"Forward to Richmond, Frank?" he said breathlessly, voicing the slogan dreamed up by some chairbound staff officer in Washington.
Hedges' hooded eyes examined the battlefield, with its many bodies sprawled in attitudes of death, and the greater number of writhing wounded calling for help. "You reckon it'll be worth it?" he asked of nobody in particular.
"Only if I get there alive," Forrest answered.
Hedges looked into his hard, cruel grin. He nodded. "Guess that's the only way to look at it," he said softly, as a supply wagon trundled across the Stone Bridge and the men gathered around it to receive an issue of ammunition.
A hospital wagon was immediately behind it and then, as the wounded were put aboard, a column of artillery moved forward and was hauled in the wake of the rebel retreat. Captain Leaman and the remnants of his troop followed the big guns. His arm was still in a sling from the wound he had received on Rich Mountain, but the gauntness of his face, which seemed to have aged ten years since Hedges had last seen him, told of a mind scarred more deeply than his flesh.
"The rebs are massing at a place called Henry House, downriver," he told Hedges. "Looks like they intend to make a stand there. We're going to throw everything we've got at them."
And indeed, as he spoke, a second battery of heavy artillery crossed the Bull Run.
"We winning, Captain?" Seward asked, as he finished loading his guns and packing his ammunition pouch.
Leaman grimaced. "Any man still alive must be winning," he answered softly, clasping his hands together to stop them from trembling. He turned to his men. "Right, let's go."
Hedges gave no instruction to his own troopers or the infantrymen who had lost their own officers and chose to follow him. He simply set off and they straggled along behind him. Douglas, Bell and Scott were among them and Hedges began to wonder if somehow Forrest and his henchmen were immune to hurt and death. Whether their individual toughness and amorality fused into a single, penetrable shield against enemy bullets, protecting them while men with the higher attributes of humanity were killed and maimed. It was a futile and fruitless line of thought, but it enabled Hedges to occupy his mind as the Union army swelled around him on the forward push.
The Henry House stood on a wooded plateau under the crest of a hill and it was on the high ground that the Union batteries were positioned, commanding a good view of the green Virginia countryside spread out below. When they opened up their first barrage, the sound provided a spur to the mixed cavalry troops and infantry units bringing up the rear and the men surged forward with enthusiasm, sensing victory and anxious to achieve it so there would be time for rest.
But as the rebels retreated from the plateau the officers commanding the Union batteries were too hasty in ordering the gunners to follow. The cannon and mortars were hauled down the hill too far in advance of the supporting infantry. The error was realized and the forward movement was halted, the guns set up to lay a barrage into the retreating Confederates while the Union foot soldiers had time to join the battle.
Hedges crested the hill and looked down the tree-covered incline just as the guns ceased their firing. Coming up the hill, wheeling from the left in a read formation, were several hundred blue-coated figures and 120 from where Hedges stood he could hear the artillery men yelling at the foot soldiers to clear the line of fire.
"Clear the way there!" a man shouted from behind Hedges and he jumped aside as a supply wagon rolled forward.
At the same moment rifles crackled and the men at the top of the hill looked down in amazement as those coming up the hill increased the pace and began to fire.
"They're goddamn rebs," Forrest screamed in anger. "They look like us, but they're rebs."
As the blue-coated Confederates closed on the first line of artillery, dropping the gunners with a murderous hail of bullets, the counter-attack began in earnest, with many hundreds of enemy soldiers breaking from cover and streaming up the hill.
"Retreat!" an officer shouted and several buglers blared the command.
The gunners were already turning to flee in the face of the savage counter-attack and they communicated their panic to the men on the hilltop. The rout was on, but Hedges wanted none of it and neither did Forrest and his henchmen. They lumbered along behind the captain as he headed for the supply wagon which had been abandoned by its terrified driver.
Hedges leapt up on to the seat and Forrest thudded into a position beside him. The others scrambled over the tailgate as Hedges whipped the four horse team into a gallop down the hill, through the scattering of fleeing gunners. The wagon careened into the trees, low branches ripping through its canvas top, and then skidded into a sliding, rocking turn as Hedges hauled on the reins, halting it close to the rearmost field gun.
"Get that aboard!" Hedges ordered as he jumped down and stood behind a tree, peering through the undergrowth for a view of the rebel advance. "Tie it down and load as many shells as you can."
"You're getting to like this killing business, uh?" Forrest said with a grin as he led the men to the gun and they started to haul it towards the wagon.
Hedges shot at a rebel sergeant and saw the man's high crowned hat scale off his head. A second bullet struck high in the chest and the man fell. "I don't like losing," he muttered and snatched a glance over his shoulder to see the gun being manhandled up into the rear of the wagon.
He returned to his self-appointed task of supplying covering fire as Seward clambered aboard the wagon and started to toss out cases of ammunition while Scott and Douglas took care of the artillery shells. Forrest and Bell moved across to Hedges and began to loose off rifle fire as more rebels came within range.
"Ready, Captain!" Douglas yelled and the three men backed towards the wagon, firing as they went.
"Get it tied down!" Hedges shouted as he blazed away in a final burst to empty the Spencer and then leapt up on to the wagon seat, and whipped the team into movement.
The wagon came around in a tight turn and started up the hill under a barrage of small arms fire. Forrest and Bell stood their ground for as long as their ammunition lasted and then pivoted and ran after the wagon, to be hauled over the tailgate by the giggling Seward and grim-faced Douglas. Scott was lashing the wheels of the field gun to side struts on the wagon.
"Hey!" Forrest yelled in excitement as he slapped his hand on the barrel of the piece. "We got a bigger gun than the rebs now."
"Don't talk about it!" Hedges shouted above the racket of the rifle fire and whine of flying bullets. "Use it."
"Boom!" Seward said with the delight of a child as he watched Douglas feed in a shell.
Cuuuruunch… The sound was deafening and the recoil of the gun rocked the wagon. Smoke belched from the wide muzzle, hot and evil smelling. The Union men peered through it and saw bodies and dismembered limbs sailing across blackened ground.
"That broke 'em up!" Forrest yelled, just as the wagon jolted over the crest of the hill and the pursuers were lost to sight.
From his vantage point Hedges had an uninterrupted view of the river and the thousands of men, streaming across it in full, disorganized retreat. They were on foot and on horseback and many clung to the sides of trundling wagons. Their shouts and screams were answered by rifle fire and the boom of heavy artillery as the jubilant Confederates gave chase. Men fell individually and in groups as bullets and shells found random targets.