Storymania - The Colonel by Dustin Rhodes

The Colonel
Dustin Rhodes

December 13th, 1862
Joseph Crane was up. Cannon, lots of it too. He rubbed his eyes and looked at his pocket watch, 6:00 A.M. He put on his trousers and frock coat, pulled on his new boots and put on the kepi with the gold braiding, simple attire really. He walked outside of his wall tent, now the Napoleon guns were opening up. Were the Federals advancing? He wiped his glasses off, already fogging up in the hazy December morning. Something about the forest they were in was peacefully quiet even though the booming of the big guns was awakening the entire regiment. Crane’s superior, General Hollingsworth, had placed them in this position several days ago. They had arrived in these woods with the rest of Jackson’s corps. Crane had heard Burnside was in command of the blue bellies. Fools, all of them, he thought. They had not one decent General in their whole army, but we had the old man. Crane looked much older than his age of twenty eight. Two years of hard fighting had taken their toll. The ol’ 53rd had been involved in every major engagement in the east, from Manassas to Antietam. He had helped organize the 53rd North Carolina Troops. He knew every man, as they all came from Pender County. He had started out as the Captain of company G; now he commanded the whole regiment. Here came Lieutenant Penn, the aide. He was Crane’s cousin. Seemed to Crane they were more of one big family than a unit of fighting men. Penn smiled that same old annoying smile he always did when action was close. It secretly felt good to Crane that the boys were in such high spirits. “Mornin’ Colonel, seems the fighting has begun. Ain’t it a lovely day though? Right cold, too. Well, shall I get the boys waked up sir?” Penn said.
Crane thought hard for a moment. “Yes Lieutenant. Commence with reveille, and then have the troops eat their morning meal. Also, relieve the pickets in front of us and send out a new line. Alert me immediately if General Hollingsworth arrives. Oh and get yourself something to eat Penn. You look awful,” said Crane.
Penn smiled at the breakfast tent and saluted. With another quick grin of confidence he added, “Yes, sah!”
Crane smiled. Penn had always had confidence in his older cousin. The two boys were close growing up, as neither had any male siblings. Penn was still a boy to Crane though, only twenty-two. The cannon fire was growing more intense now. It seemed as though the fighting was just outside the little forest. Don’t be a fool. You can tell where the fighting is. It’s up near Hamilton’s Crossing, he thought. The regiment probably won’t even see any action today. It’ll just get the men woken up and cause nothing but trouble. Well, no use in getting riled up as well. With that, the young Colonel plopped down under an oak tree and drifted off to sleep.
He was awoken less than ten minutes later, his aide staring him in the face. “Sir, Colonel sir, Hollingsworth, ah, General Hollingsworth has arrived. He wishes to see you immediately sir,” exclaimed Penn, catching his breath. Crane jumped up in quite a sloppy fashion, not befitting a Colonel. He straightened his coat and stroked his beard as he walked with all possible speed towards the General. He could see him now. The tall man up on his horse, his huge black slouch hat in hand. He was Crane’s brigade commander and the man was a fighter, plain and simple. He had been nicknamed the “Old Mule” by the men for his stubbornness to give up a position on the battlefield. Every time he passed they would cheer, throw their hats up in the air, and do all the things soldiers were prone to do when a successful General came by. As Crane approached Hollingworth, he saluted smartly and said, “Hello General, glad to see your well sir. What’s the situation?”
Hollingsworth returned the salute. “Well, Joseph, it’s not a good one. Franklin’s entire Grand Division, ah, Burnside reorganized the Union Army. Two Corps in a Grand Division now. (Crane shuddered at the number of men this force constituted.) Well, it’s been moving our way, towards Hamilton’s crossing. Some hot head with a field battery has been harassing them for the past hour. Scaring them to death, too.” Hollingsworth chuckled lightly and patted his horse’s neck.“That heavy cannon you heard was to our left. They’ve been forming in the town and seem to be preparing for a mass assault on Marye’s Heights. Now there’s a problem. To your direct left, theres a swamp, big ‘un, too. We have no men there. It would be impossible to place them. The Federals found it, passed up and over it and have now broken our lines! Meade’s division did it I believe. Your 53rd is the extreme left of my brigade and the closest unit to the hole. I am ordering you to plug that hole Joseph. Cross the swamp and attack the flank of the Yankee troops that have penetrated our lines. You must move as rapidly as possible, before the rest of Meade’s troops come up. Right now, only about half a brigade strength has broken through. You must only hold out long enough for reinforcements to permanently plug the gap. I have been advised to bring up the rest of my brigade in your support. You are the tip of the sword Colonel. Let me just say, you are the best I have. God speed son!” With that, Hollingsworth turned his horse around, kicked the stallion’s haunches and galloped off, waving his hat to the troops. Crane was trying to comprehend what had just been said to him. Hollingsworth had changed his entire existence. Crane came back to reality quickly. “Lieutenant, Lieutenant Penn!” exclaimed Crane. Penn came, spilling his coffee substitute all the way. He saluted again. Crane returned it quickly, frustrated with the formality. “We have no time for that nonsense Penn. Sound the Long Roll and instruct the men for light march. We can’t be bogged down, were going through a swamp.” Penn seemed to jump up at that. Crane explained further “Our line has been breached and were going to stop their advance! Now move Lieutenant!” Penn didn’t salute this time, he ran off, doing what his Colonel had asked. Crane walked into his tent again, grabbed his belt, sword, revolver, canteen, his officer’s haversack, his knapsack and was off. Couldn’t take the horse. He smiled. The 43rd was ready!
Crane looked down at the muck he was standing in. Ruining the boots, too, he thought. The troop’s morale was suffering. They had been tramping around this swamp for the last hour! He could hear the company commanders yelling, “Close it up!” and “Steady boys, steady!” There was just no ground to dig the heels into. Ah, now he could see the end of this jungle and, what’s this? Penn! Penn came running to him, face looking rather blanched. Behind him came the pickets. Crane had sent him out with fifteen men as an advance party for reconnaissance.
He saluted, caught his breath and began speaking. “Sir, beg to report sah. The Yankees are moving up in force. The flank of the lead column is just up that way.” Penn pointed up to the hill he had just come from. “Sir, they’ll have a hard time advancing into the woods they are about to come upon. It’s thick as the dickens in there sir,” he said, looking on to his commander like a dog waiting for a pat on the head.
Crane gave no sympathy. “Very well Lieutenant. You are dismissed. Oh yes, call the officers as well please,” he said. Penn saluted again, looking rather disappointed. They came soon enough and gathered around the big oak Crane was leaning on, which reminded the Colonel of the one he had napped under that morning. Looking up at them, Crane began speaking. “Gentleman. As you know, we have been sent to stop a Federal breakthrough. The leading regiment is just about to enter a wooded area up that way. Just right up there. Now, as soon as they do, we will attack their flank. We will strike hard, direct and fast. We will isolate them and destroy those people. Now as soon as we’ve driven them back, we must defend those woods. We must not give up that position. We might be able to dig in as well. We will have to hold out until the rest of our brigade arrives. Quiet march from here on out. No shouting to the men, no whooping and hollering. Strict silence. Also, no skirmishers alerting them of our presence. We strike in force. Understood?” The Officers all nodded and looked at each other like hungry wolves all wanting the best piece of the meat. Crane thought, They’re ready. “Good, move your companies out,” he said.
They moved up and out of the swamp silently, backs stooped, almost tip toeing. Crane smiled at the absurdity of the idea. He was at the lead, color guard not far behind. He drew the sword, feeling the balance of the hilt to his hand. He also loaded his revolver. He could see the Union troops now, all in sky blue. They stuck out like a sore thumb. They don’t see us though. That’s good. Penn was right, he thought, that was some thick ground. The 43rd North Carolina was getting closer, moving a little faster now. The blue bellies still didn’t see them. The Yankees were almost in range now. Crane aimed his revolver at the first unsuspecting infantrymen in the Federal line and fired, hitting him. With that, Colonel Crane let out a noise that would make the hair stand up on any Northern soldier’s back, the rebel yell. The scream was taken up along the Tar Heel’s lines as they let out a devastating rate of fire at almost point blank range, advancing all the time. The Federals were taken completely by surprise. They did not even get a chance to fire before Crane’s troops were upon them, bayonets fixed. The company commanders were doing their job beautifully. The 53rd shattered the leading Federal regiment and the Yankee troops beat a hasty retreat from the woods, the officers leading the way. Crane couldn’t help but smirk at his Union counterparts. A hand tapped Crane on the shoulder as he walked through his lines. Startled, Crane turned around and pointed his revolver at the unknown, but it was Penn.
“Only me sir. We really gave them a licking didn’t we sir? The boys put up a real scrap. We captured the Yankee colors sir! The 121st Pennsylvania of Meade’s First Brigade. Took seventeen prisoners, too Colonel. Made a real fine showing sir,” said Penn, holding a grin down.
Crane replied, “We did Lieutenant, but the battles only just begun. Tell the company commanders to rush their men into formation facing the direction the Federals were advancing from. Give them my compliments and tell them I wish they dig in as much as possible.”
Penn nodded “Yes sah!” Crane removed his kepi and ran his hand through his thick graying hair. He was still shaking from the rush of the fighting. The 43rd had done splendidly. They had done what was asked of them. They had plugged the hole. Crane just hoped they could hold out against the Yankee attacks.
“Give ‘em lead for supper boys!” shouted Crane hoarsely as his Confederates unleashed a roaring volley into the blue ranks of the rapidly advancing Federal troops. They fell back, firing as they went. It had been like that all afternoon. The Yankee regiments would attack the 53rd’s position and Crane’s men would repulse them, as they had repulsed the preceding regiments. The Confederates would have just enough time in-between assaults to build up the defenses a little more. Penn came and squatted beside Crane as he surveyed the Federal troop movements with field glasses.
“How does it look Colonel? The men got plenty of ammunition sir, no problem there. I do hope the rest of the brigade arrives soon though. If they come in more force than that last attack, I don’t know if we can hold them off.”
Crane replied, still looking through the glasses “It appears they are massing for another assault Lieutenant Penn. Almost three regiments. We must strengthen the defenses. Come with me.” The two men walked through the lines. Crane had the company commanders assign men to cut down trees and build up rocks, making an imperfect but practical wall. They dug in as well, something the boys (being from Jackson’s corps) were not used to doing. The Union troops appeared in battles lines several minutes later though, so Crane went back to his place near the color guard, Penn in tow.
Crane was right. Three full regiments stepped off and marched towards the Tar Heels. Crane was breathing heavily. God save us, he thought. The Union troops began a double-quick step. Awfully direct attack, thought Crane. The men were starting to get excited. Crane thought he saw one hold up his musket to fire. “Wait for them! Wait! Wait!” The Federals seemed completely rapt by the sight of the 43rd’s defenses. They were almost at the entrenchments now. Crane raised his sword and swung it down. “Fire!” The Federal line was almost halved, but it wasn’t enough and the enemy was over the wall. A vicious hand-to-hand fight ensued. A Union officer raised his sword at Crane and charged him. Crane aimed the revolver and shot him, saying a prayer for the man’s soul. That’s when Crane saw it. As the officer fell to the ground, Crane looked beyond him and saw the most beautiful thing possible to a Colonel in that situation, a mass of gray and butternut, almost behind the Federal regiments, coming up from the swamp. The high-pitched scream of the rebel yell filled Crane’s ears like sweet music. The brigade had arrived!
Several things happened in that moment. Crane looked on in awe as Hollingsworth’s brigade charged the rear of the Yankee lines and Penn turned to view the action as well.
“Sweet mother Moses sir, here comes the Old Mule!” said Penn. Crane turned to reply and saw a Union soldier aim, fire and hit Lieutenant Penn! Quickly, Crane, shot the Federal, then took Penn up in his arms and cradled the young man’s head.
“Oh God, Penn! Lord, don’t take him from this earth. Don’t take him,” he said.
Penn replied weakly, “Sir, Joseph…It was a…a, honor to serve under you. You were always…like, like a brother to me Joseph.”
Crane felt tears flowing from his eyes. “Don’t say that Penn, you’re going to be fine. Just fine,” he said.
“Goodbye sir,” said Penn with a weak smile.
“Penn, Penn!” but he was gone.
The Yankees were all either routed, slaughtered, or captured in a matter of minutes. Another officer walked up to a very disheveled Crane and saluted, taking off his white gloves. Crane returned the salute as rigidly as possible, trying to keep the sickness that was welling up in him down.
The man began speaking, “Colonel Crane? I’m Major White of General Hollingsworth’s staff, hard time getting up here. Positions fortified I see. Appears your people were heavily engaged.”
Crane smiled. “Yes, were glad you showed up. Were is the General Major?” Crane asked.
White looked down, kicked the dirt. Then he said, “Sir, the General’s dead.” Crane blinked, took off his spectacles.
“What?” he said.
“Yes sir. Another Yankee division attacked us, trying to draw us away. That’s why we were so late coming. He was out in front, like always. Federal sharp shooter got him. He will be greatly missed,” said White. It was just too much for Crane. He waved the Major away and walked off into the woods. The Colonel sat down under another oak tree. What can I do? What can I do?

Two weeks after the battle of Fredericksburg, Joseph Crane was promoted to Brigadier General and given command of Hollingsworth’s Brigade, A.P. Hill’s Division of Jackson’s Corps; Army of Northern Virginia. General Crane was killed directing his forces in the battle of Chancellorsville.