Читать книгу Unconquered - Johnny Neil Smith - Страница 14

The ground beneath him shook violently and john reached out to steady himself against the man next to him. The roar of cannon fire and the hiss of deadly missiles made speaking impossible. John struggled to get the attention of a nearby soldier but no words would form on his lips. Smoke boiled across the hillside in front of him engulfing all in its path. In the midst of turmoil a command was given, “Keep the ranks closed. If a man falls, stay tight and don’t yell until we get close to ‘em. Now move out, double quick!”

Men moved forward, rifles across their shoulders. Sun, filtering through breaks in the smoke, glistened off the fixed bayonets. Exploding shells crashed into the men as they moved forward, leaving large gaps in the line.

As hard as he tried, John could not keep up the pace. Smoke filled the air, burning his eyes and choking him. Visibility was limited to only a few feet. Straining to find the enemy, he tried to lift his legs but he was falling behind. Finally his muscles began to respond and he ran as fast as he could to the front line. A man turned and motioned for him to come close; it looked like his best friend Tim, but when he reached the line, the man vanished along with the other soldiers. Confusion overcame him.

As the smoke cleared, John could make out dismembered bodies strewn in grotesque positions. Most were lying on their backs with their eyes fixed toward the heavens as if God had collected their souls.

Across the field to his left, he saw men moving toward a clump of trees at the crest of the ridge. He recognized the stars and bars of the Confederacy. Once again, he saw Tim motioning to him. The sound of musketry became so loud it sent John to his knees. He threw his rifle aside and clamped his hands over his ears, but the roar continued. Fear engulfed him and sweat poured from his body as a violent pain shot through his head causing him to lose consciousness.

A strong wind out of the west rushed across the battlefield pushing the clouds of smoke away and John found himself standing alone. All around him lay the bodies of thousands of his comrades. There was no moaning from the wounded, no begging for mercy; they were dead. All was still and quiet; sound had simply evaporated from the earth.

Then he turned and saw one regimental flag fluttering in an unfelt breeze. John pried the staff from the fingers of the fallen soldier who had forced it into the soft ground and braced it next to his chest where it would not touch the ground.

John saw a field of stones forming a wall four feet high and the length of the hillside. Behind the wall were countless Union regimental flags and more soldiers than he had seen during the entire war. Grasping the flag, he stood at attention.

A Union officer standing on the wall called out, “Lay the flag down and come forward.”

John looked around at his fallen comrades and heard the flag flap in the wind.

“Young man,” the officer said, “The war is over. Put the flag down and come forward.”

John slowly lowered the flag, returning it to the soldier who had carried it to his death. Gazing into the face caked with dirt, blood, and gunpowder, John recognized his friend. Tears streamed down his face and he again snapped to attention as he called out, “There will be no surrender here today, sir. I stand with the South.”

The officer drew his sword and as thousands of Union soldiers crouching behind the wall stood with rifles in arms.

“Ready!”

John heard the hammers cock into position.

“Aim!”

Fear filled his inner soul.

“Fire!”

A gush of smoke rolled forward followed by a force so strong John’s body fell backwards wrapped in the flag he had defended. He screamed, “No! Not like this! I will not die like this!”

Sarah, shocked by the scream from across the hall, nudged Lott and pushed the cover aside. She slipped on her house shoes and lit the lantern on the table beside her bed. As she made her way toward the door she said, “Lott, you’d better come with me. It’s happening again.”

Ignoring the early morning chill, she hurried across the open hall with Lott close behind. John was lying on his back with his covers pulled tightly around him. Sweat poured from his face and he shook violently. His eyes stared straight up at the ceiling and his breath was very rapid. Sarah gasped in fear.