United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction; War stories
They gained the other side of the field, but as they entered the welcome
shelter of the woods they encountered an officer with a drawn sword,
commanding a line of men.
"Stop there, you infernal, cowardly rascals," he yelled. "Pick up those
guns there, and get into line, or I'll shoot you. You, Corporal, ought
to be ashamed of yourself."
"We're after ammunition for the 200th Ind.," gasped Si. "We must have it
right away. Where's the division ammunition train?"
"That ammunition story's played. Can't work it on me. Where's your
regiment? Where's your79 caps? Where's your shoes? Where's your guns?
You're rattled out of your senses. Stop here and cool off. Pick up guns
there and fall into line."
"Name o' God, Lieutenant," said Shorty excitedly. "This's no time for
any foolishness. Our regiment's out there on the hill without any
ammunition. The rebels are gittin' ready to jump it, four or five to
one. Don't fool, for heaven's sake. There's not a minute to waste. Come
with us and help us git the ammunition. That's a blame sight more
important than stoppin' these here runaways, who're no good when they
are stopped. Come along, for God's sake."
His earnestness impressed the Lieutenant.
"Lieut. Evans," he called out, "take command of the line while I go back
with these men to the ammunition-train. I can get it quicker for them
than they can. Your Colonel should have sent a commissioned officer with
you."
"The Colonel needs all the officers he has left with him," panted
Shorty, running ahead of the rest. "Everybody back there's got all he
can attend to, and we couldn't really be spared."
There was a crowd of similar men surging around the ammunition wagons,
each eager to get his load and rush back. The covers of the wagons had
been torn off, and a man stood in each, pitching the boxes to the
clamoring details. All were excited and reckless. The pitching would be
wild, or the catching bad, and occasionally a box would strike a man on
the head or body and knock him down. He would scarcely stop to swear,
but snatch up his precious box and rush off toward his regiment.80
"Open out here, let us in," commanded the Lieutenant, striking right and
left with the flat of his sword. It was not a moment for gentle
courtesies. The crowd opened up, and Si and Shorty pushed in near the
wheels.
"Now give us six boxes in a hurry," commanded the Lieutenant.
Si caught the first box, Shorty the second, and before the Lieutenant
was hardly done speaking the rest had theirs, and started back on the
run, accompanied by the Lieutenant. The boxes were very heavy and the
mud was deep, but they went faster than they had ever done, even when
running from the rebels.
"I'm awfully afraid you'll have a time getting across the field there,"
said the Lieutenant, as they came to the edge, and he surveyed the
ground in front doubtfully. "Lieut. Evans says they've moved a battery
up closer, and are sweeping the field with canister."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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