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(Book titles are subject to change)

A Royal Engineer in the Low Countries

A Cavalry Surgeon at Waterloo

With the Third Guards during the Peninsular War

The First and Last Campaigns of the Great War

Supernatural and Weird Fiction of Vincent O'Sullivan

Supernatural and Weird Fiction of Algernon Blackwood

Narratives of the Anglo-Zulu War

and many others

The Civil War Novels: 3

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The Civil War Novels: 3
Leonaur Original
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Author(s): Joseph A. Altsheler
Date Published: 2009/03
Page Count: 440
Softcover ISBN-13: 978-1-84677-611-3
Hardcover ISBN-13: 978-1-84677-612-0

An epic tale of the war between the States

This is volume three—incorporating the two novels The Star of Gettysburg & The Rock of Chickamauga, the fifth and sixth novels of a series of eight adventures which follow the momentous events, campaigns and battles of the great American Civil War between the Northern and Southern states. The central characters of the story are Harry Kenton—an officer in the Confederate Army and his cousin Dick Mason a young officer in a similar position fighting within the Union ranks. The narrative of the whole war is charted through the action which embraces many actual players in the real conflict. Beginning with First Bull Run and climaxing at Appomattox each novel tells the story from an alternate perspective—from the ranks of the Blue and then the Grey as the saga unfolds. Altsheler wrote another Civil War novel, Before the Dawn, concerning the fall of Richmond told from a Confederate perspective. Although this story is not strictly part of the series Leonaur have offered it as part of its five volume, nine novel collection of the author’s Civil War adventures for collectors and readers in complementing designs and soft cover or hard cover.

The firing of the skirmishers increased. Twigs and leaves cut off by the bullets fell in little showers to the earth. Harry, on horseback now, saw an impatient look pass over the general’s face. The intrepid fighter, A. P. Hill, was coming up fast, but not fast enough for Stonewall Jackson. He turned and rode back toward him, careless of the danger from the Northern skirmishers, who might at any moment see him. <br>
“General,” said one of his staff in protest, “don’t expose yourself so much.”<br>
“There is no danger,” said the general quickly. “The enemy is routed and we must push him hard. Hurry to General Hill and tell him to press forward.”<br>
The little group of men, Jackson and his staff, rode on. It was very dark where they were, in the shade of the stunted forest. No moonlight reached them there. Jackson paused, listening to the rising fire of the skirmishers. A rifle suddenly flashed in the thickets before them. Northern troops, lost in the bush and the darkness, were coming directly their way.<br>
Jackson turned and, followed by his staff, rode toward his own lines. The men of a North Carolina regiment, dimly seeing a group of horsemen coming down upon them, thought they were about to be attacked, and an officer gave an order to fire. He was obeyed at once, and the most costly volley fired by Southern troops in the whole war sent the deadly bullets whistling into Jackson’s group.<br>
Officers and horses fell, shot down by their own men. Jackson was struck in the right hand and received two bullets in his left arm. One cut an artery and another shattered the bone near the shoulder. The reins dropped from his hands, and his horse, the famous Little Sorrel, broke violently away, rushing through the woods toward the Northern lines. A bough struck Jackson in the face and he reeled in the saddle. But with a violent effort he righted himself, seized the bridle in his stricken right hand, and turned back his frightened horse.<br>
Harry had sat still in his saddle, petrified with horror. Then he urged forward his horse and tried to reach his general, but another aide, Captain Wilbourn, was before him. Wilbourn seized the reins of Little Sorrel and then Harry felt the thrill of horror again as he saw Jackson reel forward and fall. But he was caught in the arms of the faithful Wilbourn.<br>
They laid Jackson on the ground, and a courier was sent in haste for his personal physician, Dr. McGuire. Harry sprang down, and abandoning his horse, which he never saw again, knelt beside his general. Wilbourn with a penknife was cutting the sleeve from the shattered arm.<br>
The whole battle passed away for Harry. Death was in his heart at that moment. When he looked at the white, drawn face of Jackson and his shattered arm, he had no hope then, nor did he ever have any afterwards, save for a few moments. The paladin of the Confederacy was gone, shot down in the dark by his own men.<br>
General Hill, who also had been in great danger from the bullets of the North Carolinians, galloped up, sprang from his horse and helped to bind up the shattered arm.<br>
“Are you much hurt, General?” he asked, his face distorted with grief and alarm.<br>
“I fear so,” was the reply, in a weak voice, “and I have suffered all my wounds from my own men. I think my right arm is broken.”<br>
Harry remained motionless. He saw Dalton by his side, and he also saw tears on his face. Jackson closed his eyes and uttered no word of complaint, although it was obvious that he was suffering terribly. General Hill felt his pulse. He was rapidly growing weaker. Harry was so stunned that he would not have known what to do, even had not senior officers been present. When his pulse began to beat again he remained silent, waiting upon his superiors.<br>
But Harry was now alert and watchful again. He heard the heavy firing of the skirmishers on the right, on the left, and in front, and through the darkness he saw the flashes of flame. The little group around the fallen man was detached from the army and the enemy might come upon them at any moment. Even as he looked, two Union skirmishers came through the thicket and, pausing, their rifles in the hollows of their arms, looked intently at the shadowy figures before them, trying to discern who and what they were. It was General Hill who acted promptly. Turning to Harry and Dalton, he said in a low tone:<br>
“Take charge of those men.”<br>
The two young lieutenants, with levelled pistols, instantly sprang forward and seized the soldiers before they had time to resist. They were given to orderlies and sent to the rear. Harry and Dalton returned to the side of their fallen general. While all stood there trying to decide what to do, an aide who had gone down the road reported that a battery of Northern artillery was unlimbering just before them.