Chapter XXXII: Malvern Hill--Conclusion

Malvern Hill was a small elevation, not over sixty feet high at its topmost point, on the north bank of the James River. The plateau above was nearly large enough for the entire army, and the approach from the north was rather abrupt, while on the south it was protected by Western River and heavy timber and brush.

The Army of the Potomac took its final stand around this hill in a huge semi-circle, the right and the left resting upon the river, where the gunboats could offer a good support. Back of the Hill was Harrison Landing, which was to be the last stopping place for the great army.

It was the intention of the Confederate leaders to force the fighting simultaneously all along the line, but when the time for action came this was impossible. Owing to the denseness of the forests and the lack of topographical knowledge of the country, some of the divisions went astray and at the important moment were a mile or more away from where they should have been. Nor were some of the Union troops better off. Having retreated in haste and dropped their guns, they, seeing the gunboats on the river ready to support them, ran forward again to find their weapons, and meeting some of the advancing Confederates produced a confusion which broke up all of the plans laid for that section of the battleground.

From early morning the artillery were engaged, but it was not until about one o’clock that the real attack of the Confederates began. From that time on until nine in the evening the battle waged with relentless fury at one spot or another, until, seeing they could not force the Federals from their chosen position, the army of the South withdrew, and McClellan was allowed to go his own way. The losses during the retreat from before Richmond were over fifteen thousand men upon each side.

Early in the morning the Goreville Volunteers found themselves resting upon their arms on a small elevation some distance from the main hill. Here was planted a strong battery which they had been called upon to support. So far this battery had not been into action, but now, at eleven o’clock, it began to belch forth at the Confederates who were advancing in a hollow of the woods below. Only a few shots were fired, the men in gray taking to cover as soon as possible.

“We’re out for hot work to-day,” said Louis, decidedly. “General Lee is going to do his level best to break our backbone.”

“Yah, und maybe it vos his own packbone vill got proke,” put in Hans Roddmann. “I been fightin’ so much der last week it seems like I can’t do noddings else.”

One man had disappeared from the ranks without being either killed or wounded. That was Jerry Rowe. Two days before Jerry had flung down his gun and started on a run for Harrison Landing, and there he was now, skulking among the wagons, waiting for the troops to embark for Washington. Fortunately, neither side had many such arrant cowards as this lad was.

“Attention!” came the cry. “Look to your guns, boys, and see if they are loaded and in good condition. No play to-day. The general expects every man to do his duty.”

“We will! We will! Down with the rebs! Let us drive ’em clear back to Richmond!”

“Hurrah for Little Mac!”

Two hours went by, and again the battery opened up, as a long line of men in gray were seen coming through the hollow at double-quick. The shots did good execution, but the line came on through the brush, over fallen trees and rocks, until it was advancing straight up the little hill.

“Company, attention! Charge bayonets! Forward!”

The battery had blazed away right in the faces of the men in gray, who were yelling at the top of their voices. But leaving their dead and dying behind they strove to reach the cannons. Now the boys in blue swung out to meet them. Crack! crack! went the rifle shots, like barrels of hail, as line after line swung into position, fired, and wheeled away to make room for the next. The execution was fearful and the men in gray faltered at the very mouths of the pieces they desired to capture.

But now reinforcements were coming--a large band of cavalry, with colors flying and the trumpeter blaring wildly. Down the hollow at breakneck speed and up the other side, the horses snorting and prancing as they smelt the smoke and the burnt powder--on and on, until the foot-soldiers had to leap aside to avoid being trodden upon. The Montgomery Grays led the van, and Louis saw Andy in the fore, with saber waving over his head. Andy was yelling and Louis almost imagined he heard his words, but that was impossible in the unearthly racket upon every side. The battle was opened in earnest now and sunset would not see it ended.

“Close up!” It was an order to the Union men, and they closed up around the battery, ready to defend every gun to the last. Still the Confederate cavalry came up, until the leading horse confronted that line of glistening bayonets, and then they paused. But only for an instant; there was a break, and the cavalry rushed through. The battery was lost and the Union men scattered in every direction, most of them flying to the woods on the west. The gunners lay dead at the wheels of their pieces, faithful to the last.

But the victory was a short-lived one. Word had been sent how the battery was being pressed, and a body of New York volunteers were hurried through the woods to the support of the Pennsylvania men. With a ringing cheer they burst into the clearing and the cavalry were shot down, horses and riders, in a fashion that made the leaders think a whole division of the enemy pressed them. The order was given to retreat and they scattered, just as did the Union men but a short quarter of an hour before, and some went into that same woods to the west.

Hatless, saberless, and shot through the left arm, Andy dashed into that thicket to avoid the rain of bullets pouring into what was left of the Montgomery Grays. Poor Firefly limped painfully, shot through the flank. It had been a daring charge, but a useless one, for the battery was again in the hands of Union gunners. He panted for breath and wiped the sweat and dirt from his face.

“Andy!”

“Louis! By all that’s wonderful! Where did you come from?”

“We were driven into this woods by your cavalry--or some cavalry that was with yours. How did you get here?”

“Some Union reserves came up and we had to scatter or be cut down to a man. Oh, but it’s a fearful day for both sides! I wish this war was over, Louis.”

“You don’t wish it any more than I do, Andy. It’s not all glory, is it?”

“Hardly. But, hark! Some troops are coming!”

“And I am not armed!”

“Nor I! Listen--they seem to be passing to our right. We had better separate.”

“You are badly wounded, and so is Firefly.”

“So are you wounded. Your cheek is covered with blood.”

“That’s only a scratch, Andy. But one of your horses stepped on my ankle and that’s not so nice. Hello, what’s the meaning of that?”

The conversation was broken off and both young soldiers stared through the thickets. A strange, heavy smoke was rolling their way. Firefly sniffed it and began to circle about uneasily.

“Andy, I think--”

“The woods are on fire!”

“You are right--and, see! the fire is behind us, too!”

They swung around. It was true, either by accident or design the forest had been ignited, and now the dry brush was burning like so much tinder. From here and there came a distant cry for help.

“It looks as if we were hemmed in, Louis. What shall we do?”

“Do? Get out--just as fast as we can. Come, there seems to be a clear space to our left.”

They hurried off. The wind now began to blow, carrying the burning embers close to each. Firefly snorted in alarm and could scarcely be controlled. As Andy passed under a low-branched tree the animal gave a sudden bound and threw his young master backward. The next instant he was out of sight.

Louis ran forward. Andy lay where he had fallen, motionless and with his eyes closed. His head had struck the root of a bush and he was senseless.

“Andy! Andy!” cried Louis, pleadingly, but there was no response.

The young Union soldier looked back. The fire was advancing with frightful rapidity. He must run with all his might if he would save himself from the devouring element.

But could he leave Andy, his enemy and yet his best friend? No, never! “I’ll die with him before I’ll do it!” he muttered between his set teeth, and caught up the motionless form and slung it over his shoulder. The burden was a heavy one, but he struggled on manfully.

But now he could not go much farther. Every nerve had been strained to its utmost. He stumbled rather than ran a few steps more. Ah, what was this--a tiny stream! He plunged into the water and allowed his clothing to become saturated. He also threw some of the water into Andy’s face.

“Louis--what--what happened?” and Andy’s eyes opened widely.

“Firefly threw you and ran off, Andy. I carried you here. We are not yet safe.”

“You carried me, Louis? How good of you! And the fire is behind?” By a superhuman effort Andy started up. “We must go farther.”

“Yes. If you can walk give me your hand. See, there is a road and beyond is a clearing. Come!”

On they went, side by side, Louis supporting Andy, who was still dizzy. The clearing reached, they saw another road, and beyond was an open field where a regiment of Union men were battling bravely against a broken line of gray. Here both came to a halt and gazed into each other’s eyes.

“We must part, Andy! Good-bye!”

“Good-bye, Louis, and I’ll never forget you. May God spare your life!”

“And may He spare yours, also!”

They shook hands and turned in opposite directions. It was the last the chums saw of each other for many months to come.

The memorable day was drawing to a close when Louis found the Goreville Volunteers, or what was left of them, for the charge at Malvern Hill had cost the command dear. Brave Callings was dead and so were ten others, and six men were missing. But, cut up as it was, the company was joined to the remnants of several others and sent to the aid of the center of the line.

At nine o’clock the Volunteers lay down on their arms, worn out to such a degree that hardly a soldier could keep open his eyes. But the Confederates had been repulsed in handsome shape, and, as worn out as their enemy, they were perfectly willing to withdraw and leave the victory wherever it might rest--which was with the Union forces.

* * * * *

And here properly ends my story of a young soldier in blue and a young soldier in gray. A few days later found the Goreville Volunteers at Harrison Landing, ready to return by water to Washington or to go wherever they were sent. A slight attack was made by the Confederates, but it soon ceased, and the troops of General Lee marched back to the neighborhood of Richmond. From this point Andy, still suffering from his wounds, was allowed to return, for the time being, to his home. Firefly had again turned up, and youth and horse soon found themselves safe in Lee Run once more. Need I say anything of the warm greeting the young Confederate received from his parents and his sister?

“And Louis saved you from the fire, did he?” said Grace, when Andy’s story was told. “How noble of him! He is surely a real hero, even if he is a Unionist!” and her eyes beamed with pleasure. She was thoroughly glad to learn, later on, that Louis was safe.

“Now you are home, you must take it easy for a while,” said Andy’s parents. “You have done enough for the cause.” And the youth who had worn the gray was quite content to rest for the time being.

“I am coming home on furlough.” That was the message Lucy and Martha brought home from the Goreville post-office one day. There was a great bustle all over the house, and when the time came how all waited for the train to arrive!

“I see him! There is Louis!” cried Lucy, and then all rushed forward, to kiss the young soldier and to shake hands over and over again.

“My boy! My boy!” murmured Mrs. Rockford, straining him to her breast. “God be thanked for this day!” And the tears of joy streamed down her cheeks.

“I want to ask you one thing,” said Louis to his father, after the greeting was over. “Did you receive that document I sent--the one made out by Mr. Faily?”

“I did. It came yesterday morning. The edge of the envelope was burnt, and the address scorched, but the document and letter were intact. An hour after they came Mr. Hammer called. I showed him the document and he was thunderstruck. He got out as soon as he could, and by the way he acted I do not believe he will bother us any more.”

“Good!” cried the young soldier. And his heart was lighter than ever.

“Louis, you have done your duty, and more,” said his father, affectionately. “I am proud of such a son.”

“And we are all proud!” cried Martha. “Just as proud as we can be!”

* * * * *

The great rebellion is now only a matter of history. Many of those who wore the blue and the gray are sleeping side by side on the great battlefields. To those who laid down their lives, the Peninsular Campaign was the end of all, but to the great majority it was but the beginning of a conflict which was to wage fiercely for three years longer. Louis and Andy were destined to serve further, the one under the stars and stripes, the other under the stars and bars. But, come what might, neither was to forget those first battles, when each did so nobly Defending His Flag.

THE END.

=Transcriber’s Notes=

Perceived typographical errors have been silently corrected.

Illustrations have been moved nearer to the text to which they refer.