Spring Will Come (44 page)

             
Robert waited impatiently for the order to advance.  Now that the battle had started, all fear and uncertainty had been pushed aside.  He knew his men were watching him and waiting for his signal.  Suddenly a cheer rose from among his men.  He spun back toward the battlefield in time to see another line of Confederate soldiers erupt from the woods behind the church. 

             
“Hood’s men!” the cry rose around him. 

             
The tattered men in gray quickly formed a line that was immediately ablaze with musketry fire.  The deadly barrage broke the Federal line apart.  Filling the air with the Rebel yell, Hood’s soldiers charged, deadly in their intent.  A cheer rose from Robert’s watching troops as the Federals faltered then began to stream backward.  Robert watched grimly as men tried to climb fences, only to hang where they were shot.  The cornfield had turned into a grisly obstacle course, fleeing soldiers stumbling and tripping over the dead and wounded.  The stout Union artillery once more beat the Confederate advance to a standstill. 

             
“Here come some more!” Hobbs yelled.

             
Robert watched as another division of Union soldiers poured from the woods, intent on beating back the Confederate assault. 

             
“Lieutenant Borden.  Order your men right and then forward!”

             
Robert sprang into action.  Their moment had come.  “Ready, men!  Right - march!”  His voice rang out clearly.  His men sprang into action.  Staying low, Robert led his men around the hill and down into the woods bordering the corn field.  Hood’s men were being pushed back before the furious Federal assault. 

             
“Forward!”  Robert yelled.  Once again the murderous Rebel yell burst forth as his men surged through the trees, surrounded by other Confederate units rushing forward to stop the Union advance.   Robert ran forward with his men, firing, reloading, and firing again. 

             
“Aahhh!”  He heard a man only feet from him scream.  Robert looked just in time to see him fall, shot through the head.  He tightened his lips and continued to drive forward.  The shot from the advancing Federals grew even more intense.  All around him men threw up their arms, crumpling where they stood, or pitching forward in a strange dance with death.  The yells of the Union mixed with the screams of wounded Confederates. 

             
A flash out of the corner of his eye grabbed his attention.  He watched as Colonel Masters toppled from his horse, dead.  Blood had turned his uniform crimson before he hit the ground. 

             
“Forward!  Forward!” 

             
Robert recognized the voice of Major Botler.  His men hesitated for a moment, stunned by seeing their colonel fall.  Robert knew if they faltered all would be lost.  He joined his voice to the command.  “Forward!”  His men regrouped and continued to surge forward, jumping over the fallen bodies of their comrades. 

             
The fire from the Federals continued to blast them, the whistling of exploding shells adding to the surreal effect as smoke, trapped by the low clouds, swirled around them, making visibility almost impossible.  Robert tripped and almost fell several times as he tried to race over the men who had already succumbed to the fire.

             
Another scream jerked his attention to the side just in time to see Major Botler grab his side, his face stunned by surprise.  For just a moment, he locked eyes with Robert then tumbled from his horse, dead before he hit the ground. 

             
His men panicked, turning back to flee from the direction they had charged from the woods.  “Forward!”  Robert yelled.  His voice was swallowed up by the melee.  His men continued to run, beaten back by the superior force.  Robert glanced over his shoulder at the advancing Federals and turned to join his men.  He would have to regroup. 

             
“Get ‘em boys!”  Another long line of Confederate reinforcements shot out of the woods, racing through Robert’s fleeing men.

             
Robert breathed a sigh of relief.  It would give his men time to regroup before they had to charge back into battle.  Once he had reached the woods, he looked around frantically for Captain Dickens.  Now that Colonel Masters and Major Botler had fallen, it would be up to him to lead the assault.  He was nowhere to be seen.  Robert would have to lead the charge. 

             
Robert spun to look back at the battlefield.  The fresh wave of Confederate soldiers was pushing back the Union assault.  It would give his men a brief respite.  Suddenly he groaned as a yelling unit of Union soldiers poured from the woods.  He watched in amazement as they yelled and laughed hysterically, firing frantically as they rushed forward.  His blood chilled. 

             
“Lieutenant!”

             
Robert turned around to see Hobbs standing beside him, Granite pawing the ground expectantly.  He took the reins reluctantly.  He knew he was in charge now.  Giving Granite a quick pat, he vaulted into the saddle.  “I’m sorry, Carrie,” he muttered.  He wished for any other horse to ride into the carnage being played out before him. 

             
Raising his hand, he made a grand sweeping gesture and yelled at the top of his voice.  “Forward!  Charge!” 

             
His men hesitated for just a minute then rushed in behind him, their yell splitting the air.  “Forward!”  Robert yelled again.  Their guns exploded in a wave of flame as his men poured fire into the advancing Federals. 

             
The Union faltered but continued to sweep on.  Robert’s men continued their furious firing, reloading, and firing again.  Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the Federals ground to a halt but never ceased their firing. 

             
“Give it to them, boys!”  Robert yelled.   It was the last thing he remembered.              

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

             
Hobbs watched in horror as Robert toppled from the saddle.  He could see blood pouring from the lieutenant’s forehead, as the front of his uniform turned dark red.  He groaned and tried to break through the wall of soldiers to reach Robert’s side.                Suddenly, the wave of Confederate soldiers turned and began to stream back toward the woods.  Robert’s men had seen him fall.  They had lost all appetite for battle as they watched all their commanding officers die before their eyes. 

             
“No!” Hobbs yelled.  “I got to get the lieutenant!”  He fought the tidal wave of men but was swept along with them.  Tears streamed down his face as he stumbled into the cover of the woods, another contingent of Rebels surging past to stop the newest assault.  Hobbs collapsed against the nearest tree and stared out onto the battlefield.  He could see Robert lying where he had fallen. More men were falling around him. He groaned loudly, burying his face in the rough bark of the tree.

             
“Come on, Hobbs!  We gotta get out of here!”

             
Hobbs shook his head and jerked away from the soldier pulling at him.  “No!” he yelled.

             
“There ain’t anything you can do for the lieutenant now,” the soldier insisted, ducking as a bullet whizzed past his head.

             
“He saved my life, Walker!”  Hobbs hollered.  “He saved my life!  I can’t just leave him!”

             
“He’s dead!” Walker screamed back.  “You can’t do anything for him.”

             
Anguish tore at Hobbs’ heart.  Walker was right.  He spun around for one last look at his lieutenant.  Suddenly he froze.  Robert’s hand fluttered upward as if he were grasping for life.  “Did you see that?” he yelled above the firing.  “The lieutenant moved.  He moved!  He ain’t dead!”

             
Walker pulled at his arm.  “You’re seeing things, Hobbs.  Anyway, if he ain’t dead now, he soon will be!”

             
Rage tore through Hobbs’ anguish.  He jerked away.  “So we just leave him?” he cried contemptuously.  “Go on, you coward.  Run away.  The lieutenant saved my life.  He would have done the same for you.  I ain’t leaving him.”

             
Walker hesitated then, his face flamed with shame.  He turned around to stare out at the chaos.  “You’re right,” he finally admitted, though the fear never left his face.  “What do we do?”

             
Hobbs turned to search the field with his eyes.  He needed time to think.  Off to his right, a wounded soldier tried to struggle to his feet.  He had managed to reach a crawl position when his body was suddenly jolted by more bullets.  He flung one arm in the air, gave an unearthly scream then collapsed.  Hobbs shuddered then stared out at his lieutenant again.  “We got to shield him from the bullets,” he yelled suddenly.  “We can’t get him off the field now, but we can at least keep him from getting shot again.  We got to give him a chance!” he yelled desperately. 

             
“Sure,” Walker agreed.  “But what do you have in mind?”  His face was ashen as he stared out at the fighting.

             
Hobbs scanned the area.  “The logs,” he said suddenly.  “All those fallen logs. We’ll build a barricade around him.”

             
Three more men appeared beside them.  Walker grabbed their arms.  “The lieutenant ain’t dead,” he yelled.  Quickly he outlined Hobbs’ plan. 

             
Hobbs dashed toward the nearest log.  Grabbing it up into his arms, he ran out, mindless of the bullets whizzing around his head.   Ducking low, using the log as a shield, he flew to Robert’s side and placed it directly in front of where he lay.   From all appearances, his lieutenant was dead.  Walker materialized beside him, laid a log on top of his then turned, and fled for the woods. 

             
The four men made many trips until Hobbs was satisfied they had done the best they could.  If Lieutenant Borden wasn’t dead, he would at least not catch any more bullets.  When this horrendous battle was finally over, the medics would move in to do their job.   Hobbs turned with the other men and ran for the rear of the lines. 

Robert was vaguely aware of a burning in his side, but his head was hurting too badly to identify its source.  He reached out his hand once and touched what felt like the rough surface of wood.  His mind spun in confusion, trying to make sense of the shots, yells, and screams surrounding him, rolling toward him in wave after wave of fury.  Heat pressed down until the temperature in his body rose in rebellion to match it.  Smoke swirled around
then finally settled on him like a thick cloud.  “Carrie..,” he whispered just once before he slipped into the oblivion of unconsciousness.