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
General Burnside's resolve to bombard the place had no power to oust the
sharpshooters, even when tons of shells were thrown into its streets,
setting fire to many of the buildings. When, after a brief rest, the
engineers resumed the construction of the bridges, the same result
followed--destruction of their numbers.
The town itself was almost impregnable, being completely encircled by
hills, save on the river side. These heights were bristling with forts,
entrenchments seamed them in every direction, and batteries were planted
in such profusion that no opening presented itself for attack. {147}
[Illustration: 0156]
How long this slaughter would have continued it is hard to tell,
{148}but a happy inspiration came to General Hunt, chief of artillery.
He suggested that a body of men could make a dash for the river, cross
in boats, and besiege the sharpshooters in the houses, driving them out,
and taking possession.
The daring of the plan almost took away one's breath, but it seemed the
only way to silence the enemy's murderous fire, and it was quickly put
in execution. The pontoon boats lay at the river bank. A band of tried
men was selected for the perilous undertaking, who at a sign, without a
sound or word of command, rushed from their concealment, leaped into the
boats, shot out from the shore, and were half across the stream before
the Confederates realized their intention. Then came a shower of bullets
from their rifles, rattling like hailstones about the heads of the
brave men, who held boards up before them for protection, dodging the
murderous fire as well as they could, while those who were rowing pulled
with a will, and the boats were across the stream in swift time. A few
were shot, falling into the river, but the largest number went over
safely.
Reaching the shore, the regiments ran up the hills, and succeeded in
forcing the sharpshooters from their lairs, capturing over a hundred of
them, while the rest fled to the hills.
The way was now clear for the completion of the bridges. A pontoon
bridge is a fine piece of ingenuity.
Heavy boats, perfectly flat, often twenty feet in length, are anchored
at equal distances from each other, lengthwise of the current, and beams
are placed upon them to unite them; then strong, thick planks are laid
across the beams, thus making a steady, wide roadway, strong enough to
endure the weight of horses, heavy pieces of artillery, and the tramp of
thousands of men.
While the bridge was being made, the enemy did not remain quiet, but
dropped shells at various points along the river, which exploded, but
happily did little injury.
{149}
[Illustration: 0158]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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