Macgregor thought he would be too proud to ask for help, so she took it on herself to write to you.”
“I expect she’s right,” Hawke said. “The Ian Macgregor I remember is a proud man and not someone who asks for help very easily.”
“Yes, sir, that’s Ian Macgregor, all right,” Emerson said.
As the buckboard proceeded along the long, straight, road, Hawke sat warming in the sun, recalling the last time he had seen Ian Macgregor.
It was in late April 1865, and the Georgia 15th had boarded a train for its run south over the bucking strap-iron and rotted cross ties of the railroad. Since both Colonel Jefferson Hawke, the original commander, and Major Gordon Hawke, the next commander, had been killed, the regiment was no longer referred to as Hawke’s Regiment except by some of the older soldiers who had been with it from the beginning.
The Georgia 15th was now part of the army of Richard Taylor, a Confederate general who also happened to be the son of Zachary Taylor, hero of the Mexican War, and former President of the United States.
The regiment that boarded the train was less than thirty percent of its mustering-in strength when it had gathered so proudly at the home of Charles Brubaker for a predeployment barbecue. Of the thirty-five officers who had taken to the field with the regiment, all had been killed except for Edward Rathbone and Mason Hawke. Captains both, the men had started the war as second lieutenants.
Major James Coleman was now in command of the regiment, having been put in that position by General Taylor.
Though Coleman was officially in command, everyone in the regiment, Coleman included, deferred to Sergeant Major Ian Macgregor, who had held that same rank since the beginning of the war. Macgregor had been offered a commission but declined, stating that he believed he could best serve the regiment by staying in his current position.
When the explosion took the engine off the tracks, the first three cars of the train telescoped in on themselves, causing a tremendous number of casualties, killing Major Coleman and five other regimental officers.
Hawke was riding in one of the rear cars, and his only indication that something had happened was in the fact that the train came to an almost immediate stop, throwing men into the floor. Even as some of the men were swearing about the incompetence of the engineer, Hawke realized what had happened, and he started urging the men to get off the cars.
The train had been hit by a bomb that was placed on the track by Federal soldiers. These same soldiers were waiting in ambush, and they opened fire as soon as the men of the regiment began pouring off the train.
Hawke, Rathbone, and Sergeant Major Macgregor rallied the regiment.
“Take cover in the train wreckage!” Hawke shouted, and the men scrambled to do so.
The Yankees had one artillery piece, a 12-pounder, which fired an explosive round every couple of minutes. Fortunately, the position of the gun was such that the Federals could not get the proper angle to drop the shells in on Hawke’s men. Though the incoming rounds were loud, they weren’t threatening, or even frightening, to men who had already been through four long, bloody years of war.
“Why don’t they attack?” Rathbone asked. “Don’t they realize how easily they could overrun us?”
“I think they are new troops,” Hawke replied. “They got lucky when they blew up the train, but they don’t have the experience to follow it up.”
They heard the swooshing sound of another shell coming in, and were easily able to follow its path by the sputtering, smoking fuse that traced its arc through the sky. It hit about forty yards away, booming loudly, but sending the shrapnel out in an ineffective cone.
“Mason, I’m going to take that gun out!” Rathbone said.
“Eddie, no, why bother?” Hawke asked. “They aren’t even coming close. It’s not worth the risk.”
“Yes, it is worth the risk,” Eddie replied.
“I expect she’s right,” Hawke said. “The Ian Macgregor I remember is a proud man and not someone who asks for help very easily.”
“Yes, sir, that’s Ian Macgregor, all right,” Emerson said.
As the buckboard proceeded along the long, straight, road, Hawke sat warming in the sun, recalling the last time he had seen Ian Macgregor.
It was in late April 1865, and the Georgia 15th had boarded a train for its run south over the bucking strap-iron and rotted cross ties of the railroad. Since both Colonel Jefferson Hawke, the original commander, and Major Gordon Hawke, the next commander, had been killed, the regiment was no longer referred to as Hawke’s Regiment except by some of the older soldiers who had been with it from the beginning.
The Georgia 15th was now part of the army of Richard Taylor, a Confederate general who also happened to be the son of Zachary Taylor, hero of the Mexican War, and former President of the United States.
The regiment that boarded the train was less than thirty percent of its mustering-in strength when it had gathered so proudly at the home of Charles Brubaker for a predeployment barbecue. Of the thirty-five officers who had taken to the field with the regiment, all had been killed except for Edward Rathbone and Mason Hawke. Captains both, the men had started the war as second lieutenants.
Major James Coleman was now in command of the regiment, having been put in that position by General Taylor.
Though Coleman was officially in command, everyone in the regiment, Coleman included, deferred to Sergeant Major Ian Macgregor, who had held that same rank since the beginning of the war. Macgregor had been offered a commission but declined, stating that he believed he could best serve the regiment by staying in his current position.
When the explosion took the engine off the tracks, the first three cars of the train telescoped in on themselves, causing a tremendous number of casualties, killing Major Coleman and five other regimental officers.
Hawke was riding in one of the rear cars, and his only indication that something had happened was in the fact that the train came to an almost immediate stop, throwing men into the floor. Even as some of the men were swearing about the incompetence of the engineer, Hawke realized what had happened, and he started urging the men to get off the cars.
The train had been hit by a bomb that was placed on the track by Federal soldiers. These same soldiers were waiting in ambush, and they opened fire as soon as the men of the regiment began pouring off the train.
Hawke, Rathbone, and Sergeant Major Macgregor rallied the regiment.
“Take cover in the train wreckage!” Hawke shouted, and the men scrambled to do so.
The Yankees had one artillery piece, a 12-pounder, which fired an explosive round every couple of minutes. Fortunately, the position of the gun was such that the Federals could not get the proper angle to drop the shells in on Hawke’s men. Though the incoming rounds were loud, they weren’t threatening, or even frightening, to men who had already been through four long, bloody years of war.
“Why don’t they attack?” Rathbone asked. “Don’t they realize how easily they could overrun us?”
“I think they are new troops,” Hawke replied. “They got lucky when they blew up the train, but they don’t have the experience to follow it up.”
They heard the swooshing sound of another shell coming in, and were easily able to follow its path by the sputtering, smoking fuse that traced its arc through the sky. It hit about forty yards away, booming loudly, but sending the shrapnel out in an ineffective cone.
“Mason, I’m going to take that gun out!” Rathbone said.
“Eddie, no, why bother?” Hawke asked. “They aren’t even coming close. It’s not worth the risk.”
“Yes, it is worth the risk,” Eddie replied.
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