Storm Clouds Rolling In & On To Richmond (Books 1 & 2 in the Bregdan Chronicles) by Ginny Dye - HTML preview

Chapter Eight

Robert twisted and squirmed, trying to find a comfortable position on the hard ground. This night, more than any of the nine that had passed since he had left the train at Manassas Junction, sleep eluded him. His heart and mind refused to be stilled. The moon was high in the sky when he finally gave up the effort and pulled himself into a sitting position against a tree that might mean the difference between life and death to a soldier in the coming hours.

Robert gazed out over the bright landscape as he tried to envision what the day would bring. If a man had a good enough imagination, he could believe that all was right in the world. The sky was crystal clear, the moon bright and full. Its brightness cast shadows from the towering trees that were sheltering the position of their regiment. He peered around the big oak and watched the moonlight glisten off the waters of Bull Run. Sparkling particles in the stone bridge that spanned the river caught the brightness and caused the bridge to stand in stark contrast. Was it possible that in just a few hours the beauty of the scene before him would be destroyed by the roar of cannon fire and the shouts of contending men?

“Lieutenant?”

The voice sounding beside Robert was little more than a whisper. “Yes, Hobbs?” he whispered back. Robert had grown fond of the sixteen-year-old who had shown up from the hills of western Virginia, eager to do battle for the South.

“You reckon it’s true, Lieutenant? That all the waiting will be over soon?”

Robert nodded grimly. “I reckon it’s true. All the stalling and waiting is past. I believe we will face the enemy tomorrow.”

There was a long pause. Robert could envision Hobbs’

young, freckled face screwed up in intense thought, his brown eyes flashing thoughtfully under the thatch of

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rust-colored hair. The youth had worked harder than anyone to be ready for what would happen the next day.

He had never once complained during the long, hot drills and had always been willing to do more.

“You reckon we’ll see much action? Seems kinda like we’re stuck up out of the way here.”

Robert smiled. He knew how Hobbs felt. He, too, had been keenly disappointed when his regiment had been attached to Colonel Evans’ brigade. He would have preferred to be in the thick of the battle. Everyone was sure General McDowell would focus his attack on Mitchell’s Ford.

“We will all play an important role, Hobbs. We have to be ready when the time comes.” He fervently hoped he was right. He hated the thought that they would stand watch in their woods the next day, simply listening to the sounds of what many thought would be the only battle of the war. Robert didn’t share that sentiment with them.

He simply wanted to be a part of this first great fight.

The silence grew even longer, until Robert wondered if Hobbs had drifted off to sleep.

“You scared, Lieutenant?” Hobbs’ whisper broke the night once again.

Robert opened his mouth to speak and then stopped.

He supposed he should be the strong, commanding leader and say he had no fear—that he was confident all would go well. Unbidden, Carrie’s face, with her direct eyes and open honesty, flashed before him. Tell him the truth.

“Sure, I’m scared, Hobbs. Who wouldn’t be?”

“Really?” the young voice gasped.

“Really,” Robert said. “We’ve done all we can to get ready for this battle, but nothing ever goes the way you plan it. And one thing is for sure.” He paused for emphasis. “Not everyone is going to get out of this alive.

That’s just a sad fact of war. How do I know it’s not going to be me? How do I know it’s not going to be someone I care about?”

He could almost feel Hobbs’ brown eyes boring into him as he continued. “There isn’t anything wrong with fear. Every great person has to face fear. The important

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thing is not to let it win out over you. You have to face your fears and not back down. Fear can actually be a good thing.”

“How’s that?” Hobbs’ voice was skeptical.

“Fear can make you sharp. It can keep you from relaxing and taking things for granted. It can make you strive to be the best you can so that the thing you fear won’t beat you. Fear can make you stronger when you realize you have conquered it.”

There was a short silence before Hobbs’ voice broke in again. “And fear can make you turn to God. That’s what my grandma said before I left home. She told me if I was ever afraid, to talk to God.” Another long pause. “I been talking to God tonight, Lieutenant.”

“Got that right.”

“Me, too.”

“Amen!”

The soft chorus of whispers sounding from the night was the first evidence that anyone else was listening in on their conversation. It also meant Robert didn’t need to respond to what Hobbs had said. He realized the anxiety that was keeping him awake was doing the same to the others. The thought gave him comfort.

One man’s rough voice broke into his thoughts. “I don’t think I realized until tonight what all this drilling and marching was about. It’s right scary to know there are thousands of men on the other side of that river who are ready to kill us. I been trying to get things right.” The voice paused and then continued a little softer. “I’ve done said the Lord’s Prayer to myself seventy-five times. My mama always told me that was a good thing to do. I figure the more I say it, the holier I will get. Maybe the Lord will try a little harder to keep me safe.”

Hobbs laughed softly. “Tell the lieutenant what else you done, Pickins.”

The darkness proved to be a confessional.

Pickins continued in an embarrassed and slightly defiant tone. “I done threw away my deck of cards. I promised God I’d be a good moral man, I did. Told him I wouldn’t grumble about menial duties again, that I’d go to church and even quit smoking. Why, I told him if I

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survived the war, that I would become a minister and preach the gospel!”

Robert smiled as low chuckles surrounded him. These were good men. “Good for you, Pickins.”

Silence fell again as each man lost himself in his own thoughts. The moon was slowly gliding westward.

Katydids and tree frogs kept up a steady chorus as if trying to serenade the tired men into a few hours of sleep.

Robert took advantage of the quiet to let his thoughts return to Carrie. How wonderful it had been to see her at the train station. Memories of her filled his quiet moments. The look on her face when she had told him she loved him. The feel of her palm when she had pressed her hair into his hand. The sight of her watching him until he was gone.

Had it all been because he was going to battle? The images that flashed through his mind thrilled and tormented him. She loved him, but she wouldn’t marry him. His fists clenched in frustration.

Startled by a hooting owl, Robert peered around his tree. Was that the beginning of dawn starting to creep over the horizon?

Trying to control the nervous twisting of his stomach, he tried to turn his mind back to Carrie. Instead, his thoughts returned to his men’s comments about God—

about giving their fear to him. Robert had wanted to tell them they were wasting their time, but the knowledge that he was responsible for keeping their morale up had stilled his tongue. His stomach twisted again, but this time in anger.

Robert rested his head back against the tree and tried to relax. He knew his anger was eating at him, but he had no idea what to do about it. He was angry at God for letting that slave kill his father. He was angry at God because slaves were keeping him and Carrie apart. He was angry at God for letting him love someone who would prove to be nothing but a torment to him all his life.

Resisting the impulse to smash his fist into the tree, he buried his head in his hands. Was there to be no relief?

Just then, the sharp report of a gun in the distance broke the early morning stillness.

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Robert reached over to grab his weapon and threw himself on his stomach to peer around the tree. His surveillance revealed nothing. The dark expanse of woods that bordered the field running alongside Bull Run was still. Who had fired that shot?

“Lieutenant?”

“Pass the word down, Hobbs,” Robert said quickly.

“Tell everyone to be at attention. To hold their position until Colonel Evans tells them differently. There is to be no movement to give away our position. It’s better to leave them guessing how many of us are here.”

“Yes, sir.”

Robert continued to scan the woods as the word passed down the line of men hiding behind the trees and the crest of the hill facing the river. A movement to his left caught his attention. Close inspection revealed two companies of Confederate troops. He watched as the men took up positions on either side of the bridge. Colonel Evans had sent them down as skirmishers to distract whatever Union troops were advancing, and to sound a warning to the waiting brigade. General McDowell must be sending a few troops their way to keep them busy while the bulk of the battle happened downstream.

Robert could feel the tension in every part of his body.

As he waited, each minute feeling like an eternity, he repeated to himself over and over the orders he had received the night before. This was his first battle. He wanted to make sure he handled himself, and his men, well.

The sound of hoofbeats broke into his thoughts.

Moments later, Colonel Evans rode into view behind him.

Robert liked this rude brawler of an officer—

insubordinate, gruff and roughhewn. His full beard, high forehead and piercing eyes lent him a deceptively patriarchal air. His bravery and commitment to the cause were not to be questioned. He would give his all. Robert could respect that.

“Lieutenant!”

“Yes, sir!” Robert snapped.

“Move your men to the crest of the hill overlooking the bridge. I don’t want anyone to see any movement, so keep everyone down. Only if the enemy crosses the bridge are

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you to open fire. I want to keep them guessing at how many we are.”

“Yes, sir!”

Evans turned abruptly and moved away. Robert raised one arm to gain the attention of his troops. Moving swiftly, staying close to the ground, it took them less than ten minutes to reach their new position.

Robert glanced at his watch as he settled low to the ground. Five forty-five. The sun was still below the horizon but was casting its rosy hue across the sky. The morning air was cool, but the day promised to be scorching.

A sudden movement on the far side of the river caught his attention. A lone rider broke from the woods and moved toward the water, holding what looked to be a flag of some sort. As Robert watched, the rider moved to within a couple hundred yards of the bridge, evidently attempting to plant his flag.

Sharp gunfire from Confederate riflemen broke the morning stillness. After a long moment, the lone rider turned and disappeared back into the woods.

Robert chuckled. If that was the best they could do, this wasn’t going to be much of a battle.

Boom!

Robert jumped as a thunderous report from the north side of the stream exploded onto the morning. Once again he glanced at his watch. Six a.m. The time would be forever etched in his memory.

The battle was joined. The bombardment had begun.

The next hour and a half passed slower than any of Robert’s life. From their place of concealment behind the hill, they listened to the steady report of guns from the Union troops and from the two brigades down by the river. It chafed that he could not send forth a response from his hidden troops, but he had received his orders, and he would fulfill them—even if it meant he never got to fire a single shot during this battle.

As he listened to the steady firing, he wondered what was going on downstream. Were Union troops even now battering the better-prepared positions? It was so hard

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not knowing what was going on anywhere but in his own little sphere.

“Prepare to move out!”

Robert, unable to hear Evans approach because of the gunfire, spun around to look up at his commanding officer.

“All of this has been nothing but a ploy to hold our attention. I have just received word that an undetermined number of Federals are marching on our exposed left flank. Get ready to march to meet them.”

Robert stared after him for a moment. Now, their brigade were not only faced with the enemy troops in front of them, but they had more coming at them from the side. Robert knew their small number would not be enough to hold back what seemed to be heading their way. In all of the Confederate defense, theirs was the weakest link. General McDowell had chosen to strike at the Confederacy’s Achilles’ heel.

Robert’s concern was mixed with admiration for Colonel Evans. A man of less resolution would have withdrawn from his position in fear of being overwhelmed. No one would have blamed him. Hopelessly outnumbered, he had chosen to attack.

Robert looked at his men with a grim smile. “I guess we’re going to get that action we were wanting.” Pushing down his fear, he gripped his rifle and led his men in the direction Evans had indicated.

Sweat was pouring from his body as he double-quicked down the road. The sun was rising in the sky, fulfilling its earlier promise. Dust kicked up from the road, coating his face and clothes. Breathing hard, he kept up a steady pace for his men. He could hear gasping and an occasional curse behind him, but no one complained.

“Behind those trees!”

Robert flashed up Matthews Hill and moved his troops behind a grove of trees that would offer them good protection. They had a clear field of fire down the slope toward the open road down which the Union troops would have to advance. Only when all of his men were in position did Robert sink against a tree for just a moment

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and take a deep breath. Then he was up scanning the road in front of him.

He had done the best he could to encourage his men.

Somehow they knew this battle wasn’t going the way anyone had expected. The Union forces were taking unanticipated action. Everyone had thought the men skirmishing them this morning would eventually head east in an effort to give backup to the Union troops lined up along Mitchell’s Ford. Now, all any of them could do was to hope their own Confederate troops would reach them in time with backup.

Colonel Evans had done all he could to give the impression of much greater strength than they actually possessed by stretching his men out along a long line.

Robert stared down at the road. Minutes after they had taken their position, a surge of Federals erupted from the woods.

“Fire!” Robert yelled.

He got off the first round and turned to reload.

Gunfire erupted as his order split the air. The Federals responded by plunging into the open in an all-out assault. Rifle after rifle exploded along the Confederate line in an attempt to halt them.

“Got that one!”

“Come on, you cowards!”

For now at least, the Confederates strongly outnumbered the Federals. It seemed like it took only minutes for them to pin the Union infantry down. The artillery ceased its fire.

Robert knew the Federals were calling for help.

Hastily, he swiped at the sweat streaming down his face and reloaded his gun. They were being given a brief respite, but what was sure to follow would be worse than anything they had yet experienced.

Boom! Boom!

In what seemed like moments, more Union troops, complete with heavy guns, had swarmed from the woods to join in the battle. Once again, steady gunfire mixed with the shouts and the screams of wounded and dying men.

“Attack!”

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Robert heard the shouted command off to his left, and watched as the First Louisiana Battalion swarmed from the woods and hit the center of the Federal Line. Looking back down the scope of his rifle, he pulled the trigger and gave a grimace of satisfaction as he watched an advancing blue uniform fall to the ground. Keeping up steady fire, he tried to keep tabs on the assault going on beside him.

He had grown fond of Major Roberdeau Wheat, who was leading the Louisiana Battalion. As the men surged forward, yelling, shouting and waving knives, the stout Wheat led the way. Robert knew Wheat’s men had no hope of driving back the line, but they did seem to be delaying the advance. It would buy them time. That was all they could hope for.

Robert had just reloaded his gun and gotten another Federal in his sights, when he saw Wheat go down. Many of the major’s men lay scattered on the hill, cut down by Union fire.

“No!” Robert refocused on the scope and pulled the trigger. He felt no satisfaction as he saw another man fall.

“Hold them, boys!” He would do all he could to give the Louisiana Battalion time to pull their wounded leader behind the lines to the field surgeons. He loaded and fired as fast as possible, feeling a flush of satisfaction when Wheat was pulled behind the lines. Robert had no way to know if he was still alive, but he’d done his part.

Finally, the Louisiana Battalion pulled back and returned to the line. They had done their job, but Robert was aware it probably hadn’t been enough. They had bought the Confederates some time, but there were no reinforcements in sight. Already the Union troops overreached both flanks of Evans’ thinly spread position.

Federal artillery had nearly silenced their guns. They could hold the line for only a few more minutes.

“Lieutenant?”

In the brief lull of gunfire, Robert heard Hobbs’ young voice. He turned and gazed into his bloodshot eyes and dirty, grimy face.

“We gonna make it, Lieutenant?”

Robert swallowed hard. “It’s not looking good, Hobbs,”

he said. He saw no other choice but honesty.

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Hobbs’ determined gaze never wavered. He simply nodded and clinched his rifle tighter. “I can maybe get me one or two more.” His lips began to move in wordless prayer.

Suddenly, a shout caught Robert’s attention. Glancing back over his shoulder, he gave a gasp of relief.

Reinforcements!

“Hold on there, Hobbs. Looks like General Bee’s boys are getting here just in time.”

Robert and his regiment cheered as Bee’s men surged through their line and moved to the front, giving them a brief rest. Never had they seen a more blessed sight than that wave of gray uniforms moving toward them. The sound of gunfire exploded around them once more.

Reaching for his canteen, Robert took his first sip of liquid in nearly three hours. He shook his head when he looked at his watch. Could it really be only ten o’clock?

He felt like he had spent a lifetime on the battlefield already. He gulped the water down, trying to relax. He knew the respite would be over soon.

Looking out over the scene, in spite of the reinforcements surrounding him, Robert felt despair.

They were easily outnumbered two to one. There seemed to be a veritable sea of blue coats facing them.

“Take your positions, men!”

Robert heaved himself up from the ground and quickly moved his troops back onto the battle line. Shells from the line of artillery facing them continued to pound their positions, seeming almost alive as they shrieked overhead, their whistle growing shriller as they approached. Huge clumps of dirt erupted around them as the shells impacted with the earth. He had a brief vision of Carrie’s lovely, fresh face, before he sighted down his rifle scope and pulled the trigger. Then all thoughts of anything but survival fled his mind.

“Lieutenant Borden!”

Robert pushed himself back from his position and sprinted over to Evans. “Yes, sir.” He listened intently for several minutes and then returned to his men.

Hobbs was watching him come. The look on the boy’s face made him realize how grim the one on his own must

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be. He tried to force a smile. “Here’s our chance to make history, boys,” his voice rang out.

Long minutes passed as orders were given down the line. Then came the command.

“Charge!”

Robert leapt up from the ground and took off at a dead run down the slope of the hill. His men were all around him, beside and behind. They were able to fire off only one shot as they crossed the clearing, aiming for a thicket of trees that flanked the Federal guns. The musket balls poured like rain around them, striking their own muskets, their hats, and their bodies.

Robert ran as fast as he could, his eyes fastened on the sanctuary of the thicket of trees. It was only moments before he realized how deceptive his thinking was.

“Reload men!” he cried as soon as they reached cover.

“Fire!”

Their guns cracked in unison as they opened on the enemy batteries and companies of infantry stationed nearby. Almost at the same time, considerable bodies of the Union moved forward against them, overlapping their exposed right and part of their left as well.

The protective thicket turned into a place of slaughter as a whirlwind of bullets descended upon their position.

The deadly missives rained like hail among the boughs and trees. Robert watched as man after man fell around him.

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