On to Richmond (17 page)

             
“Yes, sir.”

             
Robert continued to scan the woods as the word passed down the line of men hiding behind the trees and the crest of the hill facing the river.  A movement to his left caught his attention.   Close inspection revealed two companies of Confederate troops.  He watched as the men took up positions on either side of the bridge.  Colonel Evans had sent them down as skirmishers to detract whatever Union troops were advancing and to sound a warning to the waiting brigade.   General McDowell must be sending a few troops their way to keep them busy while the bulk of the battle happened downstream.

             
Robert could feel the tension in every part of his body.  As he waited, each minute feeling like an eternity, he repeated to himself over and over the orders he had received the night before.  This was his first battle - he wanted to make sure he handled himself and his men well. 

             
The sound of hoof beats broke in upon his thoughts.  Moments later Colonel Evans rode into view behind him.  Robert liked this rude brawler of an officer - insubordinate, gruff and roughhewn.  His full beard, high forehead, and piercing eyes lent him a deceptively patriarchal air.  His bravery and commitment to the cause were not to be questioned.  He would give his all.  Robert could respect that. 

             
“Lieutenant!”

             
“Yes, sir!”  Robert snapped.

             
“Move your men to the crest of the hill overlooking the bridge.  I don’t want anyone to see any movement, so keep everyone down!   Only if the enemy crosses the bridge are you to open fire.  I want to keep them guessing just how small we are.” 

             
“Yes, sir!”

             
Evans turned abruptly and moved away.  Robert raised one arm to gain the attention of his troops.  Moving swiftly, staying close to the ground, his men took fewer than ten minutes to reach their new position.

             
Robert glanced at his watch as he settled low to the ground.  Five forty-five.  The sun was still below the horizon but was casting its rosy hue across the sky.  The morning air was cool, but the day promised to be a scorcher.

             
A sudden movement on the far side of the river caught his attention. Holding what looked to be a flag of some sort, a lone rider broke from the woods and moved toward the river.   As Robert watched, the rider moved to within a couple hundred yards of the bridge, evidently attempting to plant his flag. 

             
Sharp gunfire from Confederate a rifleman broke the morning stillness.  After a long moment, the lone rider turned and disappeared back into the woods. 

             
Robert chuckled.  If that was the best they could do, this wasn’t going to be much of a battle. 

             
Boom!

             
Robert jumped as a thunderous report from the north side of the stream exploded onto the morning.  Once again he glanced at his watch.  Six A.M.  The time would be forever etched in his memory.

             
The battle was joined.  The bombardment had begun.

             
The next hour and a half passed slower than any of Robert’s life.  From their place of concealment behind the hill, they listened to the steady report of guns from the Union troops and from the two brigades down by the river.  He chaffed that he could not send forth a response from his hidden troops, but he had received his orders and he would fulfill them.  Even if it meant he never got to fire a single shot during this battle. 

             
As he listened to the steady firing, he wondered what was going on downstream.  Were Union troops even now battering the better prepared positions?  It was so hard not to know what was going on anywhere but in his own little sphere. 

             
“Prepare to move out!” 

             
Robert, unable to hear Evans’ approach because of the gunfire, spun around to look up at his commanding officer. 

             
“All of this has been nothing but a ploy to hold our attention!  I have just received word that an undetermined number of Federals are marching on our exposed left flank.   Get ready to march to meet them.”

             
Robert stared after him for just a moment.  Now their small brigade was not only faced with enemy brigades in the front of them - they had more coming at them from the side.   He knew their small number would not be enough to hold back what seemed to be heading their way.  In the entire Confederate defense, theirs was the weakest link.  General McDowell had chosen to strike at the Confederate’s Achilles’ heel.

             
His concern was mixed with admiration for Colonel Evans.  A man of less resolution would have withdrawn from his position in fear of being overwhelmed.  No one would have blamed him.  Hopelessly outnumbered, he had chosen to attack.

             
Robert looked at his men with a grim smile.  “I guess we’re going to get that action we were wanting.”  Pushing down his fear, he gripped his rifle and led his men in the direction Evans had indicated.  

             
Sweat was pouring from his body as he went double-quick down the road.  The sun was rising in the sky, fulfilling its earlier promise.  Dust kicked up from the road and coated his face and clothes.  Breathing hard, he kept up a steady pace for his men.  He could hear gasps and an occasional curse behind him, but no one complained. 

             
“Behind those trees!”

             
Robert flashed up Matthews Hill and moved his troops behind a grove of trees that would offer them good protection.  They had a clear field of fire down the slope toward the open road down which the Union troops would have to advance.  Only when all of his men were in position, did Robert sink against a tree and take a deep breath.  Just for a moment. Then he was up, scanning the road in front of him. 

             
He had done the best he could to encourage his men.  Somehow they knew this battle wasn’t going the way anyone had expected.  The Union forces were taking action no one had anticipated.  Everyone had thought the men skirmishing them this morning would eventually head east in an effort to give backup to the Union troops lined up along Mitchell’s Ford.  Now all any of them could do was hope their own troops there would reach
themselves
in time with backup. 

             
Colonel Evans had done all he could to give the impression of much greater strength than they actually possessed by stretching his men out along a long line.   

             
Robert stared down at the road.  Minutes after they had taken their position, a surge of Federals erupted from the woods. 

             
“Fire!”  Robert yelled loudly, getting off the first round and then turning to reload.

             
Gunfire erupted as the sharp order split the air.  The Federals responded by plunging out into the open in an all-out assault.    Rifle after rifle exploded along the Confederate line in an attempt to halt them. 

             
“Yeah!”

             
“Got that one!”

             
“Come on, you cowards!”

             
For now, at least, the Confederates strongly outnumbered the Federals.  It seemed as if it took only minutes for them to pin the Union infantry down.  The artillery ceased its fire. 

             
Robert knew the Federals were calling for help.   Hastily he swiped at the sweat streaming down his face and quickly reloaded his gun.  They were being given a brief respite, but what was sure to follow would be worse than anything they had yet experienced. 

             
BOOM! BOOM! In what seemed like moments, more Union troops, complete with heavy guns, had swarmed from the woods to join in the battle.  Once again steady gunfire mixed with the shouts and the screams of wounded and dying men. 

             
“Attack!” 

             
Robert heard the shouted command off to his left and watched for just a moment as the 1st Louisiana Battalion swarmed from the woods and hit the center of the Federal line.  Looking back down the scope of his rifle, Robert pulled the trigger and gave a grimace of satisfaction as he watched an advancing blue uniform fall to the ground.    Keeping up steady fire, he kept tabs on the assault going on beside him. 

             
He had grown fond of Major Roberdeau Wheat who was leading the Louisiana Battalion.  As the men surged forward, yelling, shouting and waving knives, the stout Wheat led the way.  Robert knew Wheat’s men had no hope of driving back the line, but they did seem to be delaying the advance.  It would buy them time.  That was all they could hope for. 

             
Robert had just reloaded his gun and gotten another Federal in his sights when he saw Wheat go down.  Many of Wheat’s men lay scattered on the hill, cut down by Union fire. 

             
“No!”  Robert yelled as he refocused on the scope and pulled the trigger.  He felt no satisfaction as he saw another man fall.   “Hold them, boys!”  He would do all he could to give the Louisiana Battalion time to pull their wounded leader behind the lines to the field surgeons.  He loaded, fired as fast as he could, and felt a flash of satisfaction when Wheat was pulled behind the lines.  Robert had no way to know whether the man was still alive, but he’d done all he could.

             
Finally, the Louisiana Battalion pulled back and returned to the line.  They had done their job, but Robert was aware it probably hadn’t been enough.  They had bought the Confederates some time, but there were no reinforcements in sight.  Already the Union troops overreached both flanks of Evans’ thinly spread position.  Federal artillery had nearly silenced their guns.  They could hold the line for only a few more minutes. 

             
“Lieutenant?”

             
In the brief lull of guns, Robert heard Hobbs’ young voice.  He turned and gazed into the boy’s bloodshot eyes and dirty, grimy face. 

             
“We gonna make it, Lieutenant?”

             
Robert swallowed hard.  “It’s not looking good, Hobbs,” he said grimly.   He saw no other choice but honesty. 

             
Hobbs’ determined              gaze never wavered.  He simply nodded and clinched his rifle tighter.   “I can maybe get me one or two more.”   Then his lips began to move in wordless prayer. 

             
Suddenly a shout caught Robert’s attention.  Glancing back over his shoulder, he gave a gasp of relief.  Reinforcements! 

             
“Hold on there, Hobbs.  Looks like General Bee’s boys are getting here just in time!” 

             
Robert and his men cheered as Bee’s men surged through their line and moved to the front, which gave the weary soldiers a brief rest.   Never had they seen a more blessed sight than that wave of gray uniforms moving toward them.   The sound of gunfire exploded around them once more.

             
Reaching for his canteen, Robert took his first sip of water in nearly three hours.  He shook his head when he looked at his watch.  Could it really be only ten o’clock?  He felt that he had spent a lifetime on the battlefield already.   He gulped thirstily then tried to relax.  He knew the respite would be over soon. 

             
Looking out over the scene, in spite of the reinforcements surrounding him, Robert felt despair.  His side was easily outnumbered two to one.  There seemed to be a veritable sea of blue coats facing them. 

             
“Take your positions, men!”

             
Robert heaved himself up from the ground and quickly moved his troops back onto the battle line.   Shells from the line of artillery facing them continued to pound their positions, seeming almost alive as they shrieked overhead, their whistle growing shriller as they approached.  Huge clumps of dirt erupted around them as the shells impacted with the earth.  A brief vision of Carrie’s lovely, fresh face rose before him just before he sighted down his rifle scope and pulled the trigger.  Then all thoughts of anything but survival fled his mind. 

             
“Lieutenant Borden!” 

             
Robert pushed himself back from his position and sprinted over to Evans.  “Yes, sir!”   He listened intently for several minutes and then returned to his men. 

             
Hobbs was watching him come.  The look on the boy’s face made him realize how grim the one on his own must be.   He tried to force a smile.  “Here’s our chance to make history, boys!” his voice rang out.

             
Long minutes passed as orders were given down the line.  Then came the order.  “Charge!”

             
Robert leapt up from the ground and took off at a dead run down the slope of the hill.  His men were all around him, beside and behind.  They were able to fire off only one shot as they crossed the clearing, aiming for a thicket of trees that flanked the Federal guns.  The musket balls poured like rain around them, striking their own muskets, their hats and their bodies.