Battle Cry of Freedom by Jack Martin

Author:Jack Martin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Autoset from 'Battle Cry BODY Styled for AeS.indd'
by 'Melanie' on 17/10/2022 at 12:53
Content may have been edited since
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2022-10-26T18:11:41+00:00

Chapter 6

“… I’ll hurl the rebel crew from the land we love the best …”

The revolver slipped from Clay’s fingers and thudded softly on the dirt floor. Ignoring the moans of the injured man on the table, ignoring Major Price’s corpse, Clay staggered three steps forward and dropped heavily to his knees next to Lot’s silent form. Tenderly he gathered the black sergeant into his arms and began rocking slowly back and forth. After a moment, a low, keening sound began to issue from his throat, a sound unlike any that the witnesses to the scene had ever heard. Periodically, it would drop to impossible depths, reverberating like the lowest notes of a cathedral’s organ and then ascending multiple octaves to a sound so high it almost faded away. The survivors in the tent hardly knew how to respond and were frozen in place until a flap was thrown back and Lieutenant Bierce entered cheerfully whistling a snatch of “The Yellow Rose of Texas,” bringing a whiff of cheap whiskey with him. He took in the scene, froze for a moment, then blurting an obscenity, rushed to Clay’s side.

“Clay! Clay! What has happened here?” He shook the captain’s shoulder but received no response. Bierce examined Clay’s face carefully but saw only a horrifying blank expression, from the mouth of which issued the inhuman sounds of grief. Bierce turned his attention to the motionless Lot. To his own surprise, he found his eyes filling with tears.

Working gently around Clay’s cradling arms, he examined the bleeding wound at the back of Lot’s head, then placed two fingers to the sergeant’s neck. Bierce started, then began to speak to Clay like a small child. “Clay, Jeremiah is alive. His pulse is strong. Clay, do you hear me? Clay, we need you to let him go, so the surgeon here can examine his injuries. Clay. Listen to me, Clay.”

Slowly Clay turned his head to Bierce and seemed to notice him for the first time. “Alive. Are you certain? Alive?”

“At least for the time being. Come on Clay, I need you to be strong. Help me move him to the unoccupied cot.”

Clay slowly shook his head as if confused by something. Then, taking a deep breath, he said, “Of course. I’ll take the legs, you the arms.” With extreme gentleness, they moved Lot past the table holding the moaning soldier to the unoccupied table beyond, stepping gingerly over the body of Dallas Price. The surgeon of the 27th Ohio rushed over and began to efficiently examine the wound.

“Doctor, what happened here?” asked Clay quietly.

The surgeon’s voice quavered, but his fingers were swift and assured. “It happened so quickly, I can hardly say, Captain. Just as we were preparing a poor soul for an amputation, a large lieutenant came in with two cavalrymen, saying he heard someone named Captain Larson was here and that he was needed at Burnside’s headquarters.”

“I’m Larson,” said the former sniper. “A large, handsome feller with a cheerful way about him?”

“That’s the one, sir.

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