The Blue and the Gray; Or, The Civil War as Seen by a Boy: A Story of Patriotism and Adventure in Our War for the UnionWhite, Annie Randall
History
The Blue and the Gray; Or, The Civil War as Seen by a Boy: A Story of Patriotism and Adventure in Our War for the Union
White, Annie Randall
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
Ralph's curiosity would never be silenced. “Do you like it?” he asked.
“Yes, and no. I have been in several engagements, but the hardest blow
I had was when they carried my father home dead, and I asked for a
furlough, to go home to see him once more, and was refused.”
Here the boy nearly broke down. Ralph's sympathies were aroused at
once. He knew not what to say. But Charlie recovered himself soon, and
continued--“You see how I'm placed now. I shall _have_ to take you into
our camp.”
“I wish Bill were here!” Ralph blurted out. “He wouldn't see me taken
prisoner so easily.”
To him Bill represented the sum total of all knowledge, and he felt
confident of his ability to rescue him, even in the face of the danger
that now menaced him.
A low whistle startled both boys. A few feet from them, stretched
lengthwise of a fallen tree, lay Bill, who raised his head, which was
bleeding freely.,
“I've a good mind to take you both prisoners!” he said, jocosely. “What
are you exchanging courtesies for? The boy's right. Unless we can get
away in a very big hurry, he can land us both in the rebel camp, and
then it'll be all over with us. You'd better be planning each other's
escape, and then you'll both be likely to be court-martialed!”
“It's my luck, isn't it? I can't blame Charlie if he does take me. But I
haven't got anything against him.”
“Neither has any of us got anything against any of the Johnnies. This is
not a personal affair, at all. But just the same we've got to fight 'em
because they're agin the government.”
Ralph looked closer at Bill. “You're wounded, and will be carried to
prison, too! Oh, Bill, what will become of you?”
{097}
[Illustration: 0105]
“It's nothing but a scratch. I lay here awhile till those fellows'
{098}guns gave out, for I felt a little dizzy, and didn't care to get up
till the smoke cleared away, and I could make out my bearings.”
A groan from their companion recalled them to their position. Ralph was
in a fever of anxiety. War was a brutalizing affair, he pondered.
“You mustn't have any feelings at all, Bill, if you want to be a good
soldier.”
“Nary a feeling. Humanity don't cut no figger in a battle. Why, boy,
I've stood in the ranks and seen father on one side, and son on the
other, blazing away with hate and bitterness in their eyes. And all
on account of a mere difference of opinion.” Ralph shuddered. “It is
dreadful; but war shall never make me so hardened and indifferent to
suffering that I will not do all I can in honor to relieve it. I intend
to fulfill all my duties as a soldier, but do not see why I should
hesitate to show mercy to an injured foe.”
“He's the right sort,” Bill chuckled to himself.
With that thought in his mind, Ralph went nearer to Charlie, and
said--“Give me your handkerchief, and I will bandage your ankle.” In a
few moments he had finished binding it on, tightly and skillfully, while
the boy looked his gratitude.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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