Joseph A Altsheler – Civil War 04 – Sword of Antietam. Chapter 14, 15

“An omen of victory,” exclaimed Dick, when he saw the captured cannon.

“Careful, Dick! Careful!” said Warner. “Remember that you’re not strong on omens. You’re always seeing sure signs of success just before we go into a big battle.”

“If Dick sees visions, and they’re visions of the right kind, then he’s right,” said Pennington. “I’d a good deal rather go into battle with Dick by my side singing a song of victory, than croaking of defeat.”

“That’s good as a general proposition,” said Warner, “but I was merely cautioning him not to be too enthusiastic. What kind of a country, Dick, is this into which we are going?”

“Hilly, lots of forests, particularly of cedar, and brooks, creeks and rivers. Murfreesborough itself is right on Lytle’s Creek. Bragg will meet us at the line of Stone River.”

“Maybe they’ll retreat and go eastward to Chattanooga,” said Pennington.

“I think we’d better dismiss that ‘maybe,'” said Dick. “You haven’t heard of the rebels running away from battles, have you?”

“What I’ve generally seen, in the beginning at least,” said Warner, “is the rebels running toward us, jumping out of the woods and yelling like Indians. I have seldom found it a pleasant sight. I’m glad, too, Dick, that Stonewall Jackson isn’t here. Do you see that big cedar forest over there on the hillside? Suppose he should come rushing out of it with twenty or twenty-five thousand men.”

“Stop,” said Pennington. “You give me the shivers, talking about Stonewall Jackson swooping down on us with an army corps, when happily he’s four or five hundred miles away. I’m seeing enough unfriendly faces as it is. Look how the people in this village are glaring at us. Fellows, I’ve decided after due consideration that they don’t love us here in Tennessee. If you were to ask me I’d say that blue was not their favorite color.”

“At any rate we don’t stay long. Good-bye, friends, good-bye,” said Warner, waving his hand toward two or three men who stood in the door of an old blacksmith shop.

“You laugh, young feller,” said a gnarled and knotted old man past eighty, “an’ mebbe it’s as well for you to laugh while you have the time to do it in. Mebbe you’ll never come back from Stone River, an’ if you do, an’ if you win everywhere, remember that we, too, will yet win everywhere.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“All the Yankees, whether they win or not, will have to go back north, except them that are dead, an’ we’ll be here right on top of the lan’, livin’ on it, an’ runnin’ it, same as we’ve always done.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Warner soberly.

“There’s a power of things the young don’t think of,” said the ancient man. “Mebbe the South can be whipped, but she can’t be moved. She’ll always be here. People hev made a war. I don’t know who started it. I reckon there’s been some powerful mean an’ hot talk on both sides. I knowed great men that seed this very thing comin’ long ago an’ tried to stop it. I went over in Kentucky more than once an’ heard Henry Clay speak. I don’t believe there was ever another such a talker as he was. He had sense an’ knowledge as well as voice. He done his best to smooth over this quarrel between North and South that others was eggin’ on all the time, but he couldn’t, and I reckon when Henry Clay, the greatest man God ever made, failed, it wasn’t worth while for anybody else to try. Ride on, young fellers, an’ get yourselves killed. You ain’t twenty, an’ I’m over eighty, but I guess I’ll be lookin’ at the green trees when you’re under the ground. Ride on in the rain an’ the cold, an’ I’ll go inside the shop an’ warm myself by the forge fire.”

The three boys rode on in sober silence. The words of the ancient philosopher were soaking in with the rain.

“Suppose we don’t come back from Stone River,” said Pennington.

“We take our chances, of course,” said Dick.

“And suppose what he said about the South should prove true,” said Warner, thoughtfully. “One part of it, at least, is bound to come true. That phrase of his sticks in my mind: ‘Mebbe the South can be whipped, but she can’t be moved.’ The Southern states, as he says, will be here just the same after the war is over, no matter who wins.”

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