Sunstar and Pepper by Edna Hoffman Evans

Author:Edna Hoffman Evans
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The University of North Carolina Press
Published: 1947-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

A New Coat for Stonewall Jackson

Five days later the great guns that had flamed across peaceful Antietam Creek and through the town of Sharpsburg were stilled. The battle smoke drifted like a yellow pall across the shell-shattered ridges and cornfields.

Thousands of soldiers in blue and gray lay silent on the field or were sleeping forever along the little farm road known thereafter as the “Bloody Lane.” The Union and Confederate armies had met and pounded each other mercilessly. Now both were exhausted. During the final hours of the terrific battle, men had walked like ghosts through the smoky haze.

Outnumbered, red-eyed from lack of sleep, and drooping with weariness, the gray ranks held firm during the fierce cannonading on the seventeenth of September. Next day they grimly awaited a second Yankee attack.

But McClellan, overcautious as always, failed to follow up his advantage. Except for occasional sharp bickerings along the picket lines, the two armies were motionless.

In the evening General Lee led his army across the Potomac into Virginia and the men gratefully lay down to rest on their own southern soil once more. The Maryland campaign was over.

The battle had been a jumbled nightmare to Pepper. It was strictly a clash between infantry and artillery. The cavalry could do little against the flame-belching cannon of the Union army. Dismounted, Stuart’s troopers had given what help they could to their weary comrades.

Salt and Pepper, with other gray raiders, had served a Parrott gun. Ramrods in hand, blackened by the smoke and grime, the boys had rammed, swabbed, and felt the earth tremble from the concussion so often that they lost all track of time. The unceasing roar had deafened them.

When the gray troops began to withdraw across the Potomac, Stuart’s bugles rang out. His men climbed into their saddles and galloped off to act as a screen for the southern army.

“This is more like it,” Pepper called to Salt as they followed Stuart’s waving plume. “It sure feels good to have Sunstar between my knees again.”

“You bet,” agreed Salt, reaching forward to stroke Thunder’s neck. “No more feeding iron balls to cannon for mine. Give me a live horse every time—there’s darned little that’s affectionate about a steel gun. Reckon I wasn’t cut out to be an artilleryman.”

The troopers followed the bank of the Potomac for several miles. At Shepherdstown they missed the ford and went splashing through the cold water of the river, swimming their horses over the deeper parts of the channel.

“We all need a bath after that battle,” Pepper shouted to his Georgia friend, “but somebody forgot to heat the water.”

“Burrrrr!” shivered Salt. “I’d rather wait and take mine next summer.”

Up stream they galloped, chasing the Federal pickets. For two days the gray troopers tormented the fringes of McClellan’s army, now here, now there, acting as the eyes and ears of Lee’s forces, keeping the Yankees worried, and making sure that the Confederate escape was unchallenged.

Then, their work done, Stuart led his men back across the river to rejoin the main wing of the southern army.

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