The Soldier Boy; or, Tom Somers in the Army: A Story of the Great Rebellion, - [story reading .TXT] 📗

is expended,” he added, as the cannon ceased their work of destruction. “We must hold these pieces, and every man must do his duty.”

“Ay, ay, sir!” replied Tom, vigorously, and the cry was repeated through the company.

As soon as the guns were thus rendered useless, the enemy swept down upon the supports again, intent upon capturing the pieces. They advanced with that terrific yell which is enough of itself to frighten a nervous man, and with an impetuosity which nothing human could resist. Our regiment recoiled under the shock; but it was forced back by the sheer stress of numbers.

“Rally men! Rally, my brave fellows!” shouted the adjutant, in command of the left wing.

“Stand stiff! Roll them back!” roared the colonel.

“Steady, men!” added Captain Benson.

“Now, give it to them!” screamed Tom, as he plunged his bayonet into the vitals of the rebel in front of him, and pushed forward into the very midst of the foe.

The sergeant seemed suddenly to be endowed with the strength of a giant, and he held his own till Hapgood sprang to his assistance. The rest of the line, inspired by this daring conduct, rushed forward, and fell upon the foe with a fury that could not be resisted.

“Bravo! Bravo, Tom!” shouted the captain. “Go in, boys!” roared the lieutenant.

And the boys “went in,” and forced back the rebel line, and held the guns until another battery with a supply of ammunition arrived upon the ground to relieve them. The enemy was again repulsed, and the guns were saved by the unflinching heroism of our gallant Massachusetts regiment—another paragraph for the letter to Lilian Ashford.

Chapter XXXI. Glory and Victory.

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The battle now raged more fiercely than ever, and hotter and hotter became the fire on every side. The shouts of the enemy indicated the arrival of reënforcements. “Johnston!” “Long-street!” resounded over the field, and roused the rebels to renewed activity. More certainly was the increase of the enemy’s force determined by the gradual falling back of the brigade at the left of the road; but the men fought with desperate courage, and yielded not a foot of ground without enriching it with their best blood.

There were no signs of reënforcements for over exhausted troops, though a whole corps was within hearing of the booming guns that were slaughtering our outnumbered and exhausted brigades. On the field the aspect began to be dark and unpromising, and Tom prayed with all his soul that he might be spared the pain of beholding another defeat, another rout.

Our regiment was ordered to the support of the yielding brigade on the left. The woods were full of rebels, and the issue of the conflict in this part of the field was almost hopeless. The enemy seemed to be inspired by the slight advantage they had gained, and their yells were fiercer and more diabolical than ever, as they gathered themselves up for a desperate onslaught.

The Federal brigade was overmatched, and the result seemed to waver upon a balance; then the equilibrium was slightly disturbed, and the Union force fell back a little, but only a little, and doggedly resisted the advance of the foe. It needed but little to restore the equilibrium, and our regiment, after struggling through the mud with all attainable speed, arrived upon the spot when the prospect was so gloomy for the loyal cause.

The men were almost exhausted by the tremendous strain which had all day long been imposed upon their nervous systems, and by the physical exertion required of them. But the battle was going against the North, and they were ready again to make a desperate effort to redeem the field.

“One more of your Massachusetts charges, colonel,” said General Hooker, as the weary soldiers moved up to the endangered position.

“You shall have it, general. My men are always ready, though they are nearly used up.”

“Hancock and Kearney are close by, and if we can hold out a few minutes longer, all will be well with us.”

“We’ll drive them back, general!” shouted the colonel.

“Go in, then!” added the gallant Hooker, waving his sword to encourage the soldiers. “Forward! You have no time to lose!”

The fiery colonel briefly stated to the regiment the nature of the work before them, admonished the men to do as they had done all day, and Massachusetts would be proud of them. A ringing cheer was the reply to the stirring words of the colonel, and the orders were given for the advance.

On went the brave fellows like a wall of iron, and precipitated themselves upon the rebels, buoyant with hope as they followed up their temporary advantage. The point of attack was all in their favor, and their exhilarating shouts as they sprang upon the foe kindled up the expiring enthusiasm of the yielding brigade to whose assistance they had come. The shock was terrible—more fearful and destructive than any which our boys had before experienced.

“Steady, my men!” shouted Captain Benson.

“Give it to them!” roared Tom, maddened to desperation by the awful strife around him, and by seeing so many of our men fall by his side.

“Stand up to it!” shouted the excited colonel. “They run!”

At this moment an inequality of the ground beneath the men of Company K placed them in a bad position, and the rebels in front of them, taking advantage of the circumstance, pressed forward, and actually broke through the line, trampling some of our soldiers beneath their feet, and transfixing them with their bayonets.

A terrible scene ensued at this gap in the ranks, for the whole rebel regiment began to press into the weak place. The breach was made by the side of our sergeant, so that he was not borne down by the pressure of the rebel battalion.

“Close up!” yelled Tom. “Close up! Hail, Columbia! and give it to them!”

Drawing a revolver which he had been permitted to retain after the capture of the contraband craft on the Potomac, he discharged its six barrels into the foremost of the assailants; and Hapgood and Fred Pemberton, who were armed in like manner from the same source, imitated the example of the sergeant.

“Now give them the bayonet, boys!” screamed Tom, hoarsely, as he plunged into the midst of the rebels.

The men on the other side of the gap pushed forward with equal energy, and the ranks closed up again over a pile of dead and wounded rebels, and Federals, who had fallen in that sharp encounter.

“Bravo!” shouted General Hooker, whose attention had been drawn to the break in the line. “Bravo, sergeant! You shall have a commission! Forward, my brave boys! Massachusetts sees you!”

“Up and at them,” cried Tom, as the rebels began to yield and break before the tremendous charge of our regiment.

The young sergeant’s throat was raw with the shouting he had done, and his limbs were beginning to yield to the fatigues of the day; but the words of the commander of the division made him over new again, and his husky voice still rang along the line, full of new courage and new energy to his exhausted comrades. The rebels were driven back for the time, and fled before the iron masses that crowded upon them.

The regiment was recalled, and the weary troops, now almost decimated by the slaughter which had taken place in their ranks, were permitted to breathe once more.

“This is awful,” said the veteran of Company K, panting from the violence of his exertions. “I never saw any thing like this before.”

“Nor I,” replied Tom, dropping upon the ground with exhaustion.

“I know something about this business. I thought Cerry Gordy was consid’able of a battle, but ’twas nothin’ like this.”

“It’s awful,” sighed Tom, as he thought of the good fellows he had seen fall upon the field.

“Heaps of our boys have gone down!”

“Attention—battalion!” came ringing with startling effect along the line, in the familiar tones of the intrepid colonel.

“If we win the day, we can afford to lose many. Victory or death!” shouted Tom, as he sprang to his feet, in obedience to the command. “More work for us!”

“How do you feel, Tom?” demanded the veteran, as they sprang into the line.

“All right,” replied Tom, with a forced buoyancy of spirits.

“Are you sure, my boy?” continued the veteran, gazing with deep anxiety into the face of the sergeant.

“I’m first rate, uncle. I think I can stand it as long as any body else.”

“You have done wonders to-day, Tom. I’m proud of you, but I’m afeared you are doing too much. If you are used up, it wouldn’t be any disgrace for you to go to the rear. After what you’ve done, nobody will say a word. Don’t kill yourself, Tom, but go to the rear.”

“I go to the rear!” exclaimed Tom, with indignation.

“If you are disabled, I mean, of course,” apologized the veteran.

“I’m not disabled. If I go to the rear with these socks on, it won’t be till after the breath has left my body.”

“Socks!” replied Hapgood, with a sneer. “I’m afeared that gal will be the death of you.”

“I don’t sulk in these socks,” replied Tom, with a faint smile, as the regiment moved off on the double quick to some new position of peril.

“The rebels are flanking us!” shouted an officer in another command, as our regiment hurried forward to the endangered point.

“That’s what we are wanted for,” said Hapgood.

The enemy had nearly accomplished their purpose when our gallant colonel and his jaded force reached the left of the line, and in a few moments more would have poured a flanking fire into our devoted battalions, which were struggling with terrible energy to roll back the pressure in front of them.

The colonel had his men well in hand, and he manoeuvred them with consummate skill, so as to bring them advantageously to the work they were to perform. The regiment was hurled against the head of the flanking column, and the boys rushed forward with that dash and spirit which had characterized their conduct half a score of times before in various parts of the field.

Tom’s muscles had become loose and soft after the long continued strain upon them, and if his soul had not been ten times as big as his body, he must have sunk under the exhaustion of the day. Another desperate onslaught was required of the men of our regiment, and commanding all his energies, Tom braced himself up once more for the fearful struggle.

“How do you feel now, Tom?” demanded the anxious veteran, as he bit off the cartridge, and rammed it home.

“First rate, uncle!” replied Tom, as the regiment poured a withering volley into the rebel line.

“For Heaven’s sake, Tom, don’t kill yourself,” added the old man, as they loaded up again. “Your knees shake under you now.”

“Do you think I’m afraid, uncle?” demanded the sergeant with a grim smile.

“No, no, Tom; of course I don’t think any thing of the kind. I’m afeared you’ll bust a blood-vessel, or something of that sort.”

“If I do, I’ll let you know, uncle.”

“Charge bayonets! Double quick—march!” rang along the line.

“Have at them!” cried Tom, who was always the first to catch the orders of the commanding officer. “Down with them! Give ’em Yankee Doodle, Hail, Columbia, and the Red, White, and Blue.”

The advancing column, shaken by the furious fire of our regiment, recoiled before the shock. Slowly the foe fell back, leaving heaps of their slain upon the hotly-contested ground. Our boys halted, and poured in another destructive volley.

The Confederate officers rallied their men, and, maddened by the check they had received, drove them forward to recover the lost ground.

“Once more, boys! Give it to ’em again,” cried Tom, as the order to advance was repeated.

His words were only representations of his actions; for, as he spoke, he rushed on a little in front of his comrades, who, however, pressed forward to keep up with him. He did not exceed the orders of his superior, but he was one of the promptest to obey them. On dashed the regiment, and again the rebel line recoiled, and soon broke in spite of the admirable efforts of their officers to keep them steady.

“Kearney! Kearney! Kearney is here!” shouted the weary heroes in various parts of the field.

“Down with them!” roared Tom, as the inspiring words rang in his ears. “Down with them! Kearney has come, and the day is ours!”

He had scarcely uttered the words, and sprung forward, before he was seen to drop upon the ground, several paces in front of the line, though the undaunted old Hapgood was close by his side. The enemy had fled; the danger of being flanked was averted; and when Kearney’s men dashed on the field, the sad-hearted veteran, assisted by Fred Pemberton, bore the silent form of the gallant sergeant to the rear.

Kearney and Hancock rushed gallantly to the rescue of the exhausted troops, and Hooker’s division was ordered to the rear to act as a reserve. The strife raged with unabated fury as those who had borne the brunt of the battle slowly fell back to give place