Never Call Retreat - Civil War 03 Read Free

only a second's hesitation he reluctantly nodded his head in agreement.
    "Something like that, sir."
    "So what the hell is going on?"
    'They jumped us at our headquarters. Ten of us got out. I sent a few boys down to the river, and in the confusion they were able to see that one bridge was already across and infantry on it. A civilian, reliable, he's been in our pay, told one of my boys that it was Ord's Corps leading the crossing."
    "Do you believe that?"
    "Yes, sir. I caught a glimpse of the bridge as we pulled out."
    "How did you see it in the dark?"
    "It was lined with torches, sir. I could see infantry on it. A long column clear back across the river into Harrisburg."
    How did the Yankees get a bridge across the Susquehanna so quickly? They must have built sections of it upstream and floated them down once it got dark. He suspected that Syms and his boys were truly asleep, from too much drink, if they let that get past them.
    Duvall sighed and looked at Sergeant Billings.
    "Send the following to headquarters: 'Grant started crossing Susquehanna shortly after midnight. Ord's Corps in the lead.'"
    Gunfire outside interrupted his thoughts. He looked up and saw what was left of Sym's detachment galloping onto the parade ground: one trooper leading the horse of a wounded comrade, who was slumped over in the saddle.
    " 'Believe Grant moving down this valley, heading south. Regiment or more of their cavalry about to storm Carlisle. Abandoning this post.' Now send it!"
    Billings worked the key as Duvall went to the window and looked out. The Yankee cavalry were clearly visible on the main pike, deployed to either side of the road, forming a battlefront several hundred yards across. They were coming on cautiously, most likely not sure if this town was. well garrisoned or not. Mounted skirmishers were now advancing less than a quarter mile away.
    Billings finished sending the message, the confirm reply clicking back seconds later.
    "Smash all this equipment, then get mounted," Duvall snapped, and he walked out of the room.
    He reached the ground floor and saw three troopers upending cans of coal oil onto the floor, a sergeant holding a rolled-up newspaper, already striking a match.
    "What the hell are you doing there, Sergeant?"
    "Well, sir, this is Yankee government property, isn't it? Figured you'd want it torched."
    The sergeant was grinning. There was something about arson that seemed to excite most young men, and the wanton destruction of this fine old barracks would be quite a blaze.
    Duvall looked around, the corridor lined with old prints, lithographs of the war in Mexico, a portrait of Lincoln still hanging but the glass on it smashed, a rather scatological comment penciled across his brow. The barracks were a reminder that this was the oldest military post in the United States. It dated back to the French and Indian Wars.
    The newspaper flared. The sergeant looked at him expectantly.
    I grew up a little more than a hundred miles from here, Duvall thought. We were neighbors once, a sister even marrying a fine young man from the theological seminary down at Gettysburg. He had not heard from her in more than a year, not since her husband was killed at Second Manassas, fighting for the Yankees.
    We were neighbors once.
    "Sergeant," Duvall said quietly. "Don't."
    "Sir?"
    "You heard me. Let it be."
    The sergeant looked disappointed.
    "Go out and mount up."
    The sergeant nodded, carrying his flaming torch, tossing it by the doorstep, where it flickered and smoked, his disappointed assistants following. Billings came running down the stairs and out the door behind them.
    Duvall took one last look, walked over to the smoldering paper and crushed it out with his heel, then stepped onto the porch. His command of a hundred men was mounted, many with revolvers drawn, expecting to be ordered to turn out on to the pike and face the Yankees head-on.
    Syms was kneeling over the wounded trooper, shot in the back, lying on his side, blood