Talons of Eagles by William W. Johnstone Read Free Book Online

like the wind. And the young man’s parents were dead, his only close relative a sister living down near the Virginia/Tennessee border. Jamie had a suspicion that before this war was over, there would be damn few original members of the Marauders left. He had thought at first to select only single men, but as it turned out, about half of his men were married.
    Jamie’s Marauders began gathering in four places just south of the Potomac River. Across the river, clearly visible to the naked eye, were the camp fires of the Federals. Although President Davis and General Lee had forbid General P. G. T. Beauregard from taking any type of offensive action against the Yankees, that order did not apply to MacCallister’s Marauders; they were militarily designated as guerrillas and therefore could attack any Federal position they chose.
    On this night, the Marauders would not attack in force. Jamie had other plans. Captain Sparks was an experienced Indian fighter with years of fighting Comanches and Apaches behind him, and so was Lieutenant Casten. Jamie chose nine other men with experience fighting Indians, and at full dark, they left their horses on the south side of the river and rowed across the river, using boats that had been hidden in the brush the day before. Jamie and his men were armed only with pistols and knifes and packets of explosives.
    The green troops of General McDowell were about to experience the terror of sneak attack by men who had learned it firsthand from the greatest guerrilla fighters the world has ever known: the Indians.
    Sparks and Casten marveled at the ability of Jamie to blend in with his surroundings and move as silently as a ghost, in spite of the man’s large size. Many times during night training Jamie had slipped up to experienced men and tapped them on the shoulder. Startled one man so badly he soiled his underwear—it would be a long time before he lived that down.
    Jamie took Casten and three enlisted men and circled the camp to his left, while Sparks took the remainder and went to his right. Sparks knew what to do, for this had been researched several times, using information supplied to Jamie from Confederate spies.
    Jamie placed his black powder charges gently, choosing his spots with care. One smaller charge went between two senior officers’ tents. Another huge charge was planted behind the rough-built powder house. The men with Jamie and Sparks planted small charges around artillery pieces; when that was done, they backed off just inside good pistol range and waited for Jamie’s signal.
    Jamie could have killed several of the sentries, but elected to spare them . . . for this night. Once the war began in earnest, he would not be so generous.
    Neither Jamie, Sparks, nor any of the other men could cut the fuses for the charges until they were actually on the site. So all breathed a silent prayer to the gods of war that they were allowing themselves plenty of time to get clear before the charges blew.
    Mostly it was the skill of the men with Jamie, but some of their success had to be placed on the shoulders of the green troops guarding the encampment. The Marauders did their work, lit the fuses, and slipped away to lie belly down in good pistol range of the camp without being detected.
    When the several hundred pounds of explosives blew, it must have sounded like the end of the world to those green troops in the camp. Four senior officers were killed instantly by the charge that Jamie had planted between the tents, and several more were badly wounded. When the block house went up it leveled everything within a five-hundred-foot radius. The charges under the artillery pieces went off, and for some inexplicable reason known only to God and the inexperienced artillery crews, the cannons were fully charged and ready to fire. Sparks from the exploding charges ignited the powder in the fire holes, and the cannons began going off. Since many had the wheels blown off them,