Hell or Richmond by Ralph Peters

Author:Ralph Peters
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: General Fiction
ISBN: 9780765330482
Publisher: Forge
Published: 2013-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

Two thirty p.m.

Along the Shady Grove Church Road

“Brooke, can you hold?” Barlow asked.

Bullets from Rebel skirmishers hunted men in blue.

“I can hold them,” the colonel shouted back. “Don’t know how long, though. Prisoner claims Heth’s entire division’s out there.”

And Mahone’s division sat just across the south bank of the Po, ready to pounce. Outnumbered as much as four to one along his forward line, Barlow intended to draw blood as he withdrew.

“I need you to hold for a quarter hour, at least,” Barlow told the brigade commander. “Give Smyth and Miles time to entrench at the bridgehead.”

He was fighting with only two brigades up, Brooke’s men and Paul Frank’s lot.

As the racket increased, Brooke pulled his horse close to Barlow’s. “I can do that, a quarter of an hour. Maybe longer. If Frank holds.” The colonel looked doubtful about the prospect of that.

“I’m on my way to the right to have a look. Just hold them, John.”

They had beaten off the Reb skirmishers handily. But great gray waves would break over them soon.

Artillery rounds shrieked overhead, Union guns firing blindly from north of the river.

Before Barlow could put the spurs to his stallion, Hancock rode up. Barlow had been furious about the botched operation the evening before, then about being left as the rear guard again. But Hancock had returned to fight beside him, after withdrawing the rest of the corps to safety. Courage canceled many another sin.

No one saluted. The Rebs were too close.

Hancock nodded to Barlow, then to Brooke. “Looks like you drew the short straw, John.”

“Made sense, sir,” Brooke replied. “Given our dispositions.”

Barlow caught the note of criticism. Hancock had left the division spread out to cover what had been the corps’ front that morning. Even entrenched, the defense was as thin as Japan paper.

Hancock turned to Barlow. “Miles and Smyth have closed at the bridgehead. And all of the guns are across, except for Arnold’s.” His eyes shifted back to Brooke. “The pontoons are secure, they’ll be there when you need them.”

“First, I’ll have to get to them,” Brooke said.

Barlow beat down a smile. Brooke was no toady.

And the colonel had a right to be disgruntled. Once Brooke abandoned these entrenchments and passed through the grove to his rear, there remained a half mile of open ground between his men and the paths down to the bridges. All the way, they’d be under artillery fire. Withdrawing was going to be tricky, to say the least. And Paul Frank, his weakest colonel, would have even farther to go than would John Brooke.

That morning, as the corps withdrawal began, Hancock had explained Grant’s decision to leave Barlow in place as long as possible to deter Lee from shifting forces away from his left. The rationale was little consolation. The wait thereafter had been grim, until George Meade, bless him and all Philadelphia, had sent down orders to withdraw the division.

It looked as though he had waited an hour too long.

As for Hancock, Barlow was glad of his presence now, despite his taste for independent action.

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