He couldn't even send for morphine.
The South had no more morphine. The blockade's iron hand was on her
hospitals now.
Ned fought for half an hour behind a tree. Twice the bullets striking
the hark knocked pieces into his eyes. He was sure at least fifty Minie
balls struck it.
A bald-headed Colonel rushed by at double quick leading a fresh regiment
into action to support them. The hell of battle was not so hot the
Southern soldier had lost his sense of humor. They were glad to see this
dashing old fighter and they told him so in no uncertain way.
"Hurrah for Baldy!"
"Sick 'em, Baldy--sick 'em----"
"I'll bet on old man Baldy every time----"
"Hurrah for the bald-headed man!"
The Colonel paid no attention to their shouts. The flash of his muskets
in the deepening twilight turned the tide in their favor. The big guns
had been unlimbered and pulled back deeper into the blue lines.
John Vaughan's line was swung to support the charge of Hooker's old
division which first halted the rush of Jackson's men. In the field
beyond the Chancellor House stood a huge straw stack. As the regiment
rushed by at double quick the Colonel spied a panic-stricken officer
crouching in terror behind the pile.
The Colonel slapped him across the shoulders with his sword:
"What sort of a place is this for you, sir?"
Through chattering teeth came the trembling response:
"W-w-hy, m-my God, do you think the bullets can come through?"
The Colonel threw up his hands in rage and pressed on with his men.
Pages:
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418