Traveller (35 page)

‘Twas like Marse Robert couldn't hear one word they was saying. He kept jest looking straight ahead at the enemy. The young Texas general hisself tried to stop him—no good. Then a big sergeant came up and grabbed my bridle. But even that didn't stop Marse Robert urging me forward, a-dragging the fella along with him. By this time I'd caught his mood—I always did, of course. I wanted to do what he wanted. I wanted us to lead the attack.

‘Twas Major Venable that finally stopped us. He pulled his horse ‘longside and yelled into Marse Robert's ear to tell him Old Pete had come up, and hadn't he any orders to give him?

Marse Robert reined me in and sort of slowly came out of his trance. He was still scowling at the Blue men, but he let Major Venable take my bridle. Then he waved his hat again to the Texans, and forward they went and back we came. Sure ‘nuff, there was Old Pete sitting on Hero, a-waiting for us.

“You ought to go further back behind the lines, General,” says Old Pete. And that was all he did say.

In the past, I'd often felt mean ‘bout Old Pete at one time and another, but right now I felt I really liked him for a good, sensible fella.

Marse Robert asked him to get his men deployed to attack the enemy. You wouldn't have thought any soldiers could extend into line of battle in that place. ‘Twas all undergrowth and low branches, and lots of parts men couldn't even see the enemy till they'd jest ‘bout run spang into ‘em. A plenty of the scrub runners and saplings had been knocked over by bullets, so that they was leaning into each other thick as hedges. In other places, ‘twas all chinkapin branches, right down to the ground. There was no question of a horse getting through that, and ‘course this meant messengers couldn't report like they usually did. The guns couldn't be used, neither. This here fighting had to be foot soldiers on their own.

It went on all morning. Marse Robert was forever trying to get to one place and another—often jest so that our soldiers could see him, or so it struck me at the time. But you know, I couldn't hardly pick my way, Tom, even though Marse Robert mostly left it to me entirely. And worse'n that, I often found myself stepping on dead men and sometimes on the wounded, too—they was laying that thick, Blue men and ours all mixed up.

Well, never mind for that. I'll tell you ‘bout something different that happened that morning. ‘Far as I could make out, Old Pete's men seemed to have driven the enemy back—leastways, they'd stopped coming on—and things was beginning to get a little calmer, when an officer rode up to us on a horse that looked like he might be going to fold up any moment. He was frothing and panting, and his sides was heaving so he couldn't even give a friendly nicker, let alone tell me what was going on. Marse Robert took this in directly, quick's I did. He spoke sharp to the young officer and told him he ought to treat his horse better. “You should have some feeling for him,' he said. “Get off, and rest him.” And with that he reached into the saddlebag on my back, took out one of our own biscuits and fed it to this horse. This was with the battle still going on all round us, Tom, you understand.

Pretty soon, ‘twas us was doing the attacking and the Blue men was doing the sneaking off—leastways, ‘far as anyone could tell in all the mix-up. Marse Robert and me had gone forward to jest behind the front line—if'n you could call it a front line—and he was giving orders for a pile of logs to be moved so our guns could be pulled forward. I could see Old Pete, with his own little group of officers, waving to us and riding off into the trees where the fighting was.

A minute or two later there come a fearful din from over where they'd disappeared. I heared men screaming out, horses neighing. Then a loose horse came galloping back out of the trees, with the stirrups flying. Some fella stopped him quite close to where we was at, and led him right up to us.

“What's happened?” I asked.

All he could tell was that Old Pete had been hit. A few minutes later, one of Old Pete's officers—Colonel Sorrel, I think ‘twas—came back to tell Marse Robert. At the time I hardly took it in, ‘cause of all the firing and the confusion of the fighting going on all round. Marse Robert didn't try to get forward to wherever Old Pete was; he jest carried on running the battle, and ‘twarn't till much later in the day that I larned from a horse called Frigate, that had come with a message from Old Pete's fellas up in front, that he'd been hit real bad and they was afeared he was likely to die. As things turned out, he didn't die—he came back to us later on—but he was away a mighty long while and for all that time I figured he must ‘a been killed for sure.

I can't give you any real idea, Tom, of what it was like that night in the dark when the fighting finally stopped. What I remember most is the smell of the burning woods. The smoke was everywhere—you had to breathe it. All us horses was a-snorting and coughing, half-choking with it. There was ‘nuff water, but scarcely anything to eat. The trees was on fire all round, in front of us and behind as well. Every now and then there'd roar up great, blazing flames higher'n the trees theirselves. There was men out all night, creeping round and doing their best to bring wounded fellas in, but they couldn't hardly get about, a lot of ‘em, ‘cause the brush and scrub was burning everywhere. I guess a lot of our wounded must ‘a died in them woods—yeah, burned in the fire.

Next day was quiet. I reckon both our men and the enemy was that much wore out that neither of ‘em had the spunk left to do no more fighting. We spent most of that day, Marse Robert and me, riding from one part of the Army to another, while Marse Robert talked to the different commanders—Red Shirt, the Bald General and a lot more. Most of what was happening I couldn't follow, of course, but near as I could get it the Blue men seemed to have had ‘nuff. ‘Peared there was signs they was a-pulling out, and Marse Robert, he wanted to be after ‘em quick and give ‘em another whipping.

Everyone in the Army got to know—it went through them trees faster'n the fire—that the enemy was in retreat. You could hear fellas miles off in the woods raising the Yell. Then it drew closer, as though something alive was coming fast through the trees, and swept on down the lines—the lines no one could see—and died away in the distance. At the time, I thought ‘twas the start of another attack, but now I reckon the truth was that Marse Robert figured he'd done the Blue men all the harm he could in a place like that, and he jest wanted to follow them out of it before we started in on ‘em again. ‘Course, he already knowed ‘zackly where they meant to go. Marse Robert was that smart, he could always tell what the Blue men was a-going to do ‘fore they knowed it theirselves. They might jest as well have sent a fella over to tell him.

Our headquarters didn't march off that night, though. Jest for once't, I remember, us headquarters horses had a peaceful night, and I got a good spell of sleep for a change.

Next morning, when we was being saddled up, Joker asked me whether I'd heared the news. “We'll have no generals left soon,” he said.

“You mean ‘bout Old Pete being hit?” I asks him.

“That and a lot more,” says Joker. “It seems Red Shirt's been took sick, real bad, and he won't be able to go on commanding—not for a good while, anyways. And during this last day or two we've had five or six commanders either killed or wounded bad. You'll have to take over a division yourself, Traveller. That's what it'll come to.”

‘Twarn't good news, and that was partly why I couldn't feel my spirits rising as me and Marse Robert rode away out of all the smoke and ashes. ‘Twas good right ‘nuff to get out of that durned smell, but all the same I had a worrisome feeling—it had been growing on me for the past day or two—of being left on my own. You see, Lucy Long had been sent away—sent to the rear—a few days before we marched into the wilderness. I'd been half-expecting it, as a matter of fact. She jest hadn't got the strength and endurance Marse Robert needed. I reckon that winter he'd more'n once't found she warn't up to all he had to have from a horse—maybe a little unsteady, too; I don't know. Anyway, she'd gone, and that jest left me and good old Ajax, that Marse Robert hardly ever rode. So from then on—unless we got another horse, which we never did—I'd be looking after Marse Robert on my own.

I s'pose we might have gone thirteen or fourteen mile that day ‘fore we came up with the fighting in the afternoon. All I really remember ‘bout them next days is that the Blue men was trying to shift us from where we'd dug in, and we jest warn't going to be shifted. Marse Robert and me spent a lot of time riding round the woods and fields, telling the fellas where to dig—like I've told you, Marse Robert was always great on digging—and where to set up the walls of crisscross trees they cut down to fight behind. He had them working all night, most of ‘em, and all the next day, and by the time they'd done I figured any of those people that tried to get through was going to finish up a tolerable sick lot.

‘Fact, they made one or two tries ‘fore we'd entirely finished them defenses. I ‘specially remember one attack the second evening after we got there, ‘cause that was another time when Marse Robert wanted to lead our men into battle hisself, but the other headquarters officers wouldn't ‘low him. Finally he gave in. “You must see to it yourselves, then,” he said, real stern, and what happened was that Marse Taylor and Major Venable galloped off to get the enemy beat back.

What I want to tell you ‘bout, though, Tom, is what happened next morning—'cause that was something real strange. ‘Twas one of the strangest things that ever happened all the time me and Marse Robert was together. It come ‘bout this way. ‘Twas still dark, towards the end of a cold, foggy night, but Marse Robert was up already—he never seemed to sleep more'n three-four hours—when we-all heared heavy musket fire starting up a good ways off. It could only be an enemy attack. I was saddled up in two shakes and we was off in the first gray light—I couldn't hardly see my way and jest had to stumble along through the tangle and brush best I could.

We hadn't gone far when we began meeting up with our own fellas, a-running back past us! Running back! I couldn't remember seeing the like before—leastways, not like that.

Marse Robert snatched off his hat so's they could recognize him.

“Stop, men, stop!” he shouted. “Form line here!” or something o' that sort.

But they didn't, most of ‘em. For all he could say, they jest kept right on past him. He was still trying to rally them when some other officer rode up and started in telling him something urgent. All I could make out from the way they was speaking was that it must be bad news.

Marse Robert reined me in and we turned back through the trees. Thousands of our men was all round now, in the half-dark, pulling on their coats and buckling their belts: officers shouting orders and trying to form up lines in the fog and wet. I jest kept on steady through all the confusion, and fin'lly we pulled up in the center of one of the lines, midway between two different regiments. Marse Robert still kept his hat in his hand, so's everyone could see who he was.

By this time I could hear bullets zipping past, a lot too close for my liking, and when Marse Robert turned my head towards where they was a-coming from, I got to admit I felt fidgety and worse. It ‘peared to me that during these last days he'd become determined to lead a charge personally, and if'n it warn't one then ‘twas going to be another, until either him or me was shot down. But once't again it turned out to be jest the same old riot on the part of our fellas. The commanding general next to him—General Gordon, I think ‘twas—told him he'd got to go back. All the men called out the same, and some of the officers made a little crowd of their horses ‘tween me and the enemy. And then, jest like before, first the general and then one of the soldiers caught hold of my reins and jerked my head to the rear. Marse Robert accepted it. He couldn't do nothing else.

As the daylight growed clear there was an awful lot of hard fighting in and out of the piney woods and acrost the fields. What it come down to was that we was holding off the Blue men, but only jest. I'd come to my own opinion that Marse Robert was settled he was going to get hisself into the battle one way or another. He rode me back a ways till we came to another crowd of our fellas resting beside a road. He told ‘em to form up and go forward to the fighting, and soon as they was ready he lined up to go with ‘em. We hadn't been going long ‘fore enemy shells began busting all round us, thicker'n I'd ever knowed them. I seed two horses go down near us, one of them screaming something terrible. Well, I'll admit to you, Tom, I was terrified. Every time a shell burst, there was more men laying on the ground. I began to rear and plunge. I was near'bouts in a panic and I warn't the only one, horse nor man.

All of a sudden it came to me—all in a single moment, and I'll never know how I knowed it—that there was a shell coming straight for me. ‘Twas as though I was the shell, and I could feel myself hurtling towards the line of men and our leaders on their horses. And one of them horses was me. I seed myself rear up and almost throw Marse Robert to the ground, and as I did that the shell went past, under my girth, jest a few inches from the stirrup. If'n I hadn't reared, we'd both have been killed for sure. It still makes me feel strange to think of it.

That did it, Tom—that did it fin'lly. Goodness knows how many times during them last few days our fellas had told Marse Robert to go back out of the firing. But now they went pretty well crazy. Some of ‘em got ‘tween him and the enemy. Others simply fell on my reins and pulled me round. Marse Robert couldn't stop them. He was a-sitting there in the middle of it all, holding onto his hat and trying to argue. As for me, ‘twas like a dream; I hardly knowed what was happening or what ‘twas I'd done. At last Marse Robert told them that if'n they'd promise to go and lick the Blue men, he'd go back. “Yes! Yes!” they all yelled; so then he reined me in and watched them go dashing off. They must ‘a done what they said, too, ‘cause as we rode away the shelling stopped.