The Smoke at Dawn: A Novel of the Civil War (29 page)

“My family’s dead. I got no children. No kin. Got a good friend in the regulars. We been through a lot together. Shiloh, Corinth, Vicksburg. That’s all. I never thought it’d be like this, but I like soldiering. Don’t want to do anything else.”

His answer seemed to disarm the man, and beside him, the one he knew as Caldwell said, “Leave him be, Irwin. I know what he’s saying, I guess.” The man looked at Bauer, heavy, tired eyes, a scruff of a beard. “My little girl passed on a few months ago. A fever took her. Four years old. I ain’t been home since before it happened. Can’t say I’m itching to go back. But my wife … well, a man ain’t worth much if he’s not there for his woman. She wants more babies. Reckon that’s my job to help out. Army lets me go, I’m gone. Nobody waiting for you a’tall?”

Bauer shook his head, stared into the fire. “No wife. Nobody.”

Zane said, “Why they call you Dutchman?”

“My family’s German. Came over here before I was born. Picked Milwaukee ’cause there was a lot of Germans there.”

“Shiloh, huh? You a hero then?”

The words came from the angry man, Irwin. Bauer hesitated, realized he had no reason to hide anything from these men.

“Never been so scared in my life. Rebs come up out of the woods like they were demons. I ran until I gave out. Bunch of us. Took some good officers to gather us back up. It turned out okay. But I’m no hero.”

The response seemed to surprise them all, Irwin pointing a knife Bauer’s way.

“You do that to my squad, I’ll cut you open. No room for cowards in this army. The regulars know you’re a coward?”

Caldwell said, “You can shut that up. I seen you at Gettysburg. Crawled behind a damn rock and waited for the storm to pass. And a bunch of us was right there with you. I seen Dutchman shoot, watched him kill a rebel back there day before yesterday. I’ll pay heed to
you
when I see you do the same.”

Irwin seemed to deflate, aiming his scowl more to the fire than to Bauer. “Hmph. I killed plenty of rebs. Seen the elephant plenty of times.”

There was a murmur of laughter, Bauer not in on the joke. Caldwell looked at him, said, “There’s no heroes at this fire. But we made the fight. General Geary won’t tolerate
timid
. We took our share of musket fire at Chancellorsville, too. Some of these boys were at Cedar Mountain.”

The names were familiar but Bauer knew very little of those fights. He stared into the fire, chewing on the last piece of bacon, and after a silent moment, said, “I guess we’ve all seen rebs. Probably more to come.”

There was a mumble of agreement, and Bauer stretched his arms upward, felt a wave of sleepiness. There was a sudden chatter of insects, far out beyond the camps, and Bauer froze, his ears straining to hear, knew it wasn’t insects at all. Around him, the men seemed to come awake, sharp glances toward the woods, the road beyond. Voices started now:

“Muskets!”

“Rebs!”

“Hush up! Where they at?”

Their muskets were stacked close by, and already the men were moving, crawling toward them. The drums came now, the long roll, the alarm. Bauer saw the lieutenant running up, bent low.

“Rebels! They’re coming!”

There was panic in the man, too much panic, but the musket fire was increasing, still far away, a chattering storm, no sign of the muzzle blasts. The sergeant was there now, handing out muskets from the stack, calling out, “Check your cartridge boxes! Fall into formation!”

The lieutenant was running in a manic scamper among his platoon, called out, “Load muskets! Prepare to receive the enemy!”

The bugles were sounding, a harsh hum of activity all through the wooded camps. Bauer held his musket, went through the routine, energized by the cold in his chest, the feeling he knew too well. He completed the task, placed the percussion cap on the nipple at the musket’s breech, the musket now a weapon. His eyes stayed on the trees, darkness broken by the reflected firelight, nothing else to see.

The men began to move, following the officers, swords pointed, other units gathering, the lines forming, facing the sounds of the fight. The order came to halt, the road out to one side, the musket fire coming that way, far to the north. Bauer stood nervously, thought, Night? Darkness? Nobody can fight in the dark. He glanced down the line of men, another line forming up behind, knew to kneel, still nothing to see.

Out on the road, Bauer saw a horseman coming fast from the direction of the fight, an officer riding hard into woods behind them. Beside Bauer, the sergeant said, “He’s going to Geary. We’ll know pretty quick what’s happening.”

To one side, the lieutenant called out, “Be prepared to advance! Make ready to receive the enemy!”

The two orders were a contradiction, and Bauer closed his eyes, thought, Too young. Bet he’s never done this before. These men are veterans, don’t need that kind of panic, not from an officer.

The musket fire stopped now, Bauer, the others straining to hear more. He saw Captain Gimber step out front, as though seeking a closer look, the man staring out with his hands on his hips. There were more horses, from behind them, and Bauer turned with the others, was surprised to see General Geary, a flock of aides, officers stepping out of line to gather closer. Geary halted the horse, stared out down the road, no sounds, and Bauer could see a hard scowl on the man’s face, a shake of his head.

The lieutenant kept his place, said aloud, “Come to attention!”

The order was mostly obeyed, others focused more on Geary. Bauer stood, planted the musket by his side, watched the cluster of officers, Gimber walking out to the road, joining the group. Geary looked out toward the men, spoke out loud enough for them to hear.

“You boys did fine. Made ready in good order. Can’t say the same for some of the others. There was a skirmish out on the Ferry Road. A handful of rebs tried to do … well, whatever rebs do. The Twenty-ninth is posted a half mile out there as pickets, and all I know is that Colonel Rickards came hightailing it down here to tell me all hell was breaking loose. Then, before he could give me the report,
all hell
turned into nothing at all. For all I know, they were shooting at ghosts. There’s some old coot lives near these woods, says there’s several hundred rebels on the far side of the creek, up thataway. We’ve also heard that half of Longstreet’s corps is breathing down our necks from the base of the big mountain. Not sure if any of that is true. But there’s too many Nellies in this bunch. You’re all too damn itchy, and as dark as it is now, I don’t want any mistakes. Officers, have the men keep close to their muskets, but keep them tight in hand. No firing at anything unless you hear the order. Nobody wanders off, nobody empties his musket, until things calm down.”

Bauer looked down again, felt the strength of Geary’s order, thought, Guess I like this man a little better today. Nothing wrong with holding on to a loaded musket, when you’re in a reb’s backyard.

Geary looked upward, seemed to examine the black sky, and Bauer did the same, saw the soft glow of thin clouds drifting past a half-moon. Geary said aloud, “If there’s any rebels out and about, they’ll probably stay to themselves. The whole Eleventh Corps marched through here today, heading north.”

A voice called out, and Geary turned that way, saw men pointing toward the peak of Lookout Mountain. Bauer could see what they saw, flickers of light along the crest, high above them. Gimber moved toward his men, said aloud, “Just rebel signal lights. Get used to it. They’re all over the top of that mountain, but no worries for us. They’re just jabbering back and forth, showing off how scared they are.”

Bauer felt a chill, more nerves than the cold air, didn’t care for the thought of rebels looking straight down on him.

Geary said, “Stay close to your fires if you want. But I’d get some sleep if I were you. That’s it. Captain, see to your men. Calm them down. There’s no damn ghosts out here. Anybody wounded by mistake, it’s your responsibility.”

Geary nudged the horse, his aides following, was gone quickly, moving along to the next camp, the next regiment, camped farther out in the trees.

The lieutenant was there now, still agitated, moving through his men.

“Back to camp! Pay heed to the general’s instructions!”

The men spread out to their own fires, kept their muskets in hand, and Bauer found his place, sat, welcomed the warmth, cradled the musket across his legs. The chatter began again, the men more nervous, Bauer and the rest of them glancing up often to the lights from the rebel camps.

He felt sleep coming, the fire dancing through blurred vision, soaked up a last blanket of warmth. He started to stand up, looked toward his tent, and far out in the trees, a musket fired. Bauer turned that way, nothing to see, felt a stab of annoyance. The words came from Irwin, to one side.

“Some jackass …”

More muskets fired now, all from the same place, the muzzle blasts flickering far out in the woods. Around the other fires, men were standing up again, all staring out, the light from the fires blinding, blocking their vision. The musket fire increased now, spreading out to one side, toward the great mountain, and Bauer felt the cold stirring in his chest, his fingers curling hard around the musket. Farther away, men were shouting, the camps of the other units, nearer the village, men close to the railroad. To one side, Captain Gimber appeared, stopped, staring out toward the musket fire, then pulled his sword, held it high, shouted out, “Up, to formation! Bugler, blow formation! Prepare to receive the enemy!”

Close to Bauer, a man laughed, Irwin, called out to the captain, “Hell, it’s just ghosts, Capt’n.”

The musket ball whistled past Bauer, then another, and he could
see specks of fire, the muzzle blasts scattered out through the far trees. The bugle sounded, Captain Gimber still waving the sword, the man calling out, “Prepare to receive the enemy! He’s coming from that way!”

Bauer followed the others, the men moving forward in good order, most still not believing what they could all hear in front of them. Behind him, the voice of the sergeant.

“Kill the fires! Kill the fires! Stomp ’em out! Now!”

The men obeyed, a scramble of dirt and boots, the flames knocked down. Bauer stumbled, furious at the darkness, could see more of the muzzle blasts now, a wide line, flickering through the trees, the harsh
zip
of the musket balls to one side. Orders were shouted out from every direction, more musket fire coming in bursts, volleys fired out of black darkness. He felt a hand on his shoulder, a hard grip on his shirt, loud voice in his ear.

“Form here! Prepare to receive the enemy!”

The men pushed past Bauer, and he followed, falling into line, a bugle call somewhere behind them, more officers pulling their men into formation. The fires were smothered now, the cries and shouts filling the darkness, nonsense and chaos, orders blending into panic. But the line formed, the men in front settling down to one knee, another order, “Advance! Prepare to fire!”

The bugle sounded out the new order, the men up and moving, the lieutenant close in front of them pointing with the sword, pistol in the man’s hand. Bauer ignored him, looked for the captain, still struggled to see through the black woods, his eyes not yet clear of the firelight. He blinked, focused forward, furious at the blindness, looked up, finally, could see the tops of trees, a scattering of stars, the clouds still drifting past the moon. All through the woods, voices were rolling through and he felt the sweating grip on the musket, the frantic beating in his chest, looked down, searching the ground in front of him, then out farther through the trees, any kind of movement, anything at all. The officers had command now, the captain to one side, the sergeant up behind him, the orders given, nothing else to do, the line still advancing, slow, steady steps, men slipping forward around the trees, no one firing. And, out in the dark: nothing at all.

They kept to their formation for several minutes, questions coming now, nervous men calling out, Bauer keeping close to the men on either side, the line steady, strong. He thought of Shiloh, the darkness, the panic, men shooting at squirrels, at deer and rabbits, and, sometimes, at one another. Beside him, more questions, rolling anger.

“Who was it? Was it rebs?”

“Hell if I know! Stay ready!”

“Those jackasses in the Twenty-ninth, I bet.”

“It’s the Twenty-ninth, for sure!”

There was another burst of firing, the volley still to the right, a sharp flash, answered now by their own men, farther down the way. The muskets traded fire again, and Bauer could hear the shouts from officers, one piercing scream from a wounded man. All through that part of the woods, men on both sides were calling out, the rebels rallying their own, pushing forward. But still the Pennsylvanians kept together, the men closest to him with no enemy yet, angry anticipation. Bauer saw the lieutenant, the sword in the air, followed him slowly forward, and now, an obstacle rose up in front of them, the lieutenant calling out, “Fence line!”

Another voice, to one side, Gimber.

“Form here, behind the fence! Good cover! Make ready! No firing until you have a target!”

Bauer put one hand out, felt the heavy timbers, squatted, felt the thick mass of a fence post, steadied himself. He felt the fence rails, leaned the musket up, aiming out, still nothing to see. The captain’s words rolled through him.
Good cover
. He glanced to the side, away from the firing, thought, Yeah, good cover. If they don’t come up behind us. Or … over there, the other side.

All along the fence, the men waited, enduring the fight that pressed against other units, volleys traded back and forth, distant sheets of fire. Bauer kept the musket ready, felt the bayonet hanging at his side, blinked that away, no bayonets, not in the dark. Don’t want to be that close to anybody out here. He kept his stare out past the fence line, still no targets, nothing at all but dark woods. He tried to aim, sighted down the barrel, could barely make out the iron sights, thought, Just shoot at ’em. Nothing else we can do. If they come. The musket fire came again, another volley, this time out to the left side. But the men
there were ready, a quick order Bauer could hear, the volley returned. Very soon, the firing seemed to scatter, the voices of the rebels calling to their own, officers trying to restore some kind of order. More firing came down to the left, seemed to spread behind them, and Bauer felt a cold stab, looked that way, the men around him doing the same.