Lew Wallace had
been ordered to the field in post haste. The bridge across Owl Creek,
held by Sherman in the morning, was now in the hands of the
Confederates. Wallace marched and countermarched his army in a vain
effort to reach the field.
At two o'clock Johnston had brought up his reserves and ordered the
entire gray army to charge and sweep the field. His fine face flushed
with victory, he rose in his saddle, addressed a few eloquent words to
Breckinridge's division, placed himself at the head of his army and his
sword flashed in the sunlight as he shouted to the line:
"Charge!"
Dick Welford had been detached from Forrest's cavalry on staff duty by
his Chief's side. Forrest had been marked by Johnston for promotion for
his work at Donelson, and Dick had grown to worship his gallant
Commanding General. He had watched his plan of battle grow with boyish
pride. He knew his Chief was going to crush the two divisions of Grant's
army in detail before they could be united. And he had done it. Such
complete and overwhelming victory would lift the South from her slough
of despair.
With a shout of triumph he spurred his horse neck to neck with his
General.
At two o'clock the blue lines were still rolling back on the river in
hopeless confusion, the gray lines cheering and charging and crushing
without mercy.
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