wagons whenever wanted. The mules
had not been fed for forty-eight hours, nor had they received a drop
of water for half that time. The voice of a mule at its best is not
melodious, and when to the ordinary sound of his bray is added a
plaintive wail of suffering it falls distressingly on the ear. Lower and
lower grew the note till it fell to a moan that was well calculated
to banish sleep from any one not entirely worn out with exertion. So
thought Harry, and after several vain endeavors he rose to his feet and
joined one of the groups of soldiers and drivers who were discussing the
situation.
During the evening the lines of the army were drawn in on the left and
preparations were made to bring the forces of Sigel and Davis, who had
suffered but slightly during the day, to the relief of the worn out
division of General Carr. The concentration was completed by midnight:
General Davis's division was placed on the left, General Carr's in the
center, and the two divisions of General Sigel held the right of our
line. Thus arranged, the brunt of the fighting would be concentrated on
Sigel's command in case the rebels remained in the positions where they
were at nightfall. In case they had changed during the night, it would
enable General Carr to be quickly re-enforced if the odds against him
should be as heavy as they were on the day before.
Harry rode out to the front again a little before daylight, and as he
passed along the road he heard the sound of vocal music rolling up from
the German regiments that composed the greater part of General Sigel's
command. He was unacquainted with German, and so the words of the song
were unknown to him, but the music under the circumstances sounded
strangely. “And yet,” he remarked to himself, “it seems to me that I've
read of something of the kind somewhere else.
“Now I remember,” said he, suddenly, as he straightened in his saddle;
“it was in the Crimean war, the night before the storming of the
Malakofï and Redan and the capture of Sebastopol. I recall it all now;
the whole British army in the trenches sang the words of a Scottish air,
with which all were familiar, and the story has been told in verse by
Bayard Taylor. Here are some of his lines:
“'They sang of love, and not of fame,
Forgot was Britain's glory.
Each heart recalled a different name
But all sang Annie Laurie.
“'Voice after voice caught up the song,
Until its tender passion
Rose like an anthem rich and strong,
Their battle eve's confession.
“'Dear girl, the name he dared not speak
Yet as the song grew louder,
Something upon the soldier's cheek
Washed off the stain of powder.
“'And Irish Nora's eyes are dim
For a singer dumb and gory;
And English Mary mourns for him
Who sang of Annie Laurie.
“'Sleep, soldiers, in your honored rest,
Your truth and valor bearing;
The bravest are the tenderest,
The loving are the daring.'
“Perhaps that's a love song the Germans are singing,” thought Harry,
as he paused in repeating the lines of the verses given above, “and they
are acting over again the scene of the attack on Sebastopol. I hope the
battle will turn out as well for us as did that one for the allied army
of the English and French.”
Daybreak came and then sunrise. Harry had hoped for a clear morning,
but his hopes were doomed to disappointment. During the previous day the
smoke had frequently hung thickly over the field, at times rendering the
combatants invisible to each other and greatly hindering the movements
on both sides. All through that cool and almost frosty night the smoke
hung low over the ground, and as the sun rose on the morning of the
eighth of March it pierced through a cloud that seemed more like fog
than any thing else, and was first visible as a dull ball of copper,
on which the youth could easily fix his eyes without blinking. The sun
showed itself only a short time and then the sky became overcast, and
for a while it looked as though the day might be rainy.
We will now listen to Harry's account of the last day's fighting.
“I thought they would begin at daylight, and so did everybody else;
or at any rate, everybody was ready on our side for the opening of the
battle. But though we could see the rebels in strong force right in
front of us, and evidently as ready as we were, there was hardly a shot
fired, except by the skirmishers, until after eight o'clock. They left
the opening of the day's work to us, and we did n't go about it till we
were 'good and ready.'
“General Curtis intended the heaviest of the fighting for General
Sigel's two divisions, as they had suffered least on the day before.
The rebels had been busy during the night, and planted some of their
batteries on a hill perhaps a hundred feet high, which sloped away to
the north, but was quite steep on the face toward us. It was very much
such a position as we had at Sugar Creek, where the enemy wisely chose
not to attack. Now we had no choice but to attack them, and they were
prepared for a vigorous defense, as they had large masses of supporting
infantry at the base of the hill on both sides, and also several pieces
of artillery scattered among the infantry.
“Under cover of the woods at the edge of the corn-field which lay
between us and the enemy, General Sigel planted his batteries and drew
up his infantry and cavalry where they could give efficient support. We
wondered why the rebels did not open fire upon him while he was getting
ready, but we learned afterward that they felt confident of defeating
him when the actual fighting should begin, and besides they were short
of artillery ammunition and wanted to make every shot tell. They argued
that if they opened fire the guns would be withdrawn and they would
be compelled to leave the place, where they had so much advantage of
position, and follow us wherever we drew them.
“I stood where I could see pretty much all that was going on there, and
it was certainly a wonderful picture. The white and withered stalks of
the corn in the field contrasted sharply with the dark-blue coats of
our men when they advanced from the edge of the wood to the open ground,
and, luckily for us, the smoke blew away a little before eight o' clock
and gave us a clear view across the field. We could easily make out the
rebel lines and the positions of the cannon that were ready to open upon
us. Our cannoneers stood to their guns and waited the command to open
fire; the rebel artillery-men were evidently doing the same thing, and
on both sides the infantry were prepared for whatever was demanded of
it.
“General Sigel gave the order, and a dozen cannon fired very quickly,
one after the other. Each gunner took sight against a tree on the hill
where the rebel batteries were stationed, and tried the effect of
his shot upon it. The first shots were too high, and a turn of the
elevating-screw depressed the muzzle of the gun. The second shot was
generally too high, though with some it proved just right; but with
nearly every gun the third shot was exactly the proper range. Then the
aim was taken at the rebel guns that were just beginning to fire, and
for nearly two hours there was an artillery duel, in which the infantry
had little to do but to look on.
“Through their glasses the officers could see that our fire was having
terrible effect. Several of the rebel cannon were disabled and sent
to the rear. Several of our guns were disabled and retired, and their
places promptly filled by others; but somehow the enemy did not seem to
have a reserve to draw upon. Their fire slackened, their infantry seemed
to be melting away, and through the smoke several of their men ran
across to our lines and surrendered.
“This confirmed what had already been reported through our camp, that
General McCulloch had been killed, and also General McIntosh, one of
their best officers, and formerly of the regular army. They said they
had been entirely confident of capturing all of us, but the death of
these generals had disheartened a good many of the men; and they were
very short of provisions and ammunition.
“We had thirty pieces of artillery playing on the rebels at one time.
They could not respond with so many, and as their artillery fire
slackened General Sigel suddenly ordered some of the guns to change
their fire into the ranks of the infantry and cavalry that were waiting
on the enemy's flanks ready to charge us when ordered.
“The shell, grape and canister tore great swaths in the crowded ranks
and piled up windrows of dead and wounded. No troops except the most
stolid Asiatics could stand such a fire as that. The cavalry and
infantry melted away, and the artillery was without support.
“A battery of three guns on an open space at one side of the hill, and
near the road, became troublesome, and the fire of one of our batteries
was turned upon it. Then, as the return fire slackened, the wind blew
away the smoke and revealed its exact position.
“'Send a regiment to take that battery,' said General Sigel to one of
his staff.
“The honor was given to the Twelfth Missouri, and as soon as the order
was received away they dashed for their work. Across the field they went
at full charge, losing twelve men killed outright and more than twice
that number wounded, but not once did they halt. When the rebels saw
them coming they rallied several companies of infantry to the support of
the battery, but too late to save it. The charge was successful and the
guns were ours.”