Dick awoke at sunrise of the last day of the year, and Warner and Pennington were up a moment later. There was no fog. The sun hung a low, red ball in the steel blue sky of winter. No fires had been lighted, cold food being served.
He heard far off to right a steady tattoo like the rapid beat of many small drums. A quiver ran through the lads who were now gathering in the wood and at its edge. But Dick knew that the fire was distant. The other wing had opened the battle, and it might be a long time before their own division was drawn into the conflict.
He stood there as the sound grew louder, a continuous crash of rifles, accompanied by the heavy boom of cannon, and far off he saw a great cloud of smoke gathering over the forest. But no shouting reached his ears, nor could he see the men in combat. Colonel Winchester, who was standing beside him, shrugged his shoulders.
“They're engaged heavily, or they will be very soon,” he said.
“And it looks as if we'd have to wait,” said Dick.
“Things point that way. The general thinks so, too. It seems that Bragg has moved his forces in the night, and that the portion of the enemy in front of us is some distance off.”
Dick soon confided this news to Warner and Pennington, who looked discontented.
“If we've got to fight, I'd rather do it now and get it over,” said Pennington. “If I'm going to be killed the difference between morning and afternoon won't matter, but if I'm not going to be killed it'll be worth a lot to get this weight off my mind.”
“And if we're far away from the enemy it's easy enough for us to go up close to him,” said Warner. “I take it that we're not here to keep out of his way, and, if our brethren are pounding now, oughtn't we to go in and help them pound? Remember how we divided our strength at Antietam.”
Dick shrugged his shoulders. His feelings were too bitter for him to make a reply save to say: “I don't know anything about it.”
Meanwhile the distant combat roared and deepened. It was obvious that a great battle was going on, but the division lay quiet obeying its orders. The sun rose higher in the cold, steely blue heavens and then Dick, who was watching a forest opposite them, uttered a loud cry. He had seen many bayonets flashing among the leafless trees.
The cry was taken up by others who saw also, and suddenly a long Southern line, less than half a mile away, emerged into the open and advanced upon them in silence, but with resolution, a bristling and terrific front of steel. After all their watching and waiting the Northern division had been surprised. Many of the officers and soldiers, too, were in tents that had been set against the cold and damp. The horses that drew the artillery were being taken to water.
It was an awful moment and Dick's heart missed more than one beat, but in that crisis the American, often impatient of discipline, showed his power of initiative and his resolute courage. While that bristling front of steel came on the soldiers formed themselves into line without waiting for the commands of the officers. The artillerymen rushed to their guns.
“Kneel, men! Kneel!” shouted Colonel Winchester to his own regiment. He and all his officers were on foot, their horses having been left in the rear the night before.
His men threw themselves down at his command, and, all along the Northern line formed so hastily, the rifles began to crackle, sending forth a sheet of fire and bullets.
The Northern cannon, handled as always with skill and courage, were at work now, too, and their shells and shot lashed the Southern ranks through and through. But Dick saw no pause in the advance of the men in gray. They did not even falter. Without a particle of shelter they came on through the rain of death, their ranks closing up over the slain, their front line always presenting that bristling line of steel.
It seemed to Dick now that the points of the bayonets shone almost in his face, gleaming through the smoke that hung between them and the foe, a gap that continually grew narrower as the Southern line never ceased to come.
“Stand firm, lads; steady for God's sake, steady!” shouted Colonel Winchester, and then Dick heard no single voice, because the roar of the battle broke over them like the sudden rush of a storm. He was conscious only that the tips of the bayonets had reached them, and behind them he saw the eyes in the brown faces gleaming.
Then he did not even see the brown faces, because there was such a storm of fire and smoke pouring forth bullets like hail, and the tumult of shouts and of the crash of cannon and rifles was so awful that it blended into one general sound like the roaring of the infernal regions.
Dick felt himself borne back. It seemed to him that their line had cracked like a bow bent too much. It was not anything that he saw but a sense of the general result, and he was right. The Northern line which had not found time to form properly, was hurled back. Neither cannon nor rifles could stop the three Southern brigades which were charging them.
The South struck like a tornado, and despite a resistance made with all the fury and rage of despair, the Northern division was driven from its position, and its line broken in many places. A Northern general was taken prisoner. The guns which could not be carried, because the horses were gone, were taken by the triumphant Southerners, and over all the roar and tumult of the frightful battle Dick heard that piercing and triumphant rebel yell, poured forth by thousands of throats and swelling over everything, in a fierce, dominant note.
Dick bumped against Warner as they were borne back in the smoke. He saw the Vermonter's blackened lips move, and his own moved in the same way, but neither heard what the other said. Nevertheless Dick read the words in his comrade's eyes, and they said:
“Surprised again, Dick! Good God, surprised!”
Yet the young troops fought with a courage worthy of the toughest veterans. They gave ground, because the rush against them was overpowering, but they maintained a terrible fire which strewed the earth in front of them with dead and wounded.
“Behind those trees! Behind those trees!” suddenly called Colonel Winchester as they continued their sullen and fighting retreat, and he and the remnants of his regiment darted into a little wood just in time. There was a sudden rush of hoofbeats on their flank, and a cloud of Southern cavalry swept down, shearing away the entire side of the Northern division as if it had been cleft with the slash of a mighty sword. Besides the fallen a thousand prisoners and seven cannon fell into the hands of the cavalrymen, who rushed on in search of fresh triumphs.
Dick shuddered with horror, but he saw that all his own immediate friends were safe in the wood. A swarm of fugitives poured in after them, and then came colonels and generals making desperate efforts to reform their line of battle. But the Southern brigades gave them no chance. Their leaders continually urged on the pursuit. The broken regiments fell back still loading and firing, and they would soon be on the banks of the creek again.
After a time that seemed almost infinite, Dick heard the roar of shells over their heads. In their retreat the regiments had come upon another Northern division which opposed a strong resistance to the Southern advance. Winchester's men welcomed their friends joyfully. But the fresh troops could not stop the advance. The fire of the Southern cannon and rifles was so deadly that nearly all the Northern artillerymen were killed around their guns.
The North again gave ground, seeking point after point for fresh resistance. They rallied strongly around a building used as a hospital, and filled it with riflemen. But they were driven from that, too, although they inflicted terrible losses on their enemy.
“We've got to stop this backward slide somewhere,” gasped Pennington.
Whether Warner made any reply he did not know, because he lost him then in the flame and the smoke. An instant or two later the charging swarms of infantry and cavalry drove them into one of the woods of red cedar
