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 have understood that the battle of Williamsburg is considered a
victory for our side. I must confess that I did not know that we had won
it until I was so informed, although I was certainly in the battle. The
rebels fought this partial engagement only for the purpose, I think, of
securing the retreat of their army and trains; we fought for the purpose
of preventing the retreat. I have learned that our right wing had
better success than we had on the left; but for all that, the enemy got
away unbroken, and his purpose was accomplished. In the days of those
early battles, even the falling back of the rebel pickets before a line
of our skirmishers was telegraphed to Washington as a victory.
We lay on the wet ground; our sufferings were not small. Willis's
remark, that the rebels too were wet, didn't seem to bring much comfort;
even his assertion, that they would again retreat and that the morning
would find them gone, called forth no enthusiasm. The men were
dispirited; they knew very well that they had fought hard and had
endured with the stoutness of good soldiers, but they were physically
exhausted, and, above all, they felt that somebody had blundered in
putting them unnecessarily into an awkward place. I have always been
proud that none of our men deserted on the night of the
Williamsburg battle.
No fires could be made, Willis and I ate a little and lay down. My
gum-blanket was laid on the wet ground, with my blanket on top; this was
our bed. Our covering was Willis's blanket and gum-blanket. The night
was warm enough, and our covering was needed only as some protection
against the rain. I was soon asleep, but awake again as soon. About ten
o'clock I felt a hand on my shoulder. Rising, I saw our
orderly-sergeant; a man was standing by him. I was ordered to report at
General Grover's headquarters. The general had sent an orderly, who
could not or would not tell why I was wanted.
General Grover was in the centre of a group of officers, surrounding a
dim lantern which, was on the ground at the root of a large tree; horses
were tied near by to the branches of trees.
The orderly saluted, pointed to me, and retired a few yards.
The general came toward me; I saluted.
"Your name," said he.
"Private Jones Berwick."
"Your regiment."
"Eleventh."
"Dr. Khayme has spoken of you."
I bowed.
"Are you willing to undertake a hazardous duty?"
"I want to do my duty, General; but I don't hanker after danger," said
I.
"A prudent answer," said he; "come here."
He led the way toward the lantern, the group of officers scattering.
"The whole matter is this," said the general, "each brigade must send a
man to the front to observe the enemy. Will you go for this brigade?"
"Yes, sir," I said; "I ought to, if you so command."
"There is no compulsion," said he; "a man who objects to going should
not be allowed to go."
"My objections, General, are not strong enough, to make me decline."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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