Read Online They Met at Shiloh by Phillip Bryant - Free Book Online
Authors: Phillip Bryant
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guarding the knapsacks or equipment when danger is in the air.”
“How you think he got second sergeant?” Theo asked. “He didn’t get it whipping Secesh. He got it with that bragging mouth of his.”
Sammy frowned at them. “Bah! The time will come, and one day he will be seen for what he is. Once we face the Secesh again, then we’ll see that white feather he’s been a-hidin’. He’ll turn and run first sign of trouble. Just you watch and see if he doesn’t.”
Theo got up and stretched. He looked down the road and then pointed. “I see movement on the road, pards. Looks like the rest is over.”
The men groaned. Philip sighed as he struggled to sit upright against the knapsack’s pull.
CHAPTER 4
Camp of 25th Missouri Volunteers
Pittsburg Landing, 3 AM April 6, 1862
“U p, up! Company B is ordered to stand to arms. C’mon, up, up.”
The voice of First Sergeant Hammel sounded into the tent as an unwelcome messenger of bad news. Robert rubbed his eyes and allowed them to adjust to the darkened tent. The fog of deep sleep melted away slowly, bringing with it the realization he had not been long in slumber; something odd was up.
“Up, up! Get your traps and fall into the company street with arms. Light marching order. Get off your arses and get moving!”
“What’s going on?” Huebner asked.
“Get up and get you traps, Dunkopf. Get ready for Marsch,” Hildebrande snapped.
“March? In this dark?”
“Ja. Get up.”
“Get dressed, Hube,” Robert said as he buttoned his sack coat and felt around for the rest of his leathers. “We got to form up on the company street. Light marching order, Hube. Just grab your leathers and haversack. Don’t need your knapsack.”
Huebner made a whining noise. “Isn’t today Saturday?”
“Ja, what does it matter, Kind? Rouse!” Gustavson tersely ordered.
“I thought Hauptmann Schmitz give us morning off from drill.”
“Hube, just get ready for a march, all right?” Robert said, exasperated.
The Sibley began to empty rapidly as others finished dressing and stepped out. Robert stepped over the bedrolls of his tent mates and ducked out into the open air. It was dark, chilly, damp, and uninviting. The company area was alive with noise and muffled conversations and, except for the darkness, would have seemed like a typical morning. At the head of the company street roared a fire, its light illuminating a crowd of orange-faced watchers.
Robert squeezed his way into the circle and welcomed the warmth on his face and legs. The essential gallon of coffee was boiling, and he could detect just the slightest wisp of steam rising out of its vent. Like vagabonds or street urchins, the men held their muckets, awaiting the generosity of the company cook.
Hours could be spent just staring into the flames. At this hour, there was little talk. Even the company wags were content to just watch the flames and rub the sleep out of their eyes.
A familiar face poked itself into the light of the fire. “Form up on the street in thirty minutes.” The face disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared.
“What time is it?” a voice broke the silence.
A figure in the circle produced a time piece. “Two in the morning.”
Like a solitary rain drop that announces the coming storm, those first words broke the quiet at the fireside.
“Patrol?”
“Dunno.”
“That’s why we have pickets.”
“They’ve got us and D and E Companies rousted. What else could it be?”
“Maybe we’re increasing the pickets.”
“Maybe ol’ Colonel Peabody has finally gone mad. He’s sendin’ us chasin’ Rebel ghosts again.”
“Maybe so, but he could’ve picked a better hour to do it.”
“He’s probably still in his tent countin’ Rebs in his sleep.”
“Naw. Saw him not more than ten minutes ago talkin’ to Colonel Van Horn, and he looked his normal agitated self.”
“He’s still gone mad, seein’ Rebs behind every bush and tree for weeks.”
“No
“How you think he got second sergeant?” Theo asked. “He didn’t get it whipping Secesh. He got it with that bragging mouth of his.”
Sammy frowned at them. “Bah! The time will come, and one day he will be seen for what he is. Once we face the Secesh again, then we’ll see that white feather he’s been a-hidin’. He’ll turn and run first sign of trouble. Just you watch and see if he doesn’t.”
Theo got up and stretched. He looked down the road and then pointed. “I see movement on the road, pards. Looks like the rest is over.”
The men groaned. Philip sighed as he struggled to sit upright against the knapsack’s pull.
CHAPTER 4
Camp of 25th Missouri Volunteers
Pittsburg Landing, 3 AM April 6, 1862
“U p, up! Company B is ordered to stand to arms. C’mon, up, up.”
The voice of First Sergeant Hammel sounded into the tent as an unwelcome messenger of bad news. Robert rubbed his eyes and allowed them to adjust to the darkened tent. The fog of deep sleep melted away slowly, bringing with it the realization he had not been long in slumber; something odd was up.
“Up, up! Get your traps and fall into the company street with arms. Light marching order. Get off your arses and get moving!”
“What’s going on?” Huebner asked.
“Get up and get you traps, Dunkopf. Get ready for Marsch,” Hildebrande snapped.
“March? In this dark?”
“Ja. Get up.”
“Get dressed, Hube,” Robert said as he buttoned his sack coat and felt around for the rest of his leathers. “We got to form up on the company street. Light marching order, Hube. Just grab your leathers and haversack. Don’t need your knapsack.”
Huebner made a whining noise. “Isn’t today Saturday?”
“Ja, what does it matter, Kind? Rouse!” Gustavson tersely ordered.
“I thought Hauptmann Schmitz give us morning off from drill.”
“Hube, just get ready for a march, all right?” Robert said, exasperated.
The Sibley began to empty rapidly as others finished dressing and stepped out. Robert stepped over the bedrolls of his tent mates and ducked out into the open air. It was dark, chilly, damp, and uninviting. The company area was alive with noise and muffled conversations and, except for the darkness, would have seemed like a typical morning. At the head of the company street roared a fire, its light illuminating a crowd of orange-faced watchers.
Robert squeezed his way into the circle and welcomed the warmth on his face and legs. The essential gallon of coffee was boiling, and he could detect just the slightest wisp of steam rising out of its vent. Like vagabonds or street urchins, the men held their muckets, awaiting the generosity of the company cook.
Hours could be spent just staring into the flames. At this hour, there was little talk. Even the company wags were content to just watch the flames and rub the sleep out of their eyes.
A familiar face poked itself into the light of the fire. “Form up on the street in thirty minutes.” The face disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared.
“What time is it?” a voice broke the silence.
A figure in the circle produced a time piece. “Two in the morning.”
Like a solitary rain drop that announces the coming storm, those first words broke the quiet at the fireside.
“Patrol?”
“Dunno.”
“That’s why we have pickets.”
“They’ve got us and D and E Companies rousted. What else could it be?”
“Maybe we’re increasing the pickets.”
“Maybe ol’ Colonel Peabody has finally gone mad. He’s sendin’ us chasin’ Rebel ghosts again.”
“Maybe so, but he could’ve picked a better hour to do it.”
“He’s probably still in his tent countin’ Rebs in his sleep.”
“Naw. Saw him not more than ten minutes ago talkin’ to Colonel Van Horn, and he looked his normal agitated self.”
“He’s still gone mad, seein’ Rebs behind every bush and tree for weeks.”
“No
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