飘-第74节
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the hills； came upon them； the Southern troops were waiting for them； entrenched behind breastworks； batteries planted； bayonets gleaming； even as they had been at Dalton。
When the wounded from Dalton brought in garbled accounts of Old Joe’s retreat to Resaca； Atlanta was surprised and a little disturbed。 It was as though a small； dark cloud had appeared in the northwest； the first cloud of a summer storm。 What was the General thinking about； letting the Yankees penetrate eighteen miles farther into Georgia？ The mountains were natural fortresses； even as Dr。 Meade had said。 Why hadn’t Old Joe held the Yankees there？
Johnston fought desperately at Resaca and repulsed the Yankees again； but Sherman； employing the same flanking movement； swung his vast army in another semicircle； crossed the Oostanaula River and again struck at the railroad in the Confederate rear。 Again the gray lines were summoned swiftly from their red ditches to defend the railroad； and； weary for sleep； exhausted from marching and fighting； and hungry； always hungry； they made another rapid march down the valley。 They reached the little town of Calhoun； six miles below Resaca； ahead of the Yankees； entrenched and were again ready for the attack when the Yankees came up。 The attack came； there was fierce skirmishing and the Yankees were beaten back。 Wearily the Confederates lay on their arms and prayed for respite and rest。 But there was no rest。 Sherman inexorably advanced； step by step； swinging his army about them in a wide curve； forcing another retreat to defend the railroad at their back。
The Confederates marched in their sleep； too tired to think for the most part But when they did think； they trusted Old Joe。 They knew they were retreating but they knew they had not been beaten。 They just didn’t have enough men to hold their entrenchments and defeat Sherman’s flanking movements； too。 They could and did lick the Yankees every time the Yankees would stand and fight What would be the end of this retreat； they did not know。 But Old Joe knew what he was doing and that was enough for them。 He had conducted the retreat in masterly fashion； for they had lost few men and the Yankees killed and captured ran high。 They hadn’t lost a single wagon and only four guns。 And they hadn’t lost the railroad at their back； either。 Sherman hadn’t laid a finger on it for all his frontal attacks； cavalry dashes and flank movements。
The railroad。 It was still theirs； that slender iron line winding through the sunny valley toward Atlanta。 Men lay down to sleep where they could see the rails gleaming faintly in the starlight。 Men lay down to die； and the last sight that met their puzzled eyes was the rails shining in the merciless sun； heat shimmering along them。
As they fell back down the valley； an army of refugees fell back before them。 Planters and Crackers； rich and poor； black and white； women and children； the old； the dying； the crippled； the wounded； the women far gone in pregnancy； crowded the road to Atlanta on trains； afoot； on horseback； in carriages and wagons piled high with trunks and household goods。 Five miles ahead of the retreating army went the refugees； halting at Resaca； at Calhoun； at Kingston； hoping at each stop to hear that the Yankees had been driven back so they could return to their homes。 But there was no retracing that sunny road。 The gray troops passed by empty mansions； deserted farms； lonely cabins with doors ajar。 Here and there some lone woman remained with a few frightened slaves； and they came to the road to cheer the soldiers； to bring buckets of well water for the thirsty men； to bind up the wounds and bury the dead in their own family burying grounds。 But for the most part the sunny valley was abandoned and desolate and the untended crops stood in parching fields。
Flanked again at Calhoun； Johnston fell back to Adairsville； where there was sharp skirmishing； then to Cassville； then south of Cartersville。 And the enemy had now advanced fifty…five miles from Dalton。 At New Hope Church； fifteen miles farther along the hotly fought way； the gray ranks dug in for a determined stand。 On came the blue lines； relentlessly； like a monster serpent coiling； striking venomously； drawing its injured lengths back； but always striking again。 There was desperate fighting at New Hope Church； eleven days of continuous fighting； with every Yankee assault bloodily repulsed。 Then Johnston； flanked again； withdrew his thinning lines a few miles farther。
The Confederate dead and wounded at New Hope Church ran high。 The wounded flooded Atlanta in train…loads and the town was appalled。 Never； even after the battle of Chickamauga； had the town seen so many wounded。 The hospitals overflowed and wounded lay on the floors of empty stores and upon cotton bales in the warehouses。 Every hotel； boarding house and private residence was crowded with sufferers。 Aunt Pitty had her share； although she protested that it was most unbecoming to have strange men in the house when Melanie was in a delicate condition and when gruesome sights might bring on premature birth。 But Melanie reefed up her top hoop a little higher to hide her thickening figure and the wounded invaded the brick house。 There was endless cooking and lifting and turning and fanning； endless hours of washing and rerolling bandages and picking lint； and endless warm nights made sleepless by the babbling delirium of men in the next room。 Finally the choked town could take care of no more and the overflow of wounded was sent on to the hospitals at Macon and Augusta。
With this backwash of wounded bearing conflicting reports and the increase of frightened refugees crowding into the already crowded town； Atlanta was in an uproar。 The small cloud on the horizon had blown up swiftly into a large； sullen storm cloud and it was as though a faint； chilling wind blew from it。
No one had lost faith in the invincibility of the troops but everyone； the civilians at least； had lost faith in the General。 New Hope Church was only thirty…five miles from Atlanta！ The General had let the Yankees push him back sixty…five miles in three weeks！ Why didn’t he hold the Yankees instead of everlastingly retreating？ He was a fool and worse than a fool。 Graybeards in the Home Guard and members of the state militia； safe in Atlanta； insisted they could have managed the campaign better and drew maps on tablecloths to prove their contentions。 As his lines grew thinner and he was forced back farther； the General called desperately on Governor Brown for these very men； but the state troops felt reasonably safe。 After all； the Governor had defied Jeff Davis’ demand for them。 Why should he accede to General Johnston？
Fight and fall back！ Fight and fall back！ For seventy miles and twenty…five days the Confederates had fought almost daily。 New Hope Church was behind the gray troops now； a memory in a mad haze of like memories； heat； dust； hunger； weariness； tramp…tramp on the red rutted roads； slop…slop through the red mud； retreat； entrench； fight—retreat； entrench； fight。 New Hope Church was a nightmare of another life and so was Big Shanty； where they turned and fought the Yankees like demons。 But； fight the Yankees till the fields were blue with dead； there were always more Yankees； fresh Yankees； there was always that sinister southeast curving of the blue lines toward the Confederate rear； toward the railroad—and toward Atlanta！
From Big Shanty； the weary sleepless lines retreated down the road to Kennesaw Mountain； near the little town of Marietta； and here they spread their lines in a ten…mile curve。 On the steep sides of the mountain they dug their rifle pits and on the towering heights they planted their batteries。 Swearing； sweating men hauled the heavy guns up the precipitous slopes； for mules could not climb the hillsides。 Couriers and wounded coming into Atlanta gave reassuring reports to the frightened townspeople。 The heights of Kennesaw were impregnable。 So were Pine Mountain and Lost Mountain near by which were also fortified。 The Yankees couldn’t dislodge Old Joe’s men and they could hardly flank them now for the batteries on the mountain tops commanded all the roads for miles。 Atlanta breathed more easily； but—
But Kennesaw Mountain was only twenty…two miles away！
On the day when the first wounded from Kennesaw Mountain were coming in； Mrs。 Merriwether’s carriage was at Aunt Pitty’s house at the unheard…of hour of seven in the morning； and black Uncle Levi sent up word that Scarlett must dress immediately and come to the hospital。 Fanny Rising and the Bonnell girls； roused early from slumber； were yawning on the back seat and the Risings’ mammy sat grumpily on the box； a basket of freshly laundered bandages on her lap。 Off Scarlett went； unwillingly for she had danced till dawn the night before at the Home Guard’s party and her feet were tired。 She silently cursed the efficient and indefatigable Mrs。 Merriwether； the wounded and the whole Southern Confederacy； as Prissy buttoned her in her oldest and raggedest calico frock which she used for hospital work。 Gulping down the bitter brew of parched corn and dried sweet potatoes that passed for coffee； she went out to join the girls。
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