Gettysburg by Gene Ingram

Author:Gene Ingram [Ingram, Gene]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-7414-7007-2
Publisher: Infinity Publishing
Published: 2009-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

12:15 a.m. Thursday, July 2, 1863

Rock Creek, Below Upper Culp’s Hill

Logan walked to the end of the battalion’s picket line shaking each man’s hand and telling them they’d done well. By the time he arrived back at the center of the line they heard the rustle of men coming down the hill. Ross went out with a lantern and led them in. Logan briefed Wiggers and gave him orders for the night.

Ross led out. They marched single-file south and west across the saddle and back up North Culp the way they had eighteen hours before. As they arrived at their works, each man fell exhausted into his piece of the breastwork.

Logan saw them all in and gratefully took the hot coffee Cornelius James handed him. Logan had the sleepy Corporal Lee take his dictation outlining the action at the creek. Following Logan’s direction, Lee used carbon paper so they had a copy for the battalion records.

Logan walked up the line to the 7th Indiana headquarters tent where he made his report to a sad-looking Major Wolf. The major’s clerk wrote down his disciplinary report on Logan. Wolf said he would read it to him in the morning and discuss it with the colonel at that time.

Logan walked back to the big rocks where James had his bedroll made up in the cleft of the rock. He stood for a moment and looked into a sky now freely sprinkled with stars. “Thank you, Lord,” he whispered, “for saving us. Please bless the wounded and dying.” He then crawled onto his pallet and went to sleep.

Three hours later James shook Logan’s foot to wake him from his exhausted sleep.

“You’re wanted by Major Wolf at the 7th Indiana Headquarters right away,” James said.

Logan responded by sliding out from under their rocky ledge. He turned his boots upside down and tapped each one on the rock making sure they weren’t housing some kind of stinging insect or biting varmint. James handed him his freshly brushed coat which now contained two small embroidered gold bars on each shoulder. Major Wolf had insisted on it.

“Sorry sir, no coffee this morning. Didn’t have time,” James said apologetically.

The light of day was chasing away the darkness but the sun had not yet appeared through the trees. Putting on the coat, Logan brushed the dust off his pants and walked up to meet Wolf. Headquarters was a stir of activity as half a dozen officers buzzed about looking at maps and reading orders. Wolf signaled him into a corner where he sat at a desk piled with papers.

“Meade has finally given us some help,” he said. “Brigadier General George Greene’s Brigade of New Yorkers is relieving the 7th Indiana with a whole brigade. I’m detaching your battalion to the General whose aide de camp will have orders for you.

Wolf stood and handed him the paper-work. Then he motioned to an intelligent looking, dapper major who appeared to be in his mid-twenties. The man immediately came to stand next to Logan.

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