In killed, wounded and prisoners he had only lost
thirty-two thousand men in four months. The Confederate losses had been
greater--at least thirty-five thousand.
Hood, the new Southern Commander, had given him battle a month before
and suffered an overwhelming defeat, losing eight thousand men, Sherman
but thirty-seven hundred. The Confederate forces had retired behind the
impregnable fortifications of Atlanta and Sherman lay behind his
trenches watching in grim silence.
The pickets at many places were so close together they could talk. John
Vaughan attempted to slip through at night while they were chaffing one
another.
He lay for an hour in the woods near the Southern picket line watching
his chance. The men were talking continuously.
"Why the devil don't you all fight?" a grey man called.
"Uncle Billy says it's cheaper to flank you and make you Johnnies run to
catch up with us."
"Yes--damn you, and we've got ye now where ye can't do no more flankin'.
Ye got ter fight!"
"Trust Uncle Billy for that when the time comes----"
"Yes, and we've got Billy Sherman whar we want him now. We're goin' to
blow up every bridge behind ye and ye'll never see home no more----"
"Uncle Billy's got duplicates of all your bridges fast as ye blow 'em
up."
"All right, we're goin' ter blow up the tunnels through the
mountains----"
"That's nothin'--we got duplicates to all the tunnels, too!"
John Vaughan began to creep toward the Federal lines and muskets blazed
from both sides.
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