Free A Blaze of Glory by Jeff Shaara

bushes to one side, Gladstone running low, then down beside him. The sergeant shouted out, “Hinkle!”
    The boy came at a gallop, stumbling out onto the railroad bed, breathing as heavily as the prisoner. Gladstone drew his knife, reached down, and made a short slice. Seeley jumped, thought, no! But he saw now, the sergeant had cut the rope that had been tied to the man’s arm. He pulled it in quick draws, the small raft now sliding up the bank.
    “See here, sir? We got us a bluebelly and a handful of hardware along with him. You like my idea now?”
    Seeley said nothing, thought of the captain, the orders not to engage anyone.
    “Let’s just get him back to the others. We’ll let the captain tell us if this was a good idea.”
    M cDonald leaned close to the man’s face, said, “He’s stinkin’, that’s for sure. River water and piss. Who’s got a match?”
    “Here!”
    Seeley stood close beside McDonald, a crowd of the others gathered close behind them, and now the match ignited, blinding, and Seeley saw the prisoner’s face, clean-shaven, handsome man, and very scared.
    “Please don’t kill me.… ”
    “Oh, shut the hell up, boy. Only reason we’ll kill you is if you don’t answer my questions, that’s all.”
    The match went out, and Seeley blinked hard, tried to see anything of the prisoner. The man was held down tightly on both sides by Gladstone and Hinkle, but there was nothing of escape in this man, the pure terror draining away any soldiering he might have brought to the uniform.
    “Who … who are you? You a secesh ?”
    McDonald kept his voice hard, said, “Now that’s your second mistake. I ask and then you answer. Your first mistake was swimming straight into a full regiment of the Confederate army’s finest cavalry. What jackleg officer ordered you to do something that stupid? It was pretty stupid now, wasn’t it, Private?”
    Seeley thought, regiment? But he understood what McDonald was doing. No one needs to know there’s two dozen of us, and a million damn Yankees across the river. The question was a trick as well, and the prisoner fell flat-faced into it.
    “Captain Danforth’s orders. Told us we needed to set up watch over on this side of the river, make sure nobody snuck up on us. The captain asked us if we could swim. I used to all the time … at home … all the time … Sandusky Bay. Corporal Boynton … said he could, but I knew he wasn’t strong. He got swept away. You find him? He’s always trying to be a hero, volunteering for everything. I knew he’d have trouble in that current. Tried to grab him … awful …”
    “Oh for God’s sake, son, I asked one simple question. This Captain Danforth, what company he command?”
    “Company C, sir. Uh … maybe I ought not be telling you this. They told us …”
    “Listen, son, you know what a Tennessee toothpick is?”
    “N-n-no, sir.”
    “Somebody light another match.”
    The captain’s order was obeyed, a flash of light bursting between them. McDonald was squatting within arm’s length of the prisoner and Seeley could see that he had already drawn the long knife. The captain made a quick show, held it out, turning the blade to reflect the flicker of light. The match went dark, and McDonald said, “We all carry these, son. Sharp as the day I was born. They’re real good for gutting a hog, or, even better, they’ll split a Yankee from his chin to his soft privates. Sharp on both sides, so you can spin it around right inside a man’s chest. Now, you can tell me what I want to know, or I’ll show you just how sharp this blade is.”
    “Ohio, sir! Forty-ninth Ohio! Colonel Blackman! General McCook’s Division! Please …”
    “McCook?”
    Seeley knew the name meant something to the captain, had to be important.
    “How many more behind you?”
    “Don’t know, sir. Really! Don’t know. Bunch of us, though. I heard the colonel talking. Said something about General Nelson … somebody else … oh Lord … I