Mississippi DEAD by Weaver Shawn

Author:Weaver, Shawn [Weaver, Shawn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-12-30T13:00:00+00:00

Available US:

http://www.amazon.com/Little-Valley-ebook/dp/B006S2VB7K/ref=la_B0039B3OW8_1_5_title_1_kin?ie=UTF8&qid=1355512064&sr=1-5

Available UK:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Little-Valley-ebook/dp/B006S2VB7K/ref=la_B0039B3OW8_1_4_title_1_kin?ie=UTF8&qid=1355512599&sr=1-4

Wolves in Springfield

CHAPTER ONE

Johnathan Burrows looked up through the trees at the moon that still hung full in the daylight sky. Its large, light grey shape gave him a chilling feeling that sunk deeper into his bones than the cold water currently filling his boots. And though it had been morning for hours, the bright sun did not give off the much needed heat that the shivering band of ragged men needed as they sloshed through the sunken stream between two overgrown hills.

“Hold up,” Corporal Mathew Talls said from the front of the line. Motioning for the troop to stop, he bent an arm outward at the elbow, and closed his fist tight.

The remaining few of the Twenty Third Illinois regiment, widely known in the Union as the Irish Brigade, gladly did so. The last weeks had been hard on the men with spoiled food, mosquitoes and dysentery running rampant with them.

May fourth, after the battle of Chancellorsville, found the men confused, tired and lost. The regiment had been shattered, its men scattered along Bank’s Ford, Virginia after the onslaught of the Confederates. In their retreat, Johnathan Burrows and six other men found themselves lost behind enemy lines.

By now all of them were reported missing and, more than likely, presumed dead by their commanders. But none of them wanted to see that end. They all had families back in Illinois and every one of them wanted nothing more than to break through the Confederate lines and get back to the lives they had left behind before the war began.

Johnathan's feet hurt like hell from the hole worn though the sole of his left boot, letting in everything from the stream to every thorn on God’s green earth. Fortunately the Lord had blessed him with only that. He hadn’t gotten the runs, and his meager rations were still edible for the most part, though the few pieces of hardtack he had left were just that — hard. Even soaking them did no good.

Since separating from the rest of their division, the small band had run into nothing but trouble. Skirmishes had sprouted up here and there. Even the local people of Northern Virginia were a dangerous commodity. Families protecting their homes and what little they had left had made it difficult. Johnathan couldn’t blame any of them. They all had their beliefs, and who wouldn’t take a shot at armed strangers who trespassed on their property?

Not admitting at any time that they were lost, Corporal Talls led the men on. Raised in the woods around Springfield, Corporal Talls thought he knew his directions by the position of the sun and the moss growing on the trees. And even if they were going in the wrong direction, the small band moved at a quick pace.

“Sir,” Johnathan Burrows said, pulling his boot out of sucking black mud.

“Yes, Private?”

“How much longer, sir?”

Corporal Talls looked up the hills and into the trees. He caught a waft of smoke floating on the air just a few hundred yards away.

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