Who goes there? : $b The story of a spy in the Civil WarBenson, B. K. (Blackwood Ketcham)
History
Who goes there? : $b The story of a spy in the Civil War
Benson, B. K. (Blackwood Ketcham)
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
I am running for life--a mass of fugitives around me--disorderly mob ...
I look behind--nothing but smoke ... I begin to walk.
The army was lost; it was no longer an army. As soon as the men had run
beyond gunshot they began to march, very deliberately, each one for
himself, away from the field. Companies, regiments, and brigades were
intermingled. If the rebels had been in condition to pursue us, many
thousands of our men would have fallen into their hands.
In vain I tried to find some group of Company D. Suddenly I felt
exhausted--sick from hunger and fatigue--and was compelled to stop and
rest. The line of the enemy did not seem to advance, and firing in our
rear had ceased.
A man of our company passed me--Edmonds. I called to him, "Where is the
company?"
"All gone," said he; "and you'd better get out of that, too, as quick as
you can."
"Tell me who is hurt," said I.
But he was gone, and I felt that it would not do for me to remain where
I was. I remembered Dr. Khayme's encouraging words as to my will, and by
great effort resolved to rise and run.
At length, as I was going down the slope toward the creek, I heard my
name called. I looked round, and saw a man waving his hand, and heard
him call me again. I went toward him. It was Willis; he was limping;
his hat was gone; everything was gone; in fact, he was hardly able
to march.
"Where are you hit?" I asked.
"The knee," he replied.
"Bad?"
"I don't think it is serious; it seems to me that it don't pain me as it
did awhile ago."
"Can you hold out till we find an ambulance?" I asked.
"Well, that depends; I guess all the ambulances are needed for men worse
off than I am."
Just then an officer rode along, endeavouring to effect some order, but
the men gave no attention to him at all. They had taken it into their
heads to go. By this time the routed troops before us were packed
between the high banks of the roadway which went down toward the creek.
I was desperately hungry, having eaten nothing since five o'clock in
the morning.
"Let's stay here and eat something," said I to Willis, "and let the
crowd scatter before we go on."
"No, not yet," said he; "we need water first. I couldn't swallow a
mouthful without water. Whiskey wouldn't hurt either. Got any water in
your canteen?"
"Not a drop," said I.
Although Willis was limping badly, the slow progress of the troops at
this point allowed him to keep up. At the bottom of the hill, where the
road strikes the low ground, the troops had greater space; some of them
followed their leaders straight ahead on the road; others went to the
right and left, seeking to avoid the crowd.
"Let's go up the creek," said Willis.
"What for?"
"To get water; I'm dying of thirst."
"Do you think you can stand it awhile longer?"
"Yes; at any rate, I'll keep a-goin' as long as God lets me, and I can
stand it better if I can get water and something to eat."
"Well, then, come on, and I'll help you as long as I can."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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