The young soldiers were awakened. They started to rise with a
cheerful exchange of chatter, but were sternly commanded to silence.
Nevertheless, they talked in whispers and told one another how they
would wipe the Yankees off the face of the earth. Workers from the
shops in the big cities of the North could not stand before them,
the open air sons of the South. They stretched their long limbs,
felt their big muscles, and wondered why they were not led forward at
once.
But before they marched they were ordered to take food from their
knapsacks and eat. Five minutes at most were allowed, and there was to
be no nonsense, no loud talking. Some who had come north with negro
servants stared at these officers who dared to talk to them as if they
were slaves. But the words of anger stopped at their lips. They would
take their revenge instead on the Yankees.
Harry and his two friends had fitted themselves already into military
discipline and military ways. They ate, not because they were hungry,
but because they knew it was a necessity. Meanwhile, the faint gray
band in the east was broadening. The note of a bugle, distant, mellow,
and musical, came from a point down the slope.
"The Yankee fort," said Langdon. "They're waking up, too. But I'm
looking for the best, boys, and inside of two hours that Yankee fort
will be a Confederate fort."
The note of the bugle seemed to decide the Southern officers. The men
were ordered to see to their arms and march. The officers dismounted as
the way would be rough and left their horses behind. The troops formed
into several columns and four light guns went down the slope with them.
Scouts who had been out in the night came back and reported that the
fort, consisting wholly of earthworks, had a garrison of a thousand men
with eight guns. They were New York and New England troops and they did
not suspect the presence of an enemy. They were just lighting their
breakfast fires.
The Southern columns moved forward in quiet, still hidden by the forest,
which also yet hid the Northern fort. Harry's heart began to beat
heavily, but he forced himself to preserve the appearance of calmness.
Pride stiffened his will and backbone. He was a veteran. He had been
at Sumter. He had seen the great bombardment, and he had taken a part
in it. He must show these raw men how a soldier bore himself in battle,
and, moreover, he was an officer whose business it was to lead.
The deep forest endured as they advanced in a diagonal line down the
slope. The great civil war of North America was fought mostly in the
forest, and often the men were not aware of the presence of one another
until they came face to face.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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