Soldier's Heart by Gary Paulsen Read Free Book Online

chattering of the rifles was continuous.
    Half a mile, he thought—it’s just half a mile to the fighting. He listened expertly while they marched. The lane ended a quarter mile ahead in a T. Some of the firing was off to the right, but most was to the left. They would probably be told to move left—into the worst of the firing.
    For a change Charley was wrong. At the end of the T they were stopped.
    â€œThrow down your packs and bedrolls. Carry only your rifle, cartridges, bayonet and canteens. Form line-of-battle to the right! To the right!” sergeants yelled.
    The officers on horses dismounted and withthe sergeants directed the men down the road until they were stretched a quarter mile, then across a rail fence into a field of grain stubble.
    Always a field, Charley thought—there’s always fear and always a meadow.
    Once out in the open he could see more of the battle. In front of him, for the moment, there were no soldiers, Rebel or Union, just a field that stretched away a quarter mile to a line of trees. There was no foliage in the trees but even as bare as they were he could see no Rebel troops or artillery to their front.
    Off to their left, well away—close to a mile—an absolute inferno raged. Artillery from both sides covered the battlefield with smoke, and the din of cannon and rifle fire was constant and deafening. Whenever the smoke cleared in small gusts of breeze he could see men dropping by the hundreds, broken and crumpled and falling.
    Nothing, Charley thought as he watched thefight, absolutely nothing could live through that, and he was grateful that it was happening to others and not him.
    â€œThere they are!” somebody near him cried. “In the trees …”
    Charley squinted and saw them. Not infantry this time. But assembling back in the trees were troops of cavalry, the horses jostling each other and kicking as they were pulled alongside each other.
    â€œThey’re going to come at us! They’re sending horse against us!” somebody yelled.
    â€œReady on line!” An officer in front of them walked back and forth with a saber. “Do not fire until directed and then fire at will. On my command the first time! Front ranks kneel.”
    Charley was in the second rank and he stood while the front rank kneeled. The horses moved out of the trees, walking forward in a line.
    Close on a hundred of them, Charleythought, watching. They’re a hundred and they’re going to try to ride over us. He saw the glint of sun on cavalry sabers and carbines. They were still three hundred yards distant but he could see the shine of horses’ hair and the splash of light off bridle hardware and chest straps. The horses began to walk faster, and then trot, the men holding them in good line.
    â€œPresent arms!” officers and sergeants called, and men raised their rifles, cocking the hammers.
    â€œWait for it … wait for it. Not yet, boys, not yet.” A sergeant in front moved back into the ranks to get out of the line of fire. “Aim for the horses. When you get the command, aim low—hit the horses to break the men.”
    More meat for the sick, Charley thought, and felt bad for having to kill the horses. He didn’t fret the men at all. They were going to kill him and he didn’t mind killing them first. But he hated shooting the horses.
    They started to canter. Two hundred yards now. A hundred and fifty.
    â€œReady!”
    One hundred yards. The Rebel troopers were screaming that chuttering, high-pitched Rebel yell, and the horses were full out, eating the distance.
    Fifty yards. I could hit them with a chucked corncob, Charley thought. Spit flying out of the horses’ mouths, hooves rumbling against the frozen ground; we’ll never stop them, Charley thought, no way in Hades can we stop them.
    â€œFire!”
    At no more than thirty yards, over six hundred men fired in a volley at a hundred charging