Read Online Killing Lincoln: The Shocking Assassination That Changed America Forever by Bill O'Reilly, Martin Dugard - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Bill O'Reilly, Martin Dugard
Ads: Link
what’s happening. He doesn’t waste a second. The Texan yells for his Confederate cavalry to prepare for a counterattack.
The Confederate general James Dearing, just twenty-four years old, leads the way. Both sides race toward each other at top speed before pulling back on the reins in the center of the plain. The fight becomes a brutal test of courage and horsemanship. Men and horses wheel about the battlefield, fighting hand to hand, saddle to saddle. Each man wages his own individual battle with a ferocity only a lifeand-death situation can bring. Bullets pierce eyes. Screams and curses fill the air. The grassy plain runs blood-red.
A rifle is too unwieldy in such tight quarters, so men use the butt end rather than the barrel. Pistols and sabers are even more lethal. “I have been many a day in hot fights,” the unflappable Rosser will marvel later, “but I never saw anything approaching that at High Bridge.”
Rosser’s gaze drifts over to the amazing sight of his enemy. Washburn, in the thick of the action, is a frenzied dervish, slaying everything in his path. Men fall and die all around as Washburn rides tall in the saddle, his saber slashing at any man who steps forward to challenge him.
Suddenly, the young Confederate general Dearing shoots the Union general Theodore Read, at point-blank pistol range. Read falls from his saddle to the ground. Seeing this, Colonel Washburn takes his revenge. He engages Dearing in an intense saber duel, brought to a sudden end when a Union soldier fires two bullets into Dearing’s chest. His sword falls to the ground, as does he.
Washburn is still sitting tall in the saddle—but not for long. As he turns his head, he is shot through the mouth at point-blank range. The bullet lodges in his lungs. His jaw hangs slack as blood pours from the hole in his face, down onto his sweaty, dusty blue uniform.
The force of the gunshot does not kill Washburn, nor even render him unconscious. It is, however, strong enough to knock him out of the saddle for the first time all day. As the colonel falls, a Confederate
flails at his toppling body with a thirty-four-inch saber, burying the blade deep in Washburn’s skull. Incredibly, one day later, as a burial detail cleans the battlefield, Washburn will be found alive.
There are many, many casualties.
The Confederates lose 100 men.
The Union loses everyone.
Every single one of the 847 Union soldiers sent to burn High Bridge is either captured or killed. Those who try to fight their way out are slaughtered, one by one. The failure of the Union infantry to obey Washburn’s orders to attack sealed their fate.
Rosser leads his weary men back toward Rice’s Station, content in the knowledge that he has single-handedly saved the Confederacy.
Lee will now have his escape. Or at least it appears that way.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THURSDAY, APRIL 6, 1865
ON THE ROAD TO FARMVILLE, VIRGINIA
AFTERNOON
A s the battle for High Bridge commences, Union general George Meade’s infantry finally finds the tail end of the Confederate column about ten miles away from the High Bridge fight. A hard rain falls. In the first of what will be many firefights on this day, small bands of Union soldiers begin shooting at the Confederate rear guard. The movement is like a ballet, with skirmishers pushing forward through the trees and craggy ground to engage the rebels. The instant they run out of ammunition, these skirmishers pull back and another group races forward to take their place. And all the while, other infantrymen capture artillery pieces, burn wagons, and force the rebels to turn and fight—and sometimes even dig in, separating them further from Lee’s main force.
Confederate general John Gordon’s force falls behind first. The ferocious Georgian understands that he is being cut off. In fact, Lee’s entire Confederate army is being separated. No longer is it a single force; it has been broken into four separate corps. Under normal conditions, the
The Confederate general James Dearing, just twenty-four years old, leads the way. Both sides race toward each other at top speed before pulling back on the reins in the center of the plain. The fight becomes a brutal test of courage and horsemanship. Men and horses wheel about the battlefield, fighting hand to hand, saddle to saddle. Each man wages his own individual battle with a ferocity only a lifeand-death situation can bring. Bullets pierce eyes. Screams and curses fill the air. The grassy plain runs blood-red.
A rifle is too unwieldy in such tight quarters, so men use the butt end rather than the barrel. Pistols and sabers are even more lethal. “I have been many a day in hot fights,” the unflappable Rosser will marvel later, “but I never saw anything approaching that at High Bridge.”
Rosser’s gaze drifts over to the amazing sight of his enemy. Washburn, in the thick of the action, is a frenzied dervish, slaying everything in his path. Men fall and die all around as Washburn rides tall in the saddle, his saber slashing at any man who steps forward to challenge him.
Suddenly, the young Confederate general Dearing shoots the Union general Theodore Read, at point-blank pistol range. Read falls from his saddle to the ground. Seeing this, Colonel Washburn takes his revenge. He engages Dearing in an intense saber duel, brought to a sudden end when a Union soldier fires two bullets into Dearing’s chest. His sword falls to the ground, as does he.
Washburn is still sitting tall in the saddle—but not for long. As he turns his head, he is shot through the mouth at point-blank range. The bullet lodges in his lungs. His jaw hangs slack as blood pours from the hole in his face, down onto his sweaty, dusty blue uniform.
The force of the gunshot does not kill Washburn, nor even render him unconscious. It is, however, strong enough to knock him out of the saddle for the first time all day. As the colonel falls, a Confederate
flails at his toppling body with a thirty-four-inch saber, burying the blade deep in Washburn’s skull. Incredibly, one day later, as a burial detail cleans the battlefield, Washburn will be found alive.
There are many, many casualties.
The Confederates lose 100 men.
The Union loses everyone.
Every single one of the 847 Union soldiers sent to burn High Bridge is either captured or killed. Those who try to fight their way out are slaughtered, one by one. The failure of the Union infantry to obey Washburn’s orders to attack sealed their fate.
Rosser leads his weary men back toward Rice’s Station, content in the knowledge that he has single-handedly saved the Confederacy.
Lee will now have his escape. Or at least it appears that way.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THURSDAY, APRIL 6, 1865
ON THE ROAD TO FARMVILLE, VIRGINIA
AFTERNOON
A s the battle for High Bridge commences, Union general George Meade’s infantry finally finds the tail end of the Confederate column about ten miles away from the High Bridge fight. A hard rain falls. In the first of what will be many firefights on this day, small bands of Union soldiers begin shooting at the Confederate rear guard. The movement is like a ballet, with skirmishers pushing forward through the trees and craggy ground to engage the rebels. The instant they run out of ammunition, these skirmishers pull back and another group races forward to take their place. And all the while, other infantrymen capture artillery pieces, burn wagons, and force the rebels to turn and fight—and sometimes even dig in, separating them further from Lee’s main force.
Confederate general John Gordon’s force falls behind first. The ferocious Georgian understands that he is being cut off. In fact, Lee’s entire Confederate army is being separated. No longer is it a single force; it has been broken into four separate corps. Under normal conditions, the
Similar Books
![Training Their Mate [Pack Wars-Book 1]](https://fs.dianahicksbooks.com/559068/thumbs/152x264/training-their-mate-pack-wars-book-1.jpg)
