Prisoner in Time (Time travel) (26 page)

“You are. What are you… like forty or something?” he shot back.

“Thirty-six years
young
,” David replied, only slightly offended by the comment.

“Whatev,” Geoff replied, still carrying the joke.

As several men rushed past them carrying their haversacks and rifles, they were reminded of their immediate task and the lighthearted banter quickly came to an end.

“We better get going,” David said, simply.

Geoff took a deep breath and exhaled.

“Ok, let’s do this. I’m ready,” he responded resolutely.

-----*-----*-----*-----

One hour later:

The rolling field was dotted with trees. On the northern side, at the edge of the forest, a hastily assembled series of breastworks were erected. Logs and boulders were pushed into place, then piled on top of each other. Although it afforded some protection, large gaps in the barriers betrayed their efficiency. Rushing to fill the gaping holes, the small group of gray coated men hurried back into the forest in search of anything solid.

On the southern side of the rolling field, nearly a mile away, another hastily assembled series of breastworks lay just beyond the southern forest. Waiting patiently for their orders, blue coated men clutched their weapons and stared menacingly to the north. Just behind them, several cannon and mortar batteries aimed high above their heads. Well-trained soldiers hurried in their work as they prepared to unleash a rain of death from the massive iron behemoths.

Union Gen. George Thomas, commander of the Army of the Cumberland, sat on his horse and viewed his line of troops to the east. Spread out over miles of territory, the bulk of his army was beyond his sight and he relied on reports from his officers, confirming location and strategic setup. As he stared through his field glasses, he noticed weakness in his line nearly a mile away. He glanced around him. Confident the left flank of his army was positioned and secure, he refocused on the line’s more pressing needs. With a quick jab of his heels, he galloped off toward the east to the faulty skirmish line.

Filing in from the north, Confederate Lt. Bradford ordered his sergeants to strategic locations along the edge of the northern forest. With little time to prepare, he utilized the land’s natural layout for protection. As the sergeants moved into position, they ordered men in their charge to scavenge the region for anything solid, hoping to fortify their positions.

Sgt. Cooper shouted orders as his men scurried into position. Ordered to protect the western end of the battlefield, his task was daunting. With a loss of two brigades in earlier campaigns, manpower was limited, causing large gaps in the skirmish lines. He would not only need to protect a gap on his left between he and another company of soldiers, he was also facing a completely unprotected right flank that could easily be overrun by a larger foe.

As his men assembled in the clearing on the edge of the forest, he felt some relief that Lt. Bradford had sent ahead a battery of men to build a series of breastworks. Seeing weakness in their construction, he ordered his men back into the woods in search of logs and boulders. With each minute that passed, the roughly strewn debris became a formidable barrier.

David and Geoff worked feverishly in their search for anything deemed usable. While Geoff dragged a heavy log across the ground, David carried two large stones weighing thirty pounds each. Placing them at the base of the breastworks, they both worked them into the structure, little by little closing the dangerous gaps.

Geoff turned about to search for more and suddenly he noticed the sergeant eyeing them both.

“David, check it out. The Sarge is watching us,” Geoff whispered.

“I noticed. Every time I turned around, he was there,” David responded in hushed tone.

“I guess he’s making sure we don’t run away while we’re in the woods.”

“Yup, I guessed the same,” David concurred, wiping sweat from his brow from the strenuous work.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Geoff added.

David glanced back to the sergeant. He was now following them back into the woods.

“Man, I don’t have a good feeling about his either,” David responded.

As the two kept a watch on the sergeant, he continued his watch on them. An hour later, with the breastworks completely fortified, David and Geoff examined the protective wall for the safest locations to shoot from. At the furthest point, the two noticed a large pile of rocks that capped the end of the wall.

“I think we should hide behind those rocks. Even if they had machine guns, they still couldn’t touch us,” Geoff remarked.

Further up the line, David noticed a section where logs and stone were stacked high enough for a man to stand. He pointed to it.

“I like that spot over there. It can take a lot of punishment and at least a man can stand. Those boulders on the end are kind of low, so you’d be on your knees the entire battle.”

Further up the line, the terrain sloped higher, but the protection was thin or nearly non-existent. David looked at it with apprehension.

“Man, you couldn’t pay me enough to take that position up there,” he said, pointing. “It’s higher, so you’re firing down at the enemy, but DAMN, there’s almost no cover.”

“Yeah, it sure looks…”

“Y’all fall in,” Sgt. Cooper shouted, cutting Geoff off in mid-sentence.

Quickly, the company of one hundred men stood shoulder to shoulder and waited their orders. Calling out to his corporals, Sgt. Cooper directed them to various locations along the skirmish line.

“Hmm, guess we don’t get to pick our own spot,” Geoff said, waiting nervously for their orders.

David’s eyes told the story. Deep with apprehension, no words were needed. He only nodded toward Geoff and listened intently as new orders were given.

“Corporal Jessup, assemble your men ahead of Corporal Alexander,” Sgt. Cooper shouted, pointing to the region just before the high wall.

Geoff looked over to the breastworks and spotted the location they would be fighting from under Cpl. Jessup. Turning back to David, he said, “Not bad, I guess. It’s not our first or second choice, but still a good location I think.”

David continued to listen, nodding only slightly to Geoff’s statement. As the sergeant finished his orders, he made one last announcement.

“I need my sharp shooters all up yonder on that there bluff,” he said, pointing. “Yall ‘ill be pickin’ ‘em off as they try and cross the field. Shoot fast and slow ‘em down, so’s we can whoop ‘em from down here.”

Upon hearing the order, Geoff’s stomach began to churn. He felt sick with anxiety. Looking over to David, he too carried the same expression. No words were needed to express the fear they felt.

As the half dozen sharp shooters began to step forward, the sergeant noticed the grim expression on their faces. Understanding their fear he added, “It don’t look like much, but y’all ‘ill be shootin’ down on them there yanks and doing it from afar, so y’all don’t need much cover.”

David placed his hand on Geoff’s shoulder. In a low sympathetic tone he said, “You’ll be ok. Just keep low.”

Geoff nodded simply. It was all he could do.

Sgt. Cooper turned his attention to Geoff. Noticing his hesitation, with a sardonic grin he said, “That means you too New Mexican.” Turning to the other sharp shooters, he said, “Y’all make sure New Mexican here, don’t get lost while he’s up there, ya here?”

“Yes Sir, sergeant,” they responded.

Geoff joined the group of six men and headed up toward the bluff. David watched him momentarily, then turned to join the other men of his unit.

“Not so fast, Warner,” Sgt. Cooper shouted.

David spun on his heels and watched the sergeant walk toward him with purpose.

“You’ll be a’fightin’ with me over by the narrows,” he said, pointing to a thin section in the wall. “Wouldn’t want you to suddenly get ‘lost’ when the shootin’ starts, now would I?”

David glanced over to the poorly protected region in the wall, then back to the sergeant.

“No Sir, sergeant,” he responded in sickening tone.

-----*-----*-----*-----

With the company of soldiers now in position, they waited nervously for the battle to start. Each man stared off across the field to an enemy they could barely see a mile away. Some stood where the breastworks were high enough, others knelt where it wasn’t. Most were quiet at their station, lost in the thoughts of their mortality.

David stared down the barrel of his rifle. Lying on his stomach, he squinted hard and could just make out the tiny shapes at the far end of the field. Positioned behind a single log, he realized at best, half his body was exposed. He glanced up toward the shallow incline to the bluff where Geoff was now position and realized the teen’s protection was no better than his. For a moment, he was overcome with deep sadness as he thought about the depth to which the teen’s life had fallen.

Geoff stared down the barrel of his rifle and watched a man on horseback ride back and forth along the distant forest. Barely visible from his location, he wondered about the person’s rank. He glanced over to the men on his left, then back to the rider. In that brief moment, the rider had stopped. He watched for only a moment more, then turned to his right. Instantly, he noticed David’s sad face staring back at him. In that instant, he felt great sympathy for David and shot him a smile to cheer him up.

Seeing Geoff’s smile eased his mind slightly and he nodded and smiled in return. As the two connected briefly in time, elsewhere, others conspired to sever that connection…

-----*-----*-----*-----

Union Gen. George Thomas hauled back on his reins and brought his horse to a stop. He gazed up and down his line once more, confirming their readiness. Drawing his sword from its scabbard, he raised it above his head and announced a single command:

“FIRE!”

From across the field, a mile away, several plumes of white smoke drifted upwards towards the sky. Sgt. Cooper eyed the telling signals with indifference as his mind refused to acknowledge their significance. As the sound raced across the field, its muffled report was barely detectable, betraying the gravity of its intention.

In that split second, Sgt. Cooper’s mind processed the two signals. Reality struck him hard and fast. He inhaled a deep breath, and expelled a grave and fearful order:

“Y’ALL TAKE COVER!”

Suddenly, the roar of the shell sounded above their heads as it passed over and impacted a tree behind them. Instantly, the top half sheared off and toppled over, falling across a section of the breastworks, crushing a man in its path. Screams of agony echoed from the injured private as he lay pinned between the decimated tree and breastworks.

Seconds later, another shell roared over their heads and impacted a tree deeper in the forest. Instantly, it exploded sending shards of shrapnel in all directions. Down the line, near the far end of the breastworks, a single cry of pain rang out into the still morning air, confirming what they already knew: the Battle of Dalton had started.

More shells roared across the sky and impacted the woods behind the Confederate skirmish line. As the Union cannons missed their targets, a moment’s pause resulted in the Union commander’s recalculations. Within seconds, the cannons were readjusted and fired once again.

More projectiles whistled through the cold morning air, telegraphing their deadly intentions. All along the Rebel skirmish line, the Union ordinance fell far short. Near the end of the wall, a single shell contacted the ground several yards away. As it exploded, it instantly sent shards of molten material forward. Most that lay behind the impenetrable wall, breathed a sigh of relief. One did not.