riflemen, and he saw the mass of men coming. “Look at that, Pa!” he said, forgetting again to use his father’s military title. “I didn’t think anybody would charge across open ground against riflemen like that.”
“It’s a mistake,” the colonel said quietly. “We made the same mistake at Gettysburg, and now it looks like it’s the Union’s turn.”
Jeff watched the troops come on and on and on.
His father cried out, “Fire!” and a sheet of flame literally wiped out the first wave of Federal troops. It sickened Jeff to see men falling in the dust.
His father put an arm around him. “It’s too bad you have to see this, Jeff.”
Again and again General Grant sent his troops forward, but the Confederates held fast. The field was full of dying and wounded before he finally called an end.
“We’ll have to take Richmond by siege,” Grant said. “We can never attack it head-on again.” Later on, after the war, he was to say, “The only thing I ever did that I regret during the whole war was to order the charge at Cold Harbor.”
Jeff was on the line when the last charge was made. When he saw the Yankees driven back, he breathed, “I just hope they don’t come back again.”
At that moment, he heard his name called.
“What is it, Tom?”
Tom was hurrying toward him. “It’s Pa. He’s been shot! I’ve got to get him back to the hospital in Richmond.”
“Not the field hospital?”
“No, they told me to take him to Chimborazo.”
Chimborazo was the largest Confederate hospital. It was overcrowded but was still the best place that existed in the Confederacy for a wounded man.
“I’ll go with you.”
“No, you can’t do that,” Tom said. “You’ll have to stay here with the rest of your squad. Pa said that much.”
“I’ve got to see him!”
“Come on, then. We’re taking him back right away.”
Jeff followed Tom—who limped along, his artificial leg appearing to give him considerable pain— and found his father lying beside an ambulancewagon. The colonel’s gray uniform was red with blood. The sight frightened Jeff, and he knelt beside him. “Pa, you’re not going to die, are you?”
“No, I’m too tough a bird for that,” Colonel Majors gasped. “I wish you could go with me, Jeff, but you’ll have to stay. General Lee needs every man he can get, and I guess you’ll have to be a man before your time.”
“Sure, Pa.” Jeff swallowed hard. “I wish I could go with you too, but I’ll do like you say.”
Carefully Jeff and Tom, assisted by the attendants, put their father in the ambulance with other wounded soldiers. Tom got into the ambulance with him, and Jeff stood at the back of the wagon. “Good-bye, Pa.”
“I’ll be praying for you, Jeff … God’s going to … take care of both of us.”
“Sure, Pa.” Jeff reached into the ambulance, took his father’s hand, and squeezed it hard. Then the curtains closed, the horses stepped out, and the ambulance rolled off in the direction of Richmond.
Jeff turned back to the lines, his heart filled with grief.
What will happen if Pa dies?
was the thought that was in his heart.
When the ambulance drew up in front of a low building—one of many dozens—Tom Majors got down stiffly. His leg was hurting him. He said to the driver and the helper, “I’ll go inside and find a place. You get him out of the wagon and put him on a stretcher.”
As he entered the hospital, he was shocked to see that it was packed with wounded. Even the halls and the entrance room had men lying alongside the walls. Some of them looked to be dead, and Tom’sheart failed him as he saw there would be little hope for his father here.
He pushed his way to a desk where a man in civilian clothes was trying to give orders to a dozen people at once. They all appeared to be trying to get their people into better care.
“I’ve got to get my father in. He’s Colonel Nelson Majors.”
The small man stared at him. “Just bring him on
“It’s a mistake,” the colonel said quietly. “We made the same mistake at Gettysburg, and now it looks like it’s the Union’s turn.”
Jeff watched the troops come on and on and on.
His father cried out, “Fire!” and a sheet of flame literally wiped out the first wave of Federal troops. It sickened Jeff to see men falling in the dust.
His father put an arm around him. “It’s too bad you have to see this, Jeff.”
Again and again General Grant sent his troops forward, but the Confederates held fast. The field was full of dying and wounded before he finally called an end.
“We’ll have to take Richmond by siege,” Grant said. “We can never attack it head-on again.” Later on, after the war, he was to say, “The only thing I ever did that I regret during the whole war was to order the charge at Cold Harbor.”
Jeff was on the line when the last charge was made. When he saw the Yankees driven back, he breathed, “I just hope they don’t come back again.”
At that moment, he heard his name called.
“What is it, Tom?”
Tom was hurrying toward him. “It’s Pa. He’s been shot! I’ve got to get him back to the hospital in Richmond.”
“Not the field hospital?”
“No, they told me to take him to Chimborazo.”
Chimborazo was the largest Confederate hospital. It was overcrowded but was still the best place that existed in the Confederacy for a wounded man.
“I’ll go with you.”
“No, you can’t do that,” Tom said. “You’ll have to stay here with the rest of your squad. Pa said that much.”
“I’ve got to see him!”
“Come on, then. We’re taking him back right away.”
Jeff followed Tom—who limped along, his artificial leg appearing to give him considerable pain— and found his father lying beside an ambulancewagon. The colonel’s gray uniform was red with blood. The sight frightened Jeff, and he knelt beside him. “Pa, you’re not going to die, are you?”
“No, I’m too tough a bird for that,” Colonel Majors gasped. “I wish you could go with me, Jeff, but you’ll have to stay. General Lee needs every man he can get, and I guess you’ll have to be a man before your time.”
“Sure, Pa.” Jeff swallowed hard. “I wish I could go with you too, but I’ll do like you say.”
Carefully Jeff and Tom, assisted by the attendants, put their father in the ambulance with other wounded soldiers. Tom got into the ambulance with him, and Jeff stood at the back of the wagon. “Good-bye, Pa.”
“I’ll be praying for you, Jeff … God’s going to … take care of both of us.”
“Sure, Pa.” Jeff reached into the ambulance, took his father’s hand, and squeezed it hard. Then the curtains closed, the horses stepped out, and the ambulance rolled off in the direction of Richmond.
Jeff turned back to the lines, his heart filled with grief.
What will happen if Pa dies?
was the thought that was in his heart.
When the ambulance drew up in front of a low building—one of many dozens—Tom Majors got down stiffly. His leg was hurting him. He said to the driver and the helper, “I’ll go inside and find a place. You get him out of the wagon and put him on a stretcher.”
As he entered the hospital, he was shocked to see that it was packed with wounded. Even the halls and the entrance room had men lying alongside the walls. Some of them looked to be dead, and Tom’sheart failed him as he saw there would be little hope for his father here.
He pushed his way to a desk where a man in civilian clothes was trying to give orders to a dozen people at once. They all appeared to be trying to get their people into better care.
“I’ve got to get my father in. He’s Colonel Nelson Majors.”
The small man stared at him. “Just bring him on
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