A Chain Of Thunder, A Novel Of The Siege Of Vicksburg - 1st Edition/1st Printing

A Chain Of Thunder, A Novel Of The Siege Of Vicksburg - 1st Edition/1st Printing

Language: English

Pages: 0

ISBN: 0345527402

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


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and stuffed into some distant hole. It was not just the fight, not the musket fire or the artillery, or even the nameless men who tumbled out of line. The wounded had called for their mamas, nothing new there, the dead men had stayed dead, collapsing like sacks of meat into the soft green cornstalks. Even now, most of that was already gone, one more fading memory, one more piece of experience. But then … he saw the face of Sergeant Finley. He barely knew the man, the gruff beast of an Irishman,

to hurry back to their homes. Cordray had accompanied his wife in their carriage, the children going as well. But Lucy would remain, her own choice, protecting whatever belongings the Cordrays had brought to their dirt shelter, presumably protecting the shelter itself from an unwanted occupant. That task had been given her by Cordray himself, though he didn’t specify just what she should do if some vagabond decided to move in. Cordray had assured Lucy that their return would be hasty, that his

allowing a man to go shirtless was more acceptable than the cost of replacing uniforms on a daily basis. It was one of those rare pieces of wisdom that surprised even the officers. But now the shovels were gone. On the march, the uniforms were regulation, muskets on shoulders, bedrolls wrapped across one shoulder. The canteens had been filled with what Bauer could only hope was water cleaner than what flowed past him in the river. It had been a miserable lesson learned in southern Tennessee,

slaves, not even a maid to care for Lucy as a baby. She had clung most strongly to the reunions, when her father would return home, joy and hugs and laughter. But as Lucy grew, and her mother lost strength, the joy faded. With Lucy more able to care for her mother, her father’s journeys lasted even longer. When the war began, he seemed to welcome the necessity of traveling, often for many weeks, and though he spoke of hardship, the people growing poor, she knew from the look in his eye that he

shot in the company. Bauer also knew: He wasn’t too bad himself. The wagon lurched forward, the mule nodding its head with each step as it drew the wagon through softer sand. They were moving uphill now, harder ground, and Bauer saw what must have been the first of the farmhouses, a blackened mound punctuated by skeletal remains of timber. Smoke still rose from the wreckage, the breeze carrying the stink of burnt wood and anything else the house contained. Beside him, Finley said, “Bet some

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