Riding up to Hooker's headquarters through the beautiful spring morning his weary figure was lifted with new hope as he breathed the perfume of the flowers and blooming hedgerows.
The driver only worried him for the moment. He was swearing eloquently3 at his team in the pride of his heart at the honor of hauling the Chief Magistrate4 of the Nation. He swore both plain and ornamental5 oaths with equal unction.
The President endured it a while in amused silence. He was deeply annoyed, but too much of a gentleman to hurt his patriotic6 driver's feelings.
At last he observed:
"I see you are an Episcopalian, driver."
The man turned in surprise:
"Oh, no, sir, I'm Methodist."
"Is it possible?"
"Yes, sir, Methodist—why, sir?"
A whimsical smile played about the big kindly8 mouth:
"I thought you must be an Episcopalian because you swear exactly like Mr. Seward, and he's a churchwarden!"
A deep silence fell on the sweet spring air. The driver glanced over his shoulder with a sheepish grin, and cracked his whip without an oath:
"G'long there, boys!"
As the serried9 lines of blue, with bayonets flashing in the warming sun of April, marched past the tall giant on horseback, they were in fine spirits. They cheered the President with rousing enthusiasm.
John Vaughan did not join. He marched past with eyes straight in front.
The President hurried back to Washington to keep his vigil from his window overlooking the Potomac, and Hooker began the execution of his skillful plan of attack. On the day his advance began he had one hundred and thirty thousand men and four hundred and forty-eight great guns in seven grand divisions. Lee, still lying on the crescent hills behind Fredericksburg, had sixty-two thousand men and one hundred and seventy guns. He had detached Longstreet's corps11 for service in Tennessee.
The Federal Commander was absolutely sure that he could throw the flower of this magnificent army across the river seven miles above Fredericksburg, get into Lee's rear, hurl12 the remainder of his forces across the river as Burnside had done, and crush the grey army like an egg shell. It was well planned, but in war the unexpected often happens.
Again the unexpected thing turned up in the shape of the strange, dusty figure on his little sorrel horse.
The night before Hooker moved, Julius met with an accident which delayed John's supper. He was just approaching the camp after a successful stroll over the surrounding territory, carrying on his back a sheep he meant to cook for the coming march. A rude and unsympathetic guard arrested him. Julius was greatly grieved at his unkind remarks.
"Lordy, man, you ought not ter say things lak dat ter me! I nebber steal nutting in my life. I wasn't even foragin' dis time——"
"The hell you weren't!"
"Na, sah. I wasn't even foragin'. I know dat de General done issue dem orders agin hit, an' I quit long ergo——"
"This sheep looks like it——"
"Dat sheep?"
"That's what I said, you black thief!"
"Say, man, don't talk lak dat ter me—you sho hurts my feelin's. I nebber stole dat sheep. I nebber go atter de sheep, an' I weren't studyin' 'bout7 no animals. I was des walkin' long de road past a man's house whar dis here big, devilish-lookin' old sheep come er runnin' right at me wid his head down—an' I lammed him wid er stick ter save my life, sah. An' den2 when he fell, I knowed hit wuz er pity ter leave him dar ter spile, an' so I des nachelly had ter fetch him inter14 de camp ter save him. Man, you sho is rude ter talk dat way."
The guard was obdurate15 until Julius began to describe how he cooked roast mutton. He finally agreed to accept his version of the battle with the sheep as authentic16 if he would bring him a ten pound roast to test the truth of his conversation.
Julius was still harping17 on the rudeness of this guard as he fanned the flies off John's table with a sassafras brush at supper.
"I don't know what dey ebber let sech poor white trash ez dat man git in er army for, anyhow!" he exclaimed indignantly.
"We have to take 'em as they come now, Julius. There's going to be a draft this summer. No more volunteers now. Wait till you see the conscripts."
"Dey can't be no wus dan dat man. He warn't no gemman 'tall, sah."
John rose from his hearty18 supper and strolled along the line of his regiment19, recruited again to its full strength of twelve hundred men.
Two fellows who were messmates were scrapping20 about a question of gravy21. One wanted lots of gravy and his meat done brown. The other insisted on having his meat decently cooked, but not swimming in grease. The man in favor of gravy was on duty as cook at this meal and stuck to his own ideas. They suddenly clinched22, fell to the ground, rolled over, knocked the pan in the fire and lost both meat and gravy.
John smiled and passed on.
A lieutenant23 was sitting on a stump24 holding a letter from his sweetheart to the flickering25 camp fire. He bent26 and kissed the signature—the fool! For a moment the old longing27 surged back through his soul. He wondered if she ever thought of him now. She had loved him once.
He started back to his tent to write her a letter before they broke camp to-morrow morning. Nature was calling in the balmy spring night wind that floated over the waters of the river.
Nature knew naught28 of war. She was pouring out her heart in budding leaf and blossom in the joy of living.
And then the bitterness of shame and stubborn pride welled up to kill the tender impulse. There were slumbering29 forces beneath the skin the scenes through which he was passing had called into new life. They were bringing new powers both of mind and body. They added nothing to the gentler, sweeter sources of character. He began to understand how men could feed their ambitions on the bodies of fallen hosts and still smile.
He had felt the brutalizing touch of war. With a cynical31 laugh he threw off his impulse to write and turned into his blanket dreaming of the red carnival32 toward which they would march at dawn.
As the sun rose over the new sparkling fields of the South on the morning of the 27th of April, 1863, the great movement began.
The Federal commander ordered Sedgwick's division to cross the Rappahannock below Fredericksburg and deploy33 in line of battle to deceive Lee as to his real purpose while he secretly marched his main army through the woods seven miles above to throw them on his rear.
As the men stood, thousands banked on thousands, awaiting the order to march, John Vaughan saw, for the first time, the grim procession pass along the lines carrying a condemned34 deserter, to be shot to death before his former comrades. His hands were tied across his breast with rough knotted rope and he was seated on his coffin35.
The War Department had gotten around the tender heart in the White House at last. The desertions had become so terrible in their frequency it was absolutely necessary to make examples of some of these men. The poor devil who sat forlornly on his grim throne riding through the sweet spring morning had no mother or sister or sweetheart to plead his cause.
The men stared in silence as the death cart rumbled36 along the lines. It halted and the man took his place before the firing squad37 but a few feet away.
A white cloth was bound over his eyes. The sergeant38 dealt out the specially39 prepared round of cartridges—all blank save one, that no soldier might know who did the murder.
In low tones they were ordered to fire straight at the heart of the blindfolded42 figure. The muskets43 flashed and the man crumpled45 in a heap on the soft young grass, the blood pouring from his breast in a bright red pool beside the quivering form.
And then the army moved.
The stratagem46 of the Commander was executed with skill. But there was an eagle eye back of those hills of Fredericksburg. Lee was not only a great stark47 fighter, he was a past master in the arts of war. He had divined his opponent's plan from the moment of his first movement.
By April the 30th, Hooker had effected his crossing and slipped into the rear of Lee's left wing. The Southerner had paid little attention to Sedgwick's menace on his front. He left but nine thousand men on Marye's Heights to hold in check this forty thousand, and by a rapid night march suddenly confronted Hooker in the Wilderness48 before Chancellorsville.
So strong was the union General's position he issued an exultant50 order to his army in which he declared:
"The enemy must now flee shamefully51 or come out of his defences to accept battle on our own ground, to his certain destruction."
The enemy had already slipped out of his defenses before Fredericksburg and at that moment was feeling his way through the tangled54 vines and undergrowth with sure ominous55 tread.
The soul of the Confederate leader rose with elation56 at the prospect57 before him. In this tangle53 called the Wilderness, broken only here and there by small, scattered58 farm houses and fields, the Grand Army of the Republic had more than twice his numbers, and nearly three times as many big guns, but his artillery59 would be practically useless. It was utterly60 impossible to use four hundred great guns in such woods. Lee's one hundred and seventy were more than he could handle. It would be a fight between infantry61 at close range. The Southerner knew that no army of men ever walked the earth who would be the equal, man for man, with these grey veteran dead shots, who were now silently creeping through the undergrowth of their native woods.
On May the 1st, their two lines came into touch and Lee felt of his opponent by driving in his skirmishers in a desultory62 fire of artillery.
On the morning of May the 2nd, the two armies faced each other at close range.
With Sedgwick's division of forty thousand men now threatening Lee's rear from Fredericksburg, his army thus caught between two mighty63 lines of blue, Hooker was absolutely sure of victory. The one thing of which he never dreamed was that Lee would dare, in the face of such a death trap, to divide his own small army. And yet this is exactly what the Southerner decided64 to do contrary to all the rules of military science or the advice of the strange, silent figure on the little sorrel horse.
When Lee, Jackson and Stuart rode along the lines of Hooker's front that fatal May morning, Jackson suddenly reined65 in his little sorrel and turned his keen blue eyes on his grey-haired Chief:
"There's just one way, General Lee. The front and left are too strong. I can swing my corps in a quick movement to the rear while you attack the front. They will think it a retreat. Out of sight, I'll turn, march for ten miles around their right wing, and smash it from the rear before sundown."
Lee quickly approved the amazing plan of his lieutenant, though it involved the necessity of his holding Hooker's centre and left in check and that his nine thousand men behind the stone wall on Marye's Heights should hold Sedgwick's forty thousand. He believed it could be done until Jackson had completed his march.
He immediately ordered his attack on the centre and left of his enemy. The artillery horses were cropping the tender dew-laden grass with eagerness. They had had no breakfast. The riders sprang to their backs at seven o'clock and they dashed into position.
Lee's guns opened the fateful day. For hours his lines blazed with the steady sullen66 boom of artillery and rattle67 of musketry. Hooker's hosts replied in kind.
At noon a shout swept the Federal lines that Lee's army was in retreat. Sickles68' division could see the long grey waves hurrying to the rear. They were close enough to note the ragged69, dirty, nondescript clothes Jackson's men wore. No man in all the union hosts doubted for a moment that Lee had seen the hopelessness of his position and was hurrying to save his little army of sixty-two thousand men from being crushed into pulp70 by the jaws71 of a hundred and thirty thousand in two grand divisions closing in on him. It was a reasonable supposition—always barring the utterly unexpected—another name for Stonewall Jackson, whom they seemed to have forgotten for the moment.
Sickles, seeing the "retreat," sent a courier flying to Hooker, asking for permission to follow the fugitives72 with his twenty thousand men. Hooker consented, and Sickles leaped from his entrenchments and set out in mad haste to overtake the flying columns. He got nearly ten miles in the woods away from the battle lines before he realized that the ghostly men in grey had made good their escape. Certainly they had disappeared from view.
It was five o'clock in the afternoon when Jackson's swift, silent marchers began to draw near to the unsuspecting right wing of Hooker's army under the command of General Howard.
Ned Vaughan was in Jackson's skirmish line feeling the way through the tender green foliage74 of the spring. The days were warm and the leaves far advanced—the woods so dense75 it was impossible for picket76 or skirmisher to see more than a hundred yards ahead—at some points not a hundred feet.
The thin, silent line suddenly swept into the little opening of a negro cabin with garden and patch of corn. A kindly old colored woman was standing77 in the doorway78.
She looked into the faces of these eager, slender Southern boys and they were her "children." The meaning of war was real to her only when it meant danger to those she loved.
She ran quickly up to Ned, her eyes dancing with excitement:
"For de Lawd's sake, honey, don't you boys go up dat road no fudder!"
"Why, Mammy?" he asked with a smile.
"Lordy, chile, dey's thousan's, an' thousan's er Yankees des over dat little hill dar—dey'll kill every one er you all!"
"I reckon not, Mammy," Ned called, hurrying on.
She ran after him, still crying:
"For Gawd's sake, come back here, honey—dey kill ye sho!"
She was calling still as Ned disappeared beyond the cabin into the woods redolent now with the blossoms of chinquepin bushes and the rich odors of sweet shrub79.
They climbed the little ridge41 on whose further slope lay an open field, and caught their first view of Howard's unsuspecting division. They halted and sent their couriers flying with the news to Jackson.
Ned looked on the scene with a thrill of exultation80 and then a sense of deepening pity. The boys in blue had begun to bivouac for the night, their camp fires curling through the young green leaves. The men were seated in groups laughing, talking, joking and playing cards. The horses were busy cropping the young grass.
"God have mercy on them!" Ned exclaimed.
It was nearly six o'clock before Jackson's men had all slipped silently into position behind the dense woods on this little slope—in two long grim battle lines, one behind the other, with columns in support, his horse artillery with their big guns shotted and ready.
Ned saw a slight stir in the doomed81 camp of blue. The men were standing up now and looking curiously82 toward those dense woods. A startled flock of quail83 had swept over their heads flying straight down from the lull84 crest85. A rabbit came scurrying86 from the same direction—and then another. And then another flock of quail swirled87 past and pitched among the camp fires, running and darting88 in terror on the ground.
An officer drew his revolver and potted one for his supper.
The men glanced uneasily toward the woods but could see nothing.
"What'ell ye reckon that means?"
"What ails89 the poor birds?"
"And the rabbits?"
They were not long in doubt. The sudden shrill90 note of a bugle91 rang from the woods and Jackson's yelling grey lines of death swept down on their unprotected rear.
The first regiments92 in sight were blown into atoms and driven as chaff93 before a whirlwind. Behind them lay twenty regiments in their trenches94 pointed95 the wrong way. The men leaped to their guns and fought desperately96 to stay the rushing torrent97. Beyond them was a ragged gap of a whole mile without a man, left bare by the chase of Sickles' division now ten miles away. Without support the shattered lines were crushed and crumpled and rolled back in confusion. Every regiment was cut to pieces and pushed on top of one another, men, horses, mules98, cattle, guns, in a tangled mass of blood and death.
Ned was sent to bring the supporting column to drive them on and on. He mounted a horse and dashed back to the reserve line yelling his call:
"Hurry! Hurry up, men!"
"What's the hurry?" growled99 a grey coat.
"Hurry! Hurry!" Ned shouted. "We've captured fifty pieces of artillery and ten thousand prisoners!"
"Then what'ell's the use er hurryin' us on er empty stomach—but we're a-comin', honey—we're a-comin'!"
The colonel of a regiment snatched his hat off and was getting his men ready for the charge. He waved his hand toward Ned:
"Make that damn-fool get out of the way. I'm going to charge. Now you men listen—listen to me, I say! not to that fellow—listen to me!"
Ned could hear him still talking excitedly to his eager men as he dashed back to the battle line.
General Hooker sat on the porch of the Chancellor49 House, his headquarters. On the east there was heavy firing where his men were attempting to carry out his orders to flank Lee's retreating army. Sickles' and Pleasanton's cavalry101 were already in pursuit. By some curious trick of the breeze or atmospheric102 conditions not a sound had reached him from the direction of his right wing. A staff officer suddenly turned his glasses to the west.
"My God, here they come!"
Before the astounded103 Commander could leap from the porch to his horse the flying stragglers of his shattered right were pouring into view—men, wagons105, ambulances, in utter confusion. Hooker swung his old division under General Berry into line and shouted to his veterans:
"Forward with the bayonet!"
The sturdy division plowed106 its way through the receding107 blue waves of panic-stricken men and dashed into the face of the overwhelming hosts.
Major Keenan, in command of the 8th Pennsylvania Cavalry, charged with his gallant108 five hundred into the face of almost certain death and held the grey lines in check until the artillery of the Third Corps was saved and turned on the advancing Confederates. He fell at the head of his men.
The fighting now became a battle. It was no longer a rout109.
Ned saw a lone100 deaf man in blue standing bareheaded, fighting a whole army so intent on his work he hadn't noticed that his regiment had retreated and left him.
Two men in grey raised their muskets and fired point blank at this man at the same instant. The unconscious hero fell.
"I hit him!" cried one.
"No, I hit him!" said the other.
And they both rushed up and tenderly offered him help.
A grey soldier came hurrying by taking two prisoners to the rear. A cannon110 ball from the rescued battery cut off his leg and he dropped beside Ned shouting hysterically111:
"Pick me up! Pick me up! Why don't you pick me up?"
The blue prisoner looked back in terror at the battery and started to run. A grey soldier stopped them:
"Here! Here! What'ell's the matter with you? Them's your own guns. What are ye tryin' to get away from 'em for?"
Men were falling now at every step.
Ned had advanced a hundred yards further when the boy on his right suddenly threw his hands over his head and his leg full to the ground, cut off by a cannon ball, Ned leaped to his side and caught him in his arms. A look of anguish112 swept his strong young face as he gasped113:
"My poor old mother! O my God, what'll she do now?"
Ned tied his handkerchief around the mangled114 leg, twisted the knot, and stayed the blood gushing115 from the severed116 arteries117, and rushed back to his desperate work.
Four horses dashed by his side dragging through the woods a big gun to train on the battery that was plowing118 through their lines. A solid shot crashed straight through a horse's head, blinding Ned with blood and brains.
He threw his hand to his face and buried it in the hot quivering mass, exclaiming:
"My God, boys, my brains are out!"
"You've got the biggest set I ever saw then!" the Captain said, helping119 him to clear his eyes.
A shell exploded squarely against the gun carriage, hurling120 it into junk and piling all four horses on the ground. Their dying cries rang pitifully through the smoke-wreathed woods. One horse lifted his head, placed both fore13 feet on the ground and tried to rise. His hind10 legs were only shreds121 of torn flesh. He neighed a long, quivering, soul-piercing shriek122 of agony and a merciful officer drew his revolver and killed him.
A cannoneer lay by this horse's side with both his legs hopelessly crushed so high in the thick flesh of the thighs123 there was no hope. He was moaning horribly. He turned his eyes in agony to the officer who had shot the horse:
"Please, Captain—for the love of God—shoot me, too, I can't live——"
The Captain shook his head.
"Have mercy on me—for Jesus' sake—kill me—you were kind to my horse—can't you do as much for me?"
The Captain turned away in anguish. He couldn't even send for morphine. The South had no more morphine. The blockade's iron hand was on her hospitals now.
Ned fought for half an hour behind a tree. Twice the bullets striking the hark knocked pieces into his eyes. He was sure at least fifty Minie balls struck it.
A bald-headed Colonel rushed by at double quick leading a fresh regiment into action to support them. The hell of battle was not so hot the Southern soldier had lost his sense of humor. They were glad to see this dashing old fighter and they told him so in no uncertain way.
"Hurrah124 for Baldy!"
"Sick 'em, Baldy—sick 'em——"
"I'll bet on old man Baldy every time——"
"Hurrah for the bald-headed man!"
The Colonel paid no attention to their shouts. The flash of his muskets in the deepening twilight125 turned the tide in their favor. The big guns had been unlimbered and pulled back deeper into the blue lines.
John Vaughan's line was swung to support the charge of Hooker's old division which first halted the rush of Jackson's men. In the field beyond the Chancellor House stood a huge straw stack. As the regiment rushed by at double quick the Colonel spied a panic-stricken officer crouching126 in terror behind the pile.
The Colonel slapped him across the shoulders with his sword:
"What sort of a place is this for you, sir?"
Through chattering127 teeth came the trembling response:
"W-w-hy, m-my God, do you think the bullets can come through?"
The Colonel threw up his hands in rage and pressed on with his men.
A wagon104 loaded with entrenching128 tools, on which sat half a dozen negroes rattled129 by on its way to the rear. A solid shot plumped squarely into the load.
John saw picks, spades, shovels130 and negroes suddenly fill the air. Every negro lit on his feet and his legs were running when he struck the ground. They reached the tall timber before the last pick fell.
The regiments were going into battle double quick, but they were not going so fast they couldn't laugh.
"Hurry up men!" the Colonel called. "Hurry up, let's get in there and help 'em!"
A moment more and they were in it.
The man beside John threw up both hands and dropped with the dull, unmistakable thud of death—the soldier who has been in battle knows the sickening sound.
They were thrown around the Third Corps battery to protect their guns which had been dragged to a place more securely within the lines. Still their gunners kept falling one by one—falling ominously131 at the crack of a single gun in the woods. A Confederate sharpshooter had climbed a tree and was picking them off.
A tall Westerner spoke132 to the Colonel:
"Let me go huntin' for him!"
The Commander nodded and John went with him—why? He asked himself the question before he had taken ten steps through the shadowy underbrush. The answer was plain. He knew the truth at once. The elemental brutal30 instinct of the hunter had kindled133 at the flash in that Westerner's eye. It would be a hunt worth while—the game was human.
For five minutes they crept through the bushes hiding from tree to tree in the open spaces. They searched the tops in vain, when suddenly a piece of white oak bark fluttered down from the sky and struck the ground at their feet.
The Westerner smiled at John and stood motionless:
"Well, I'm damned!"
They waited breathlessly, afraid to look up into the boughs134 of the towering oak beneath which they were standing.
"Don't move now!" the man from the West cried, "and I'll pot him."
Slowly he stepped backward, softly, noiselessly, his eye fixed in the treetop, his gun raised and finger on the trigger.
He stopped, aimed, and fired.
John looked up and saw the grey figure fall back from the tree trunk and plunge135 downward, bounding from limb to limb and striking the ground within ten feet of where he stood with heavy thud. The blood was gushing in red streams from his nose and mouth.
They turned and hurried back to their lines—another fierce attack was being made on those guns. The men in grey charged and drove them a hundred feet before they rallied and pushed them back with frightful136 loss on both sides.
John's Captain fell, dangerously wounded, and lay fifty feet beyond their battle line. The dry leaves in the woods had taken fire from a shell and the blaze was nearing the wounded men. The Westerner coolly leaped from his position behind a tree, walked out in a hail of lead, picked up his wounded Commander, and carried him safely to the rear. He had just stepped back to take his stand in line by John's side when a flying piece of shrapnel tore a hole in his side. He dropped to his knees, sank lower to his elbow, turned his blue eyes to the darkening sky and slowly muttered as if to himself:
"Poor—little—wife—and—babies!"
The night was drawing her merciful veil over the scene at last. Jackson having crushed and mangled Hooker's right wing and rolled it back in red defeat over five miles in two hours, was slowly feeling his way on his last reconnaissance for the day to make his plans for the next. Through a fatal misunderstanding he was fired on by his own men and borne from the field fatally wounded.
A shiver of horror thrilled the Southerners when the news of Jackson's fall was whispered through the darkness.
At midnight Sickles led his division back into the dense woods and for three terrible hours the men on both sides fought as demons137 in the shadows. The long lines of blazing muskets in the darkness looked like the onward138 rush of a forest fire. At times two solid walls of flame seemed to leap through the tree tops into the starlit heavens. A small portion of the captured ground was recovered at a frightful loss—and no man knows to this day how many gallant men in blue were shot down by their own comrades in the darkness and confusion of that mad assault.
Hooker sent a desperate call to Sedgwick to hurry to his relief by carrying out his plan of sweeping139 Marye's Heights and falling on Lee's rear.
At dawn Stuart in command of Jackson's corps led the new charge on Hooker's lines, his grey veterans shouting:
"Remember Jackson!"
Through the long hours of the terrible third day of May the fierce combat of giants raged. During the morning Hooker's headquarters were reached by the Confederate artillery and the old Chancellor House, filled with the wounded, was knocked to pieces and set on fire. The women and children and slaves of the Chancellor family were shivering in its cellar while the shells were hurling its bricks and timbers in murderous fury on the helpless wounded who lay in hundreds in the yard. The men from both armies rushed into this hell and carried the wounded to a place of safety.
General Hooker was wounded and the report flew over the Federal army that he had been killed. To allay140 their fears the General had himself lifted into the saddle and rode down his lines and out of sight, when he was taken unconscious from his horse.
Sedgwick was fighting his way with desperation now to force Marye's Heights and strike Lee's rear.
Once more the stone wall blazed with death for the gallant men in blue. They dashed themselves against it wave on wave, only to fall back in confusion. They tried to flank it and failed. Hour after hour the mad charges rolled against this hill and broke in deep red pools at its base. There were but nine thousand men holding it against forty thousand, but it was afternoon before the grey lines slowly gave way and Sedgwick's victorious141 troops poured over the hill toward Lee's lines. Hooker had asked him to appear at daylight. The long rows and mangled heaps of the dead left on Marye's bloody142 slopes was sufficient answer to all inquiries143 as to his delay.
But the way was still blocked. The receding line of grey was suddenly supported by Early's division detached from Lee's reserves. Again Sedgwick was stopped and fought until dark.
"Waving his plumed144 hat ... he put himself at the head of his troops and charged."
"Waving his plumed hat ... he put himself at the head of his troops and charged."
As the sun was sinking over the smoke-wreathed spring-clothed trees of the wilderness, Stuart gathered Jackson's corps for a desperate assault on Hooker's last line of defense52. Waving his plumed hat high above his handsome bearded face, he put himself at the head of his troops and charged, chanting with boyish enthusiasm his improvised145 battle song:
"Old—Joe—Hooker,
Won't you come out o' the Wilderness!
Come out o' the Wilderness!
Come out o' the Wilderness!
Old—Joe—Hooker—
Come out o' the Wilderness—
Come—come—I say!"
The cheering grey waves swept all before them and left Lee in full possession of Chancellorsville and the whole position the Federal army had originally held.
As the Confederates rolled on, driving the fiercely fighting men in blue before them, Lee himself rode forward to encourage his men and then it happened—the thing for which the great have fought, and longed, and dreamed since time dawned—the spontaneous tribute of the brave to a trusted leader.
His victorious troops went wild at the sight of him. Above the crash and roar of battle rose the shouts of the Southerners:
"Hurrah for Lee!"
"Lee!"
"Lee!"
From lip to lip the thrilling name leaped until the wounded and the dying turned their eyes to see and raised their feeble voices:
"Lee!—Lee!—Lee!"
It was at this moment that he received the note from Jackson announcing that he was badly wounded. With the shouts of his men ringing in his ears, he drew his pencil and wrote across the pommel of his saddle:
"General: I have just received your note informing me that you are wounded. I cannot express my regret at the occurrence. Could I have directed events, I should have chosen, for the good of the country, to be disabled in your stead.
"I congratulate you upon the victory which is due to your skill and energy.
"Very respectfully, your obedient servant,
"R. E. Lee,
General."
It was quick, bloody work next day for the Southerner to turn and spring on Sedgwick with the ferocity of a tiger, crush and hurl his battered146 and bleeding corps back on the river.
Under cover of a storm General Couch, in command of Hooker's army, retreated across the Rappahannock. The blue and grey picket lines that night were so close to each other the men could talk freely. The Southern boys were chaffing the Northerners over their oft repeated defeats. Through the darkness a Yankee voice drawled:
"Ah, Johnnie, shut up—you make us tired! You're not so much as you think you are. Swap147 Generals with us and we'll come over and lick hell out of you!"
A silence fell over the boasting ones and then the listening Yankee heard a low voice chuckle148 to his comrade:
"I'm damned if they wouldn't, too!"
When the grey dawn broke through the storm they began to bury the dead and care for the wounded. The awful struggle had ended at last.
The Northern army had lost seventeen thousand men, the Southerners thirteen thousand.
It was a great victory for the South, but a few more such victories and there would be none of her brave boys left to tell the story.
John Vaughan's company had been detailed149 to help in cleaning the field. The day before, on Sunday morning, they had eaten their breakfast seated on the ground among hundreds of dead bodies whose odor poisoned the air. It is needless to say, Julius was not present. He had kept the river between him and the roar of contending hosts.
The suffering of the wounded had been terrible. Some of them had fallen on Friday, thousands on Saturday, and it was now Monday. All through the blood-soaked tangled woods they lay groaning150 and dying. And everywhere the flap of black wings. The keen-eyed vultures had seen from the sky where they fell.
John found a brave old farmer from Northern New York lying beside his son. He had met them in the fight at Fredericksburg in December.
"Well, here we are, Vaughan," the father cried feebly. "My boy's dead, and I'll be with him soon—but it's all right—it's all right—my country's worth it!"
They were lying in a bright open space, where the warm sun of May had pushed the wood violets into blossom in rich profusion151. The dead boy's head lay in a bed of blue flowers.
Some of the bodies further on were black and charred152 by the flames that had swept the woods again and again during the battles. Some of them had been wounded men and they had been burned to death. Their twisted bodies and the agony on their cold faces told the hideous153 story more plainly than words. The odor of burning flesh still filled the air in these black spots.
With a start John suddenly came on the crouching figure of a Confederate soldier kneeling behind a stump, the paper end of the cartridge40 was in his teeth and his fingers still grasped the ball. He was just in the act of tearing the paper as a bullet crashed straight through his forehead. A dark streak154 of blood marked his face and clothes. His gun was in his other hand, the muzzle155 in place to receive the cartridge, the body cold and rigid156 in exactly the position death had called him.
A broad-shouldered, bearded man in blue had just fallen asleep nearby. The body was still warm, the blue eyes wide open, staring into the leaden sky. On his breast lay an open Bible with a bloody finger mark on the lines:
"The Lord is my shepherd,
I shall not want
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures—
He restoreth my soul."
A hundred yards further lay a dead boy from his own company. The stiff hands were still holding a picture of his sweetheart before the staring eyes. Near him lay a boy in grey with a sweetheart's letter clasped in his hand. They had talked and tried to cheer one another, these dying boys—talked of those they loved in far off villages as the mists of eternity157 had gathered about them.
It was late that night before the wounded had all been moved. Through every hour of its black watches the surgeons, with their sleeves rolled high, their arms red, bent over their tasks, until legs and arms were piled in ghastly heaps ten feet high.
As John Vaughan turned from the scene where he had laid a wounded man to wait his turn, his eye caught the look of terror on the face of a wounded Southern boy. He was a slender little dark-haired fellow, under sixteen, a miniature of Ned. The surgeon had just taken up his knife to cut into the deep flesh wound for the Minie ball embedded158 there. John saw the slender face go white and the terror-stricken young eyes search the room for help. His breath came in quick gasps159 and he was about to faint.
John slipped his arm around him:
"Just a minute, Doctor——"
He pressed his hand and whispered:
"Come now, little man, you're among your enemies. You've got to be brave. Show your grit160 for the South. I've got a brother in your army who looks like you. No white feather now when these Yankees can see you."
The slender figure stiffened161 and his eyes flashed:
"All right!" the sturdy lips cried. "Let him go ahead—I'm ready now!"
John held his hand, while the knife cut through the soft young flesh and found the lead. The grip of the slim fingers tightened162, but he gave no cry. John handed him the bullet to put in his pocket and left him smiling his thanks.
He began to wonder vaguely163 if he had lost his cook forever. Julius should have found the regiment before this. It was just before day that he came on him working with might and main at a job that was the last one on earth he would have selected.
He had been seized by a burying squad and put to work dragging corpses165 to the trenches from the great piles where the wagons had dumped them.
The black man rolled his eyes in piteous appeal to his master:
"For Gawd's sake, Marse John, save me—dese here men won't lemme go. I been er throwin' corpses inter dem trenches since dark. I'se most dead frum work, let 'lone bein' scared ter death."
"Sorry, Julius," was the quick answer, "we've all got to work at a time like this. There's no help for it."
Julius bent again to his horrible task. The thing that appalled166 him was the way the dead men kept looking at him out of their eyes wide and staring in the flickering light of the lanterns.
John stood watching him thoughtfully. He had finished one pile of bodies, dragging them by the heels one by one, and throwing them into the trenches. He was just about to begin on the last stack when he saw that he had left one lying a little further back in the shadows.
Julius looked at it dubiously167 and scratched his head. He didn't like the idea of going so far back in the dark, away from the light, but there was no help for it. The guard stood with his musket44 scowling168:
"Get a move on you—damn you, don't stand there!" he growled.
Julius walled his eyes at his tormentor169 and ran for the body. It happened to be the sleeping form of a tired guard who had been up three nights. The negro grabbed his legs and rushed toward the lights and the trenches.
He had almost reached the grave when the corpse164 gave a vicious kick and yelled:
"Here—what'ell!"
Julius didn't stop to look or to answer. What he felt in his hands was enough. With a yell of terror he dropped the thing and plunged170 straight ahead.
"Gawd, save me!" he gasped.
His foot slipped on the edge of the trench73 and he rolled in the dark hole. With the leap of a frightened panther he reached the solid earth and flew, each leap a muttered prayer:
"Save me! Lawd, save me!"
Standing there beside the grim piles of his dead comrades John Vaughan joined the guard in uncontrollable laughter. It was many a day before he saw his cook again.
The laughter suddenly stopped, and he turned from the scene with a shudder171.
"I wonder," he muttered, "if I live through this war, whether I'll come out of it with a soul!"
The report from Chancellorsville drifted slowly, ominously, appallingly172, over Washington with the clouds and mists of the storm which swept up the Potomac and shrouded173 the city in a grey mantle174 of mourning. The White House was still. The dead were walking through its great rooms of state. The anguished175 heart who watched by the window toward the hills of Virginia saw and heard each muffled176 footfall.
He walked to the table with stumbling, uncertain step at last, his face ghastly and rigid, its color grey ashes, his deep set eyes streaming with tears, sank helplessly into a chair, and for the first time gave way to despair:
"O my God! My God! what will the country say!"
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收听单词发音
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1
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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2
den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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3
eloquently
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| adv. 雄辩地(有口才地, 富于表情地) | |
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4
magistrate
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| n.地方行政官，地方法官，治安官 | |
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5
ornamental
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| adj.装饰的；作装饰用的；n.装饰品；观赏植物 | |
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6
patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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7
bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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8
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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9
serried
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| adj.拥挤的；密集的 | |
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10
hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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11
corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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12
hurl
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| vt.猛投，力掷，声叫骂 | |
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13
fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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14
inter
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| v.埋葬 | |
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15
obdurate
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| adj.固执的，顽固的 | |
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16
authentic
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| a.真的，真正的；可靠的，可信的，有根据的 | |
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17
harping
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| n.反复述说 | |
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18
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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19
regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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20
scrapping
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| 刮，切除坯体余泥 | |
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21
gravy
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| n.肉汁；轻易得来的钱，外快 | |
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22
clinched
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| v.（尤指两人）互相紧紧抱[扭]住( clinch的过去式和过去分词 )；解决（争端、交易），达成（协议） | |
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23
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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24
stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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25
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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26
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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27
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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28
naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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29
slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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30
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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31
cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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32
carnival
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| n.嘉年华会，狂欢，狂欢节，巡回表演 | |
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33
deploy
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| v.（军）散开成战斗队形，布置，展开 | |
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34
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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35
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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36
rumbled
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| 发出隆隆声，发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 轰鸣着缓慢行进； 发现…的真相； 看穿（阴谋） | |
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37
squad
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| n.班，小队，小团体；vt.把…编成班或小组 | |
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38
sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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39
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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40
cartridge
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| n.弹壳，弹药筒；(装磁带等的)盒子 | |
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41
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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42
blindfolded
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| v.（尤指用布）挡住（某人）的视线( blindfold的过去式 )；蒙住（某人）的眼睛；使不理解；蒙骗 | |
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43
muskets
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| n.火枪，（尤指）滑膛枪( musket的名词复数 ) | |
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44
musket
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| n.滑膛枪 | |
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45
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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46
stratagem
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| n.诡计，计谋 | |
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47
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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48
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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49
chancellor
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| n.(英)大臣；法官；(德、奥)总理；大学校长 | |
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50
exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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51
shamefully
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| 可耻地； 丢脸地； 不体面地； 羞耻地 | |
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52
defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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53
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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54
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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55
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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56
elation
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| n.兴高采烈，洋洋得意 | |
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57
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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58
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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59
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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60
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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61
infantry
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| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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62
desultory
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| adj.散漫的，无方法的 | |
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63
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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64
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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65
reined
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| 勒缰绳使（马）停步( rein的过去式和过去分词 )； 驾驭； 严格控制； 加强管理 | |
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66
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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67
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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68
sickles
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| n.镰刀( sickle的名词复数 ) | |
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69
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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70
pulp
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| n.果肉，纸浆；v.化成纸浆，除去...果肉，制成纸浆 | |
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71
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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72
fugitives
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| n.亡命者，逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
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73
trench
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| n./v.(挖)沟，(挖)战壕 | |
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74
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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75
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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76
picket
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| n.纠察队；警戒哨；v.设置纠察线；布置警卫 | |
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77
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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78
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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79
shrub
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| n.灌木，灌木丛 | |
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80
exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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81
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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82
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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83
quail
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| n.鹌鹑；vi.畏惧，颤抖 | |
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84
lull
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| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
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85
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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86
scurrying
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| v.急匆匆地走( scurry的现在分词 ) | |
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87
swirled
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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88
darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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89
ails
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| v.生病( ail的第三人称单数 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
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90
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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91
bugle
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| n.军号，号角，喇叭；v.吹号，吹号召集 | |
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92
regiments
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| （军队的）团( regiment的名词复数 )； 大量的人或物 | |
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93
chaff
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| v.取笑，嘲笑；n.谷壳 | |
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94
trenches
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| 深沟，地沟( trench的名词复数 )； 战壕 | |
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95
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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96
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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97
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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98
mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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99
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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100
lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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101
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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102
atmospheric
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| adj.大气的，空气的；大气层的；大气所引起的 | |
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103
astounded
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| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
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104
wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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105
wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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106
plowed
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| v.耕( plow的过去式和过去分词 )；犁耕；费力穿过 | |
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107
receding
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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108
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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109
rout
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| n.溃退，溃败；v.击溃，打垮 | |
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110
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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111
hysterically
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| ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
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112
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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113
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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114
mangled
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| vt.乱砍（mangle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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115
gushing
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| adj.迸出的；涌出的；喷出的；过分热情的v.喷，涌( gush的现在分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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116
severed
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
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117
arteries
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| n.动脉( artery的名词复数 )；干线，要道 | |
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118
plowing
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| v.耕( plow的现在分词 )；犁耕；费力穿过 | |
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119
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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120
hurling
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| n.爱尔兰式曲棍球v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的现在分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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121
shreds
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| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
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122
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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123
thighs
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| n.股，大腿( thigh的名词复数 )；食用的鸡（等的）腿 | |
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124
hurrah
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| int.好哇，万岁，乌拉 | |
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125
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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126
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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127
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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128
entrenching
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| v.用壕沟围绕或保护…( entrench的现在分词 )；牢固地确立… | |
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129
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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130
shovels
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| n.铲子( shovel的名词复数 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份v.铲子( shovel的第三人称单数 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份 | |
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131
ominously
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| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
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132
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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133
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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134
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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135
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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136
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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137
demons
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| n.恶人( demon的名词复数 )；恶魔；精力过人的人；邪念 | |
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138
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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139
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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140
allay
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| v.消除，减轻(恐惧、怀疑等) | |
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141
victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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142
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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143
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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144
plumed
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| 饰有羽毛的 | |
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145
improvised
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| a.即席而作的,即兴的 | |
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146
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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147
swap
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| n.交换；vt.交换，用...作交易 | |
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148
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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149
detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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150
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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151
profusion
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| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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152
charred
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| v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式)；烧焦 | |
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153
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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154
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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155
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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156
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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157
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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158
embedded
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| a.扎牢的 | |
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159
gasps
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| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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160
grit
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| n.沙粒，决心，勇气；v.下定决心，咬紧牙关 | |
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161
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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162
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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163
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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164
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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165
corpses
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| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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166
appalled
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| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
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167
dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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168
scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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169
tormentor
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| n. 使苦痛之人, 使苦恼之物, 侧幕 =tormenter | |
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170
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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171
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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172
appallingly
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| 毛骨悚然地 | |
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173
shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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174
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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175
anguished
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| adj.极其痛苦的v.使极度痛苦(anguish的过去式) | |
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176
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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