The Sword of Antietam | Page 7

the regiment fired as one.
There was a long flash of fire, a tremendous roaring in Dick's ears, then
for an instant or two a vast cloud of smoke hid the advancing gray mass.
When it was lifted a moment later the men in gray were advancing no
longer. Their ranks were shattered and broken, the ground was covered
with the fallen and the others were reeling back.
"We win! We win!" shouted Pennington, wild with enthusiasm.
"For the present, at least," said Warner, a deep flush blazing in either
cheek.
There was no return fire just then from that point, and the smoke lifted
a little more. Above the crash of the battle which raged fiercely on
either flank, they heard the notes of a trumpet rising, loud, clear, and
distinct from all other sounds. Dick knew that it was a rallying call, and
then he heard Pennington utter a wild shout.
"I see him! I see him!" he cried. "It's old Stonewall himself! There on
the hillock, on the little horse!"
The vision was but for an instant. Dick gazed with all his eyes, and he
saw several hundred yards away a thickset man on a sorrel horse. He
was bearded and he stooped a little, seeming to bend an intense gaze
upon the Northern lines.
There was no time for anyone to fire, because in a few seconds the
smoke came back, a huge, impenetrable curtain, and hid the man and

the hillock. But Dick had not the slightest doubt that it was the great
Southern leader, and he was right. It was Stonewall Jackson on the
hillock, rallying his men, and Dick's own cousin, Harry Kenton, rode
by his side.
They reloaded, but a staff officer galloped up and delivered a written
order to Colonel Winchester. The whole regiment left the line, another
less seasoned taking its place, and they marched off to one flank, where
a field of wheat lately cut, and a wood on the extreme end, lay before
them. Behind them they heard the battle swelling anew, but Dick knew
that a new force of the foe was coming here, and he felt proud that his
own regiment had been moved to meet an attack which would certainly
be made with the greatest violence.
"Who are those men down in the wheat-field?" asked Pennington.
"Our own skirmishers," replied Warner. "See them running forward,
hiding behind the shocks of straw and firing!"
The riflemen were busy. They fired from the shelter of every straw
stack in the field, and they stung the new Southern advance, which was
already showing its front. Southern guns now began to search the wheat
field. A shell struck squarely in the center of one of the shocks behind
which three Northern skirmishers were kneeling. Dick saw the straw fly
into the air as if picked up by a whirlwind. When it settled back it lay in
scattered masses and three dark figures lay with it, motionless and
silent. He shuddered and looked away.
The edge of the wood was now lined with Southern infantry, and on
their right flank was a numerous body of cavalry. Officers were waving
their swords aloft, leading the men in person to the charge.
"The attack will be heavy here," said Colonel Winchester. "Ah, there
are our guns firing over our heads. We need 'em."
The Southern cannon were more numerous, but the Northern guns,
posted well on the hill, refused to be silenced. Some of them were
dismounted and the gunners about them were killed, but the others,

served with speed and valor, sprayed the whole Southern front with a
deadly shower of steel.
It was this welcome metal that Dick and his comrades heard over their
heads, and then the trumpets rang a shrill note of defiance along the
whole line. Banks, remembering his bitter defeats and resolved upon
victory now, was not awaiting the attack. He would make it himself.
The whole wing lifted itself up and rushed through the wheat field,
firing as they charged. The cannon were pushed forward and poured in
volleys as fast as the gunners could load and discharge them. Dick felt
the ground reeling beneath his feet, but he knew that they were
advancing and that the enemy was giving way again. Stonewall
Jackson and his generals felt a certain hardening of the Northern
resistance that day. The recruits in blue were becoming trained now.
They did not break in a panic, although their lines were raked through
and through by the Southern shells. New men stepped in the place of
the fallen, and the lines, filled up, came on again.
The Northern wing charging through the wheat field continued to bear
back the enemy. Jackson was not yet able to stop the fierce masses in
blue.