Audubon County journal. (Exira, Iowa) 1884-1993, 1911-12-28


ward In a great white cloud, we could
plainly distinguish the advancing
Federal lines, three ranks deep,
stretching to left and right in one
vast, impenetrable blue wall, sweep
ing toward US upon run. Where but
a brief moment before the plain ap-
peared deserted, 1t was now fairly
alive with soldiery, the sun cleaning
on fixed bayonets, and faces aglow
with the ardor Of surprise. Some one
had blundered! The thin, unsup-
ported line of gray infantry directly
in our front closed up their shattered
ranks hastily in desperate effort to
stay the rush. We could see them jam
ming their muskets for volley fire,
and then, with clash and clatter that
drowned all other sounds, battery of
six black guns came flying madly past
US, every horse on the run, dashed
into frenzy by his wild rider. With
carriage and caisson leaping at every
jump, the half-naked, smoke begrimed
cannoneers clinging to their seats like
monkeys, they dashed recklessly for
ward, swung about into position, and
almost before the muzzles had been
well pointed, were hurting canister
into that blue, victorious advance
How those gallant fellows worked!
their guns leaping into air at each
discharge. their movements clock
work! Tense. eager, expectant, every
hand among us hard gripped on sabre
hilt, we waited that word which sure
ly could not be delayed, while from
end to end, down the full length of
our straining line, rang out the yell
of exultant pride.
STEADY, men; steady there, lads!"
called the old Colonel, sternly, his own
eyes filled with tears. Our turn will
come"
Torn, rent shattered, bleeding,
treading upon the dead and mangled
in rows, those iron men in blue came
on. They were as demons laughing at
death. No rain of lead, no hail of
canister, no certainty of destruction
could check now the fierce impetus
of that forward rush. God knows it
was magnificent; the supreme effort
OF men intoxicated with the enthusi-
asm Of war! Even where we were
We could see and feel the giant power
In those grim ranks of steeEthe tat
tered flags, the stern, set faces, the
deep-toned chorus OF GLORY, glory,
hallelutah," that echoed to their tread.
Those men meant to win or die, and
they rolled on as Cromwell's Iron
sides at Marston Moor. Twice they
staggered, when the mad volleys
ploughed ragged red lanes through
them, but only to rally and press
sternly on. They struck that crouch
ing gray line of infantry, fairly buried
1T with their dense blue folds, and,
with one fierce hurrah Of triumph,
closed down upon the guns. Even as
they blotted them from sight, an aide,
hatless and bleeding, his horse
wounded and staggering from weak
ness. tore down toward us along the
crest. A hundred feet away his
mount fell headlong, but on foot and
dying he reached our front.
Colonel Carter" he painted, press
ing one hand upon his breast to keep
back the yelling blood, charge, and
hold that battery Until we can bring
infantry to your support"
No man among us doubted the full
meaning of tive were to save the
army! The very horses seemed to
feel sense of relief, hands clinched
more tightly on taut reins to hold
them In check; under the old battered
hats the eyes of the troopers cleaned
hungrily.
"Virginians!" and the old Colonels
voice rang like a clarion down the
,breathless line, "there is where you
die! Follow met"
Slowly, like some mighty mountain
torrent gaining force, we rode forth
at walk, each trooper lined to pre-
clsion of review, yet instinctively tax
ing distance for sword play. Halfway
down the slight slope our line broke
into sharp trot, then, as the thrilling
notes of the charge sounded above us
VIC oWSpC lOl NdlO III VIII, llupSIuOuS
tumult.
/ Who can tell the story of those
seconds that so swiftly followed
Surely not one who saw but the vivid
flash of steel, the agonized faces, the
flame of belching fire. l recall the
frenzied leap of my horse as we
struck the line ere it could form into
square; the blows dealt savagely to
right and left; the blaze of volley
scorching our faces; the look of the
big infantryman rode down; the
sudden thrust that saved me from a
levelled gun; the quick swerving of
our horses as they came in contact
with the cannon; the shouts of rage;
the blows; the screams of pain; the
white face of Colgate as he reeled
and fell. These are all in my mem
ory, blurred, commingled, indistinct,
yet distressful as any nightmare. In
some way, how l know not, l realized
that we had hurled them back, shat.
tered them by our first fierce blow
that the guns were once again ours
that fifty dismounted troopers were
Juggling desperately at their wheels.