The Star of Gettysburg: A Story of Southern High TideAltsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
History
The Star of Gettysburg: A Story of Southern High Tide
Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Juvenile fiction
The sun was near the zenith and the afternoon grew warm. They had come
upon hard, dry paths, and under the tread of the army great clouds of
dust arose, but it did not float high in the air, the thick boughs of
the trees and bushes catching it. But as it hovered so close to the
ground it made the breathing of the soldiers difficult and painful.
It rasped their throats, and soon they began to burn with the heat.
Many fell exhausted beside the paths, but they were helped by their
comrades or were put into the wagons, and the long column of steel never
ceased to wind onward.
Near the middle of the afternoon, when they were about to cross the
western extension of the plank road, a young cavalry officer galloped up
and rode straight for Jackson. It was Fitzhugh Lee, whose services were
great at Chancellorsville. His glowing face showed that he brought news
of great importance.
As he saluted, General Jackson checked his horse and Harry heard his
general ask:
"You bring news. What is it?"
"I do, sir," responded young Lee eagerly. "I have something to show
you. A great Northern force is only a short distance away, and it does
not suspect your advance at all. If you will come with me to the crest
of a little hill here, I can show them to you."
Jackson never hesitated a moment, signing to Harry to follow him,
evidently meaning to use him as a courier, if need arose. The three
then turned and rode through the bushes toward the hill, and Harry's
heart beat so hard that it gave him an actual physical pain when he
looked down on the sight below. He glanced at Jackson and saw that
his face was flushed and his eyes glowing.
They were gazing upon a great Northern force which was to protect
Hooker's right. Its first lines were only three or four hundred yards
away. There were breastworks and other lines of defense running far
through the forest, positions that were formidable, but not manned at
this moment by riflemen or cannoneers. Rifles were stacked neatly
behind the intrenchments, extending in a long line as far as they could
see. Thousands of soldiers were sitting on the grass and among the
bushes, some asleep, some playing games, while others were cooking,
reading newspapers sent from the North, and some were singing. It was a
picture of idleness and ease in a camp, and not one among them suspected
that thirty thousand veterans of the South, led by Stonewall Jackson
himself, were within rifle shot, hidden under the vast canopy of the
Wilderness.
Harry drew a deep breath, and then another. It was extraordinary,
unbelievable, but it was true. He looked again at Jackson and saw that
his eyes were still burning with blue fire. The general gazed for five
minutes, but never said a word. Then he turned and rode down the hill,
and swiftly the word was passed through the army that they would soon be
upon the enemy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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