Dark Chaos (# 4 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series) (12 page)

“Stop firing!”  Robert screamed, an instinctive reaction to the horror unfolding before his eyes.  “Stop firing!”

              Major Simpson, riding just feet from his position, gave an unearthly cry and toppled from his saddle.  Ten feet over, another figure slumped and slid from his horse.  Granite plunged to a halt then reared in protest at the onslaught of fire.  Robert grabbed his mane and leaned forward, lying low against his neck.  Turning his head, he watched as Jackson’s horse, frantic with fright raced straight toward the woods then broke again to the rear. 

             
Robert groaned as Jackson lurched in the saddle then slumped forward.  He had been hit!   The general’s horse, uncontrollable now, dashed into a stand of trees.  Jackson, unable to control his mount, was smashed in the face by an overhanging limb.  Robert watched, helpless to intervene, as another horse dashed through the woods and approached Jackson.  The general was toppling from his saddle as the man reached out and caught his lanky body. 

             
Robert groaned and spurred Granite onward, mindless of the danger.  “General Jackson is with us.  Quit firing!  You’ve hit the general!” 

             
The firing ceased, but distant argument and cursing indicated it could start up again any second.  Robert sagged in his saddle then turned back to see what he could do.  Moments later Yankee artillery again split the night with fire and destruction.  Robert groaned as more of his party fell from their horses, screaming and moaning in pain.   Was there going to be no end to this night?

“Fall back to the left!”  Moses hollered.  Ducking low, he darted to the left, uncertain as to how many
men in his unit were still with him in the dark chaos.  If his men could circle around the entrenchment blocking the Rebels’ way, maybe the North could surprise them from the rear.  Suddenly a spattering of fire opened from directly in front of him.  Seconds later, shooting erupted from the right.  Moses stopped, totally confused. 

             
“Who’s who?” screamed a frightened voice behind him. 

             
Moses shook his head, his mind swarming.  Who was the enemy?  Who was on their side?  He realized with a sinking heart that he wasn’t sure of their location or even which direction they were supposed to be headed.  The obscure labyrinth of ravines and hillocks, of dwarfed thickets and giant trees, combined with the deadly crescendo of gunfire, had completely bewildered him.   “Stay down!” he yelled frantically, trying desperately to make some sense of the nightmare he was living. 

             
Moses groaned as he heard some of his men - at least he thought they were his men - scream in agony but then fall silent.  The dark forest was becoming its own cemetery.   Gunfire sounded from all directions.   He could see no more than ten feet in either direction.  He cringed as a nearby explosion of bullets struck the trees surrounding him. 

             
“Good Lord, man.  What we gonna do now?”

             
Moses heaved a sigh of relief as Pompey crawled up next to him.  He had no answer to his question, but it was good to know he wasn’t totally alone.  “Our men?”

             
“Ain’t no way of knowin’ where they be or how many still be livin’,” Pompey gasped.  “I reckon we be in a mess sho nuff!” 

             
“We don’t move till we have some idea what we’re moving into,” Moses said sternly, then hugged the ground more tightly as another barrage of lead passed overhead.  Groans of the wounded, distant orders and curses, the whistling and roaring of guns, the crackling of branches, and the thunder of artillery all joined together in one diabolical crescendo. 

             
Suddenly there was a break in the fire to the right.  Moses reacted instinctively.  If they were running toward Rebels, they would at least be giving chase and obeying the order to keep moving forward.  If they were Federals, they could find out where they were and what was going on.  “Forward!”  Moses cried, springing up, dashing toward the darkened area, and holding his bayonet in readiness.  He could hear men crashing through the brush behind him, but there was no way of knowing how many there were.  He could be moving into more danger than he had already been in.  Sucking in his breath, Moses charged over the entrenchment and expected at any moment to have gunfire explode in his face.  Only dark emptiness met his searching eyes.  “Whoever it was took off!” he crowed triumphantly, relief causing him to sag against a tree. 

             
“What now, Moses?” 

             
Moses looked around to see about fifty of his men gathered in the clearing with him.  He grinned, relieved to see so many of them still alive.  “I guess we keep moving forward, boys.”

             
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a rough voice snapped. A tall figure strode from the woods.

             
Moses tensed, holding his bayonet in position.  “Who goes there?” he barked.

             
“Lieutenant Jamison,” the shadow snapped back.  “I’m on your side.  You and your boys are headed right into a Confederate trap.  They’ve already captured hundreds of our men out there on the road.  You’d better get the devil out of here.”

             
Moses peered over to the right.  Was the man telling him the truth?  Captain Jones had ordered him to continue advancing no matter what.

             
“Who are you, soldier?” the lieutenant asked sharply.

             
“Private Moses Samuels,” Moses responded instantly.

             
“Already
private
,” Jamison growled.  “I’m giving you orders to turn your men around and head back for our lines.  We’ve done all the damage we can do for one night.  None of you will do us any good if you end up in a Rebel prison.  Not to mention, them Rebs won’t take too well to soldiers they figure are still just slaves.”  He paused before resuming, more compassion in his voice.  “Get going.  That’s an order!”

             
“Yes, sir,” Moses responded promptly.  He hesitated but then decided being humiliated was better than putting his men in danger.  “Which way are our lines, sir?”

             
Jamison laughed.  “I just found someone who could tell me!  Go directly to your left.  You’ll stumble onto them eventually.”

             
“Yes, sir,” Moses said gratefully and then turned to his men.  “Left.  March!”

Exhaustion dogging every movement,
Robert wiped at the grime on his face.   He knew he needed coffee, but he couldn’t find the energy to walk to the campfire.   He heard movement and looked up wearily.  Crocker was heading toward him with a cup of coffee.  “Thank you,” he muttered gratefully, reaching for the hot steaming liquid.  It made little difference what was being passed off as coffee now - it was hot.  He raised it to his lips and drank.

             
Crocker settled down next to him.  “What happened out there, sir?”

             
Robert shrugged.  “Just routine reconnaissance,” he said casually.  The officers had decided the men didn’t need to know their hero, Stonewall Jackson, had been shot and wounded. 

             
Crocker sat quietly for several moments before he looked up.  “That’s not what the men are saying, sir,” he said tentatively, then paused.  “They’re saying General Jackson is dead.”  Fear was evident in his voice.

             
“Nonsense!”  Robert said sharply, realizing the rumors would be worse than the truth.  He couldn’t be responsible for anyone else’s men, but his at least would face battle knowing the real situation. 

             
“I heard some of the fellows from North Carolina thought the general’s party was Yankee cavalry and fired on them.”

             
“That much is true,” Robert admitted.  “Look, the general was wounded, but he wasn’t killed.  He was hit in the arm several times.  It’s broken pretty badly, but there’s no reason to think he won’t recover just fine.”

             
“Lots of others were killed, weren’t they?”

             
“Yes,” Robert said heavily, once more reliving the horror of the night. 

             
“I reckon we’re gonna draw back then, huh?”  Crocker asked. 

             
Robert looked up quickly.  “Jackson’s orders are clear.  We’re to hold our line and advance.”

             
“But who will lead us?  We need General Jackson!”  Crocker’s voice sounded genuinely alarmed as fear sprang to his eyes. 

             
“General Stuart has been called up,” Robert said confidently. 

             
“General J.E.B. Stuart?”  Crocker asked hopefully.

             
“The same,” Robert said firmly.   “I have every confidence in his ability to lead.”

             
“I’ve heard lots of good things about him,” Crocker admitted, some color returning to his face.  “You say the general will be all right?”

             
“Of course.  It’s nothing but a wound.”

             
Crocker nodded and then stood.  “I’ll go tell the rest of the men.  We’ll be ready when it’s time.”

             
Robert smiled as Crocker walked off.  This boy straight off the farm probably had no idea what this war was all about, but he was meeting it with courage and determination.  Robert’s smile faded.  How many fine, courageous men would die before it was all over?

CHAPTER SIX

             
The sun was just peeping over the horizon when Carrie left her father’s house on Church Hill and strode up the hill toward Chimborazo Hospital.   There had been reports the night before that the first train loads of wounded soldiers would arrive at the station that morning.  Every available space in the sprawling hospital had been readied during the last three days.  The summer of 1863 would evidently be a repeat of the previous two.  At least this time they were better organized and more capable of meeting the challenge.  Experience had sharpened them.

             
“Wait for me!” 

             
A distant holler caused Carrie to stop.  A brisk breeze teased tendrils from her bun.  She pushed at them impatiently as she gazed north of the city and waited for her friend.   Somewhere across the stand of trees, only fifty-five miles from where she was standing, another battle was taking place.   She knew little of the sketchy details being relayed to the capital.  Every waking minute had been spent preparing the hospital for its newest onslaught of wounded and maimed. 

             
Breathless from her rapid ascent up the hill, Janie joined her. 

             
Carrie frowned.  “I thought you were sleeping in this morning?  You weren’t feeling well last night.”

             
“I can’t lie in bed when our soldiers are coming in today.  The way I feel is nothing compared to the pain they suffer.”