Civil War stories (1905) (14576179128)

Identifier: civilwarstories00newy (find matches)
Title: Civil War stories
Year: 1905 (1900s)
Authors:
Subjects:
Publisher: New York, The Century co.
Contributing Library: Information and Library Science Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill
Digitizing Sponsor: University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill



Text Appearing Before Image:
comradespause a moment in the mad rush to catch the lastwords of the dying. Incidents such as these thereader must imagine for himself, to fill inthese swift sketches of how the day was won—and lost! Aye, lost! For the balls which have so farcome mainly from our front, begin now to sing infrom our left and right, which means that we arebeing flanked. Somehow, away off to our right, ahalf-mile or so, our line has given way and is al-ready on retreat through the town, while our leftis being driven in, and we ourselves may shortlybe surrounded and crushed—and so the retreat issounded. On, now, through that strip of woods, at theother edge of which, with my back against astout oak, I stop and look at a beautiful andthrilling sight. Some reserves are being broughtup; infantry in the center, the colors flying andofficers shouting; cavalry on the right with sa- A DRUMMER-BOY AT GETTYSBURG 119 bers flashing and horses on a trot; artillery onthe left, with guns at full gallop sweeping into
Text Appearing After Image:
THE DRUMMER-BOY AT HIS POST position to check the headlong pursuit—it is agrand sight and a fine rally, but a vain one; for 120 CIVIL WAR STORIES in an hour we are swept off the field and are infull retreat through the town. Up through the streets hurries the remnant ofour shattered corps, while the enemy is pouringinto the town only a few squares away from us.There is a tempest of shrieking shells and whist-ling balls about our ears. The guns of that bat-tery by the woods we have dragged along, all thehorses being disabled. The artillery-men loadas w7e go, double-charging with grape and can-ister. Make way there, men! is the cry, and thesurging mass crowds close up on the sidewalks toright and left, leaving a long lane down thecenter of the street, through which the grape andcanister go rattling into the ranks of the enemysadvance-guard. And so, amid scenes which I have neither spacenor power to describe, we gain Cemetery Ridgetoward sunset, and throw ourselves down by theroad in a