Fighting Joe; Or, The Fortunes of a Staff Officer. A Story of the Great Rebellion

by Oliver Optic

“Good night, Major Riggleston,” said Somers, as he put spurs to his steed, and dashed down the hill, leaving his companion to infer what he meant from his connection with the lady, if he needed anything to enable him to explain the nature of the charge.

The staff officer was excited and indignant that the traitor should attempt such a bold and foolish subterfuge. It was almost incredible that he should have the audacity to pretend that he did not know what the charge meant. There was no room for a doubt or a mistake. The major had positively received the blank letter; had positively gone after the rebel cavalry; had positively sustained Maud in her attempt to capture him. It was not possible, therefore, that he had done the culprit any injustice.

Thus assured that he had not wronged the major, Captain Somers again turned his attention to the message which he was to deliver to his general, and urged forward his weary horse at his best speed. He found the troops of “Fighting Joe” resting from the hard-fought action, and engaged in preparing their simple supper of coffee and “hard tack.” He delivered the orders of the commanding general, and the division of Richardson was accordingly sent forward to pursue the fleeing rebels.

Early on the following morning the army advanced, and Somers found no time to think of private grievances. The general did much of his own reconnoitring on this occasion, though the members of his staff were kept constantly employed. The enemy had fallen back in disorder from South Mountain; but at ten o’clock in the forenoon the advance of the first corps came up with the position which the rebels had taken, to dispute the farther progress of the now victorious army. But the general had not at this time a sufficient force to make an attack. Antietam Creek lay between the two armies; and the bridge over it at this point was protected by the batteries which the rebels had planted to defend it.

The enemy, in two lines on the west side of the creek, were believed to consist of fifty thousand men; and the brave general impatiently awaited the arrival of the rest of the corps. It looked like an opportunity to fight a successful battle, and he was determined to cross the stream at the first practicable moment.

“General, the enemy are breaking into column and marching towards Williamsport,” said Somers, as he rode up from the point at which he had been surveying the movement on the other side of the creek.

“They are on the retreat, then,” replied the general.

Captain Somers and an officer of the engineers were then sent to examine the creek in search of a ford by which to transfer the troops to the other side as soon as the force of the rebels should be sufficiently reduced to justify an attack. The general chafed under the restraint which the circumstances imposed upon him; but he was too prudent to risk an attack while the advantage was so strongly against him. A ford was found near a mill, farther up the creek, and the officers reported the fact; but the arrival of the commanding general at this time prevented “Fighting Joe” from ordering an advance.

The corps remained at this place until the afternoon of the next day, when orders came to cross the creek. The troops proceeded up the stream, and went over by a bridge and by the fords which had been examined by the staff officers. The outposts of the enemy were soon discovered and driven in, and the gallant corps continued to push the force in front till it was too dark to proceed any farther, at which time the resistance was fully equal to the power of the advancing host. This was the night before the great battle of Antietam.

The weary troops lay down to rest in the cornfields where they had halted. The rebels were close by, and the pickets of the two armies were within gunshot range of each other. There was no rest yet for the general and his staff; for it was evident that a great battle was to be fought on the morrow—a battle on which the destinies of the Union depended. If the grand army of the Potomac was defeated, there would be nothing to stay the march of the invaders. The fair fields and the prosperous cities and towns of the North would then be open to them. The great heart of the nation, beating timidly as the rebel hordes advanced, sickened by previous disasters, might sink into despondency, and the bright hopes of a great people be forever crushed. It was no time for the brain of the army to slumber.