Fire Over Atlanta Read Online Free PDF Page A

muzzles of the distant cannons looked ominous and black. Royal’s mouth was dry, and he was already thirsty. Down the line from him, a private gasped, clutched his stomach, and fell.
    “Can’t stop for him!” Lieutenant Logan said. “Keep going forward! We can’t ever stop, or they’ll pin us down!”
    As Royal moved on, he imagined an evil face painted on each shell. When they exploded, even the sound was like demonic laughter screaming across the sky. More men were falling now, some silently, others crying out for their mothers.
    Finally the lieutenant shouted, “Take cover! We can’t stand this fire! I’ll send for reinforcements!”
    The men fell behind whatever shelter was available. Royal gratefully found an old tree and dropped alongside Walter Beddows. The two men loaded and fired as rapidly as possible. Smoke quickly beclouded the area in front of them, but he could still see fleeting forms of the gray-clad enemy moving back and forth through the haze.
    “Can’t stand much of this!” Walter gasped. He took a swallow of water from his canteen. “I saw Corporal Dobson go down back there. Shot right through the head.”
    “We’re losing too many men,” Royal said. “Attacking was a mistake. They’re too strong up there.”
    “How do they expect us to charge against in-place guns?” Drake complained. He rammed a slug home, primed his muzzle, looked around his tree, aimed, and fired, then began rapidly loading again. “They can blast away with those cannons and kill us all! Where’s our artillery support?”
    “Don’t know,” Rosie said.
    Royal noticed that Rosie was firing as rapidly as he could, apparently having forgotten his imaginary illnesses.
    Then Lieutenant Logan came stumbling down the line. “Retreat!” he yelled. “Retreat! Carry the wounded if you can. Don’t run! Go back a few yards, stop, fire! Make it an orderly retreat, and we’ll be all right!”
    Royal looked around at his squad. “All right!” he called. “All of you go on back! I’ll cover your retreat!”
    Walter placed a wounded private on his shoulders, then said, “Don’t wait too long, Royal. I’d hate to see you wind up in a prison camp.”
    “I’ll be all right. Get that soldier to the doctor.”
    Royal retreated more slowly. He saw that the Confederates were pursuing but with caution. And then he was suddenly surprised to see Drake beside him. “What are you doing still here, Drake?”
    Drake’s mouth was black from gunpowder where he had bitten the cartridges. He pounded a minié ball down into his musket muzzle and grinned. “Somebody’s got to take care of you, sergeant.”
    A wave of warmth came over Royal. He and Drake had had their troubles, but now, in the heatof battle, the two were forged as one. “I appreciate it,” he said, “but now let’s get out of—”
    “What is it?” Drake said.
    “Look, there’s one of our fellas over there. I think it’s Hotchkiss.”
    “Wait a minute!” Drake said. “You can’t go after him. They’ll get you sure, Royal.”
    “Maybe the smoke’s thick enough. You cover me. I’ll get Hotchkiss. It won’t take but a minute.”
    Before Drake could argue any longer, Royal leaped to his feet and ran, leaving his rifle, crouching low. From time to time he heard the whine of a minié ball.
An ugly sound
, he thought. Some balls slammed into trees, and he knew that if one hit him, he was a dead man. But then he reached the wounded soldier, who was struggling to get up.
    “Sergeant!” Hotchkiss said. He was a young, fair-haired boy. Royal knew he was only seventeen.
    “I’ve got you, Dale. I’ll get you out of here.”
    Royal bent over, thankful for his strength. He pulled Hotchkiss to a sitting position, then positioned him over his shoulder and straightened up. “Now we’ll be—”
    “Hold it right there, blue belly!”
    Royal froze. A Confederate had suddenly materialized out of the smoke. His musket was leveled at his shoulder, and the muzzle