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
The division was formed for battle; we were to advance in two lines of
three brigades each, General Gregg in command of the first line. Orr's
Rifle regiment was thrown forward as skirmishers and advanced to the
river bank. The division moved behind the skirmishers. The ground was
open. We marched down a slope covered with corn in part, and reached a
bare and undulating field that stretched to the trees bordering the
river. As soon as the division had passed the corn, the Federal
batteries north of the Potomac began to work upon our ranks. The first
shots flew a little above us. We were marching at a quick time, keeping
well the alignment. The next shots struck the ground in front of us and
exploded--with what effect I could not see. And now the enemy had our
range and made use of the time. Before us, about three hundred yards,
was a depression of the ground, with a low ascending hill beyond. Shells
burst over us, beyond us, in front of us, amongst us, as we marched on
at quick time. We reached the hollow and were ordered to lie down. The
sun was oppressive. The troops had scant room in the hollow; they hugged
the earth thick. Shells would burst at the crown of the low hill ten
steps in front and throw iron everywhere. The aim of the Federal gunners
was horribly true.
We were cramped with lying long in one position; no water. Behind us
came a brigade down the slope--flags flying, shells bursting in the
ranks. Down the hill that we had come they now were coming in their
turn, losing men at every step. The shells flew far above us to strike
this new and exposed line. Behind us came the brigade; right against
Company H came the centre of a regiment. The red flag was marching
straight. The regiment reached our hollow; there was no room; it flanked
to the left by fours; a shell struck the colour-group; the flag leaped
in the air and fell amongst four dead men. A little pause, and the flag
was again alive, and the regiment had passed to the left, seeking room.
For hours we lay under the hot sun and the hotter fire. The fight had
long since ended, but we were held fast by the Federal batteries. To
rise and march out would be to lose many men uselessly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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