Part 27 (1/2)
”That settles it,” said the general, getting upon his feet and knocking the ashes from his pipe in a manner which seemed to say that the interview was at an end. ”I'll take pains to see your colonel, but I do hope there are not many in my command whose ages are under eighteen or over thirty-five. However, I may be able to infuse a little patriotism into them, and shall have something to say about it in a general order.”
”I thank you, sir, for the a.s.surance,” replied Rodney.
He made his best salute and retired, but during the rest of the day he was not as jubilant as he had been when he came off post; and when he went back that night to do duty at the general's tent, he took note of the fact that his commander paid no more attention to him than he would have paid to an entire stranger. Rodney felt hurt at that, and as soon as he could do so, after guard-mount the next morning, he hunted up his friend d.i.c.k and told him the whole story. He wanted sympathy and encouragement and got both.
”You did perfectly right,” said d.i.c.k, emphatically. ”We could have pa.s.sed the examination easy enough, and in a week or two might have been galloping around camp covered with gold lace, and looking as sweet as two government pets; but we don't care half as much for staff office as we do for our discharges. You made the general mad and I am sorry for that; but after all it's natural, for the commander who discharges the smallest number of men will stand highest in the good graces of his superiors. See? So long as he keeps his troops in the service, it doesn't make a particle of difference whether he keeps them in by promises or threats. He's a bully fellow, and the despots at Richmond will reward him.”
Some of the sergeant's words were confirmed that very afternoon, and in a most startling manner. For days it had been whispered about among the men that there was trouble brewing in General Bragg's corps, and on this particular day it was brought to a head by the mutiny of a Tennessee regiment, who stacked arms and refused to do duty. The twelve months for which they volunteered had expired and they wanted to go home. Before entering the service they made provision for their families for just one year, and since that time their State had been over-ran with raiding parties from both armies, their crops had been destroyed, their stock killed, their buildings given to the flames, and their wives and children turned out into the weather. They wanted to see these helpless ones taken to places of security, and then they would return to a man, and stand by their comrades until the last Yankee invader had been driven into the Ohio river. But Bragg said they shouldn't go, and fixed things so they couldn't. He did just what Beauregard did when Hindman's Arkansas troops prepared to return to their State to repel the ”invasion” of General Curtis. He told them that if they didn't pick up those guns in less than five minutes he would have the last one of them shot, and they picked them up; but in an hour's time it was whispered through the ramp that all the service old Daddy Bragg would get out of those Tennesseans wouldn't amount to much. We shall presently see how much truth there was in the report.
A few days after this the order of which General Howard had spoken was issued, and read to those regiments in the brigade whose term of service was about to expire. They were informed that they would now come under the Conscript Act, and that every man of them who was subject to service under that Act would be summarily conscripted unless he chose to re-enlist. The regiments to whom the order was addressed had all performed gallant service and gained imperishable honors, and the general hoped they would preserve both their name and organization by volunteering in a body to serve for two years, or until the end of the war. If they did, they would have the privilege of electing their own officers, and would be placed on the same footing as the other volunteer regiments; and those of their number who, by reason of age, were not subject to conscription, would serve until the 15th of July, when they would be discharged.
The order concluded with a fierce denunciation of General Butler's rule in New Orleans and a glowing appeal to their patriotism, all of which the men cheered l.u.s.tily; but when the ranks were broken and the different ”cliques” got together, they did not try to keep up any show of spirit. So far as Rodney Gray could learn, there was not a man in his regiment who would have volunteered if he had seen a fair chance to desert and get across the river. Desertion was a thing that had never been talked of before among Price's men. As volunteers, they would have died rather than think of such a cowardly way of getting out of the army, but it was different now. Even, if they re-enlisted under the provisions of the Conscript Act, how much better would they be than conscripts while bearing the name of volunteers? They would be forced into the army against their will, wouldn't they and wouldn't that make them conscripts? They appeared to submit because they could not help themselves; but desertions took place every day. Some got safely off, but those who were caught in the act were shot without any trial at all. The men were sullen, talked mutiny among themselves, and Rodney Gray looked for nothing else but to see them rise in a body, kill their tyrannical officers, and disperse to their homes. It was a terrible state of affairs, the nearest approach to anarchy there ever was or ever will be in this country, and during those troublous days and the subsequent retreat to Tupelo, General Halleck received into his lines no less than fifteen thousand deserters.
The farce of electing new officers and reorganizing the various companies and regiments in the brigade took place in due time, and once more d.i.c.k Graham found himself in the ranks. He was not a candidate for any office and neither was Rodney, although they might have had commissions if they had chosen to accept them. They did not so much as hint that they had been offered something better than the company or regiment could give them-a position on the general's staff-for they did not think it would be policy to do it. There were plenty of mean men in their regiment, as there were in every one in the service, and since they could not get discharges themselves, they would have been glad if they could have kept Rodney and d.i.c.k from getting them; and if they had suspected that Rodney had a friend in the general of the brigade, they would have reported him every chance they got, no matter whether he had done anything wrong or not. After this the two friends waited with as much patience as they could for the time to come around when they would be free once more.
During this time almost constant fighting had been going on somewhere along the line, and although Rodney and d.i.c.k could not see the use of it, those in authority could, for they were quietly making preparations to withdraw from a place which was no longer of use to them. On the 26th, 27th, and 28th of the month, the fighting was very severe, and Rodney's regiment, which was at the front, was badly cut up. Although d.i.c.k Graham was now a private he was called upon at times to do duty as a sergeant, and on the afternoon of the 28th, he was sent with a small squad, one of whom was Rodney Gray, to take charge of an advanced post. It was much nearer our lines than were the trenches in which the regiment was fighting, but it was also much safer, for the sh.e.l.ls from both sides went high over their heads. Here they remained in perfect security, talking, laughing and telling stories while the roar of battle was going on all around them, and waiting for their relief, which was to come at six o'clock. It did not come, however, until after nine, and by that time it had grown so dark that it was only after infinite trouble and bother that they succeeded in finding their way back to the main line, only to learn after they arrived there, that their regiment had been withdrawn three hours before, and n.o.body could tell where it was now. d.i.c.k Graham didn't care much where it was, for he had no intention of going to it that night. It was more than three miles to camp, and d.i.c.k saw, when he pa.s.sed that way three days before, that the road was blocked with wagons, artillery trains and stable-lines, and to these obstructions were now added sleeping men, who would not be over civil to any one who chanced to stumble against them in the dark. So d.i.c.k drew his squad off into the woods out of the way and went into camp; that is to say, he ate the little piece of hard tack he found in his haversack, washed it down with a drink of warm water from his canteen, rolled himself up in his blanket and went to sleep.
”There goes reveille,” exclaimed Rodney, hitting him a poke in the ribs the next morning about daylight. ”But it's in the enemy's camp, and I don't think we'll pay much attention to it. I am going to sleep again.”
”Say,” said one of the men, ”I reckon we'd best be toddling along, for if I didn't hear wagons and troops moving all night, I dreamed it. Let's get up and go as far as the diggings any way, and get a bite to eat.”
The ”diggings” referred to was a pile of hard-tack which, when Rodney first saw it, was almost as long and high as the railroad depot. There were several thousand boxes in the pile, and there they had been beside the road, exposed to all sorts of weather, ever since they arrived in Corinth. Why they were not served out to the men instead of lying there to waste no one knew or cared to ask; but every squad that pa.s.sed that way made it a point to stop long enough to break open a few boxes and fill their haversacks. Toward these ”diggings” d.i.c.k and his men bent their steps, and before they were fairly out of the woods in which they had slept, they became aware that they had been deserted. There was not a man in sight, and the guns which looked threateningly at them over the top of the nearest redoubt, they found on inspection to be logs of wood.
”Beauregard's whole army has fallen back, and done it so silently that they never awoke us,” said d.i.c.k. ”Let us hurry on and get into our lines before some of the enemy's cavalry come along and gobble us up. What do you see, Rodney?”
”I am afraid we are gobbled already,” was the answer, ”I saw some men dodging about in the woods over there. If they are not the enemy's pickets they must be our rear guard, and as we can't get away we had better go over and make ourselves square with them.”
This proposition met with the approval of his comrades, but it did not seem to suit the men in the woods, for d.i.c.k's squad had not gone many steps in their direction when some one called out:
”By the right flank, march!” and the command was emphasized by the sudden appearance of half a dozen muskets which were pointed straight at them.
”Who are you, and what are you doing there?” demanded d.i.c.k.
”Who are you, and what do you want of us?” asked one of the men in reply. ”Are you from Tennessee?”
”No; Missouri.”
”By the right flank, then, and toddle right along. You want no truck with us; but if you meet old Daddy Bragg tell him to come and see us. We've got something for him.”
”All right,” answered d.i.c.k, as he and his squad faced to the right and marched away. ”Good-by, and good luck to you. I don't think old Bragg will come out,” he added, when the men had been left out of hearing. ”They'd shoot him as quick as they would any other varmint. There must be two or three hundred in that party, and they straggled out of the ranks last night in the dark. They'll stay there until the enemy's advance pa.s.ses, and then they'll come out and give themselves up. Slick scheme, but I'd die before I would do it myself.”