The same soldiers who had attacked the train were now waiting in ambush, and they opened fire as soon as the men of the regiment began pouring off the train.
Falcon and Major Perkins rallied the regiment.
“Take cover in the train wreckage!” Falcon shouted, and the men scrambled to do so.
The Yankees had one artillery piece, the same cannon that had destroyed the engine. And now they were using it to devastating effect, sending the heavy balls crashing through the remaining cars, sometimes using solid shot to further break up the wreckage, other times using shells to burst overhead and spray the soldiers with flaming bits of hot metal.
In addition to the effective artillery piece, the Yankee solders were bold and well led. Three times they came across the field, and three times they were repulsed, but not without casualties on both sides. Falcon was hit in the left arm and left leg. Fortunately, the bullets only creased him, rather than remaining buried in his flesh, but the creases were deep, bloody, and painful.
“Perkins, how are we holding out?” Falcon asked.
“It’s that damn gun, Falcon,” Perkins said. “It’s not only killing and maiming our men, it’s got them so rattled that some of the men aren’t even shooting back.”
Before Falcon could answer, another cannon round came screaming in. This one was fused, and as it hit, it burst with a loud bang, followed by whistling bits of shrapnel. Some of the men cried out in pain and fear.
“What do you mean they aren’t shooting back?” Falcon asked. “Hell, some of these boys have been with us from the beginning.”
“That’s just it,” Perkins said. “They’re tired, they don’t have anything left.”
“That’s a hell of a note,” Falcon said.
“I’m going to take that gun out,” Perkins declared.
“Are you sure you want to do this? They can’t have an unlimited amount of powder and ball for that thing. Seems to me like the smarter thing to do would be to wait until they run out of ammunition.”
Perkins shook his head. “I don’t know that our boys can wait that long,” Perkins said. “I’m goin’ after the gun,” he said.
Falcon sighed. “We’re equal in rank,” he said, “so I don’t have the authority to stop you. And the truth is, you may be right. So let me know when you are ready and we’ll give you as much cover as we can.”
Perkins shook his head. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, all right, I’ll give you the word when I’m ready.”
A few minutes later, Perkins had three volunteers prepared to go with him. He gave the signal to Falcon that he was ready.
“All right men, keep Major Perkins covered!” Falcon shouted to the others.
Rifles, carbines, and pistols roared and gun smoke billowed up from the Confederate soldiers in the wrecked train. As he had hoped it would be, the Confederate line was answered by the Union soldiers who were firing back just as vigorously. The reason Falcon wanted the Yankees to match his own troops in the intensity of their firing was because it enabled Perkins and his three volunteers to disappear quickly into the clouds of billowing smoke.
For the next thirty minutes, the gunfire continued at such a pace that Falcon was afraid they would soon run out of ammunition. Then he noticed that the artillery fire had stopped.
“The cannon has stopped!” Captain Thomas said, putting to words what Falcon had only thought. “Major Perkins must’ve gotten through.”
“Yes,” Falcon agreed. “Let’s just pray that he and his men get back all right.”
Then, out of the cloud of gun smoke that obscured the field, they saw the volunteers returning. Only this time, one of the men was being carried. Even from where he was, Falcon could tell that the wounded man was Major Perkins.
“Captain Thomas,” Falcon shouted.
“Yes, sir?”
“Set fire to the grass. As soon as the smoke has built up, order the men to pull back. Major Perkins bought us some time…let’s take advantage of it.”
“Yes, sir,” Captain Thomas replied.
Within moments, the smoke from a dozen grass fires mixed with the gun smoke to completely blot out the field. Then, outnumbered and outgunned, Falcon withdrew his men, thus avoiding the necessity of surrender.
Some five miles away from the point of the ambush, Falcon called a halt to the retreat. Looking around, he counted thirty-six men. Just thirty-six from a regiment that was once six hundred strong.
“Major MacCallister,” Captain Thomas said. Like Falcon, Thomas had a bloody bandage around his left arm.
“Yes, Captain?”
“I thought I ought to tell you, sir. Major Perkins just died.”
“Damn.”
“What do you want to do now?” Thomas asked.
“Nothing,” Falcon said.
“Nothing, sir?” Thomas asked, surprised by the response.
“That’s right, Captain, I want to do absolutely nothing. Yesterday, General Garrison told me that General Lee had already surrendered and all we were doing now was trying to reposition ourselves to get better terms. As far as I’m concerned, we’ll make our own terms, right here, right now. You knew Major Perkins from before the war, didn’t you?”
“Yes sir,” Thomas said. “The major’s pa lived on the farm next to my pa. He and I grew up together. I reckon I’ve known him longer than I’ve known anyone.”
“I would like for you to take Major Perkin’s body back to his family. I don’t know how you are going to manage that, with no wagon or horses, but I’d like to see it done.”
Captain Thomas nodded. “I’ll get it done. But I’ll be coming back. I wouldn’t feel right abandoning the regiment.”
“What regiment?” Falcon replied.
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“Look around you, Jerry,” Falcon said. He took in the thirty-six men with a wave of his hand. They were sitting, or lying, on the grass, some asleep, others just staring morosely off into space. Nearly all were sporting bloody bandages around arms, legs, or heads. “Do you see a regiment?”
“I guess I see what you mean,” Captain Thomas said.
“Men,” Falcon called, and everyone looked up at him. “Men, it has been my honor and privilege to serve with you throughout this long war. But as many of you may have heard, Robert E. Lee surrendered all the military in his command to the Yankees at a place called Appomattox. That means the war is over.”
“Hell, Major, we ain’t in Lee’s command,” one of the men said. “We’re in your command.”
“Yeah,” one of the others said. “What do you say we should do?”
“What if I told you I wanted to go back and attack the men who attacked us back there?” Falcon asked.
“Major, give the word and we’d soak our britches in coal oil and attack the devil in hell,” a sergeant said.
Falcon chuckled and nodded. “I know you would,” he said. “But it’s over for us. General Garrison said we were fighting this one last battle for honor. As far as I’m concerned, honor was achieved. This regiment is hereby officially disbanded. I want you to all go home and try to put your lives together again.”
“Regiment, attention!” the one remaining NCO shouted, and slowly, painfully, but determinedly, every soldier in the regiment stood up. Then they aligned themselves into a military formation.
“Present, arms!” the sergeant said, and every soldier brought his rifle up into a salute.
Both Falcon and Thomas, the only two officers remaining, returned the salute.
“Regiment, dismissed,” Falcon said.
“Hoohrah!” the soldiers replied as one. Then, forming little groups of twos and threes, the soldiers left, starting their long walks back home.
“What about you, Major?” Thomas asked.
“I’m no longer a major,” Falcon said.