United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
Scarcely had we parted from him and surmounted the next rise in the
road when we came suddenly upon indubitable evidence of battle and
retreat. About a mile in advance of us the road was filled and the
fields dotted with wagons and men belonging to the various brigade,
division, and corps headquarters, and in among them officers’ servants
with led horses, and here and there a broken ambulance, sutlers’
supply-trains, a battery forge or two, horses and mules hastily packed
with officers’ mess-kits, led by their cooks, and now and then a
group of soldiers, evidently detailed enlisted men attached to the
headquarters trains. In fact, this was the first driftwood of a flood
just beyond and soon to come sweeping down the road. Passing this
accumulation of débris with a rush by leaving the pike and galloping
over the open fields on the side of the road, we pushed rapidly on; but
not so quickly but that we caught an echoing cheer from the enlisted
men and servants, who recognized the General, and shouted and swung
their hats in glee.
Within the next few miles the pike and adjacent fields began to be
lined and dotted everywhere with army wagons, sutlers’ outfits,
headquarters supply-trains, disabled caissons, and teamsters with led
mules, all drifting to the rear; and now and then a wounded officer
or enlisted man on horseback or plodding along on foot, with groups
of straggling soldiers here and there among the wagon-trains, or in
the fields, or sometimes sitting or lying down to rest by the side of
the road, while others were making coffee in their tin cups by tiny
camp-fires. Soon we began to see small bodies of soldiers in the fields
with stacked arms, evidently cooking breakfast. As we turned into the
fields and passed around the wagons and through these groups, the
General would wave his hat to the men and point to the front, never
lessening his speed as he pressed forward. It was enough; one glance at
the eager face and familiar black horse and they knew him, and starting
to their feet, they swung their caps around their heads and broke
into cheers as he passed beyond them; and then, gathering up their
belongings and shouldering their arms, they started after him for the
front, shouting to their comrades farther out in the fields, “Sheridan!
Sheridan!” waving their hats, and pointing after him as he dashed
onward; and they too comprehended instantly, for they took up the cheer
and turned back for the battlefield.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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