The Sword of Antietam: A Story of the Nation's CrisisAltsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
History
The Sword of Antietam: A Story of the Nation's Crisis
Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Juvenile fiction
But the boys soon heard that despite the winter there was great activity
in the Southern camp. Undismayed by their loss of Kentucky, the Southern
generals meant to fight Rosecrans in Tennessee. The Confederacy had
not been cheered by Lee's withdrawal at Antietam and Bragg's retreat at
Perryville, and meant to strike a heavy blow for new prestige. The whole
Confederate army, they soon heard, had moved forward to Murfreesborough,
where it was waiting, while Forrest and Morgan, the famous cavalry
leaders, were off on great raids.
It was this absence of Forrest and Morgan with the best of the cavalry
that put it into the mind of Rosecrans to attack at once. The thousands
of lads in the army who were celebrating Christmas received that night
the news that they were to march in the morning.
“I've fought three great battles this year,” said Warner, “and I don't
think they ought to ask any more of me.”
“Be comforted,” said Dick. “We start to-morrow, the 26th, which leaves
five days of the year, and I don't think we can arrange a battle in that
time. You'll not have to whip Bragg before the New Year, George.”
“Well, I'm glad of it. You can have too many battles in one year. I
didn't get rest enough after my wound at the Second Manassas before I
had to go in and save our army at Antietam, and then it was but a little
time before we fought at Perryville. That wasn't as big a battle as some
of the others, but Dick, for those mad three hours it seemed that all
the demons of death were turned loose.”
“It certainly looked like it, George, you stiff old Vermonter, and I
don't forget that you came to save me.”
“Shut up about that, or I'll hit you over the head with the butt of my
pistol. I merely paid back, though I only paid about half of what I
was owing to you. The chance luckily came sooner than I had hoped. But,
Dick, what a morning to follow Christmas.”
A chilly rain was pouring down. A cold fog was rising from the
Cumberland, wrapping the town in mists. It was certainly a dreary time
in which to march to battle, and the young soldiers rising in the gloom
of the dawn and starting amid such weather were depressed.
“Pennington,” said Warner, “will you help me in a request to our
Kentucky friend to join us in three cheers for the Sunny South, the edge
of which he has the good fortune to inhabit? I haven't seen the real sun
for about a month, and I suppose that's why they call it sunny, and I'm
informed that this big river, the Cumberland, often freezes over, which
I suppose is the reason why they call it Southern. I hear, too, that
people often freeze to death in North Georgia, which is further south
than this. After this bit of business is over I'm going to forbid winter
campaigns in the south.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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