Joseph A Altsheler – Civil War 04 – Sword of Antietam. Chapter 6, 7, 8
CHAPTER VI. THE MOURNFUL FOREST
As the night settled down, heavy and dark, and the sounds of firing died away along the great line, Dick again sank to the ground exhausted. Although the battle itself had ceased, it seemed to him that the drums of his ears still reproduced its thunder and roar, or at least the echo of it was left upon the brain.
He lay upon the dry grass, and although the night was again hot and breathless, surcharged with smoke and dust and fire, he felt a chill that went to the bone, and he trembled all over. Then a cold perspiration broke out upon him. It was the collapse after two days of tremendous exertion, excitement and anxiety. He did not move for eight or ten minutes, blind to everything that was going on about him, and then through the darkness he saw Colonel Winchester standing by and looking down at him.
“Are you all right, Dick, my boy?” the colonel asked.
“Yes, sir,” replied Dick, as his pride made him drag himself to his feet. “I’m not wounded at all. I was just clean played out.”
“You’re lucky to get off so well,” said the colonel, smiling sadly. “We’ve lost many thousands and we’ve lost the battle, too. The killed or wounded in my regiment number more than two-thirds.”
“Have you seen anything of Warner and Pennington, sir? I lost sight of them in that last terrible attack.”
“Pennington is here. He has had a bullet through the fleshy part of his left arm, but he’s so healthy it won’t take him long to get well. I’m sorry to say that Warner is missing.”
“Missing, sir? You don’t say that George has been killed?”
“I don’t say it. I’m hoping instead that he’s been captured.”
Dick knew what the colonel meant. In Colonel Winchester’s opinion only two things, death or capture, could keep Warner from being with them.
“Maybe he will come in yet,” he said. “We were mixed up a good deal when the darkness fell, and he may have trouble in finding our position.”
“That’s true. There are not so many of us left, and we do not cover any great area of ground. Lie still, Dick, and take a little rest. We don’t know what’s going to happen in the night. We may have to do more fighting yet, despite the darkness.”
The colonel’s figure disappeared in the shadow, and Dick, following his advice, lay quiet. All around him were other forms stretched upon the earth, motionless. But Dick knew they were not dead, merely sleeping. His own nervous system was being restored by youth and the habit of courage. Yet he felt a personal grief, and it grew stronger with returning physical strength. Warner, his comrade, knitted to him by ties of hardship and danger, was missing, dead no doubt in the battle. For the moment he forgot about the defeat. All his thoughts were for the brave youth who lay out there somewhere, stretched on the dusty field.
Dick strained his eyes into the darkness, as if by straining he might see where Warner lay. He saw, indeed, dim fires here and there along a long line, marking where the Confederates now stood, or rather lay. Then a bitter pang came. It was ground upon which the Union army had stood in the morning.
The rifle fire, which had died down, began again in a fitful way. Far off, skirmishers, not satisfied with the slaughter of the day, were seeing what harm they could do in the dark. Somewhere the plumed and unresting Stuart was charging with his horsemen, driving back some portion of the Union army that the Confederate forces might be on their flank in the morning.
But Dick, as he lay quietly and felt his strength, mental and physical, returning, was taking a resolution. Down there in front of them and in the darkness was the wood upon which they had made five great assaults, all to fail. In front of that mournful forest, and within its edge, more than ten thousand men had fallen. He had no doubt that Warner was among them.