“No,” said Colonel Winchester, “nor have we won a victory, but we're saved. Thank God for the night!”
“They'll attack again to-morrow, sir,” said Sergeant Whitley.
“Undoubtedly so,” said Colonel Winchester, who felt at this moment not as if he were speaking as colonel to sergeant, but as man to man, “and I hope that our artillery will be ready again. It is what has saved us. We have always been superior in that arm.”
The colonel had spoken the truth, and the fact was also recognized by Rosecrans, Thomas and the other generals. While they rectified their lines in the darkness, the great batteries were posted in good positions, and fresh gunners took the place of those who had been killed. Both Rosecrans and Thomas were made of stern stuff. Afraid of no enemy, and, despite their great losses of the day and the fact that they had been driven back, they would be ready to fight on the morrow. Sheridan, Crittenden, McCook, Van Cleve and the others were equally ready.
Food was brought from the rear and the exhausted combatants sank down to rest. Dick was in such an apathy from sheer overtasking of the body and spirit that he did not think of anything. He lay like an animal that has escaped from a long chase. Silence had settled down with the darkness and the Confederate army had become invisible.
Dick revived later. He talked more freely with those about him, and he gathered from the gossip which travels fast, much of what had happened. The Union army, so confident in the morning, was in a dangerous position at night. Nearly thirty of its guns were taken. Three thousand unwounded and many wounded men were prisoners in the hands of the South. Arms and ammunition by the wholesale had been captured. The Southern cavalry under Fighting Joe Wheeler had gone behind Rosecrans' whole army and had cut his communications with his base at Nashville, at the same time raiding his wagon trains. Another body of cavalry under Wharton had taken all the wagons of McCook's corps, and still a third under Pegram had captured many prisoners on the Nashville road in the rear of the Northern army.
Dick became aware of a great, an intense anxiety among the leaders. The army was isolated. The raiding Southern cavalry kept it from receiving fresh supplies of either food or ammunition, unless it retreated.
“We're stripped of everything but our arms,” said Warner.
“Then we've really lost nothing,” said the valiant Pennington, “because with our arms we'll recover everything.”
They had a commander of like spirit. At that moment Rosecrans, gathering his generals in a tent pitched hastily for him, was saying to them, “Gentlemen, we will conquer or die here.” Short and strong, but every word meant. There was no need to say more. The generals animated by the same spirit went forth to their commands, and first among them was the grim and silent Thomas, who had the bulldog grip of Grant. Perhaps it was this indomitable tenacity and resolution that made the Northern generals so much more successful in the west than they were in the east during the early years of the war.