File:General Nelson's scout (1898) (14781858281).jpg

Identifier: generalnelsonssc00dunn (find matches)
Title: General Nelson's scout
Year: 1898 (1890s)
Authors: Dunn, Byron A. (Byron Archibald), 1842-1926 Wilmer, Richard Hooker, 1918-, former owner
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Publisher: Chicago : A. C. McClurg and Company
Contributing Library: University Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill
Digitizing Sponsor: University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill

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lops back. He arrives just as the foe is re-pulsed by Wallaces division. His eye sweeps thefield. Why, boys, he cries, they are trying to getaway; we must nt let them. 266 GENERAL NELSONS SCOUT. The words act like magic as they are borne alongthe lines. Cartridge boxes are replenished, and thesoldiers, who a few moments before were in retreat,are now eager to advance. The lines are re-formedand the army sweeps forward. This time it is theConfederates who are pressed back, and soon theopen road is closed. The chance to escape is for-ever gone; Fort Donelson is doomed. Darkness once more came, and with it anothernight of cold and suffering. The early morninglight showed a white flag floating from the rampartsof the fort. Donelson had surrendered. Cold andhunger were forgotten, as the soldiers in their joyembraced each other, and their shouts of victoryrose and fell like the swells of the ocean. The firstgreat victory of the war had been won. Fifteen thousand Confederates were prisoners.
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Why, Boys, they are trying to get away ; we mustnt let them. « CHAPTER XVIL AFTER THE BATTLE. THE sun arose once more on Donelson. Thestorm of the elements, as well as of battle,had passed away. But the horrors of war re-mained. On the frozen ground lay the dead withwhite, pinched faces. Scores of the wounded hadperished from cold and exposure. Some who stillbreathed were frozen to the ground in their ownblood. The cold had been more cruel than thebullets. Fred rode over the battlefield seeking the bodyof an officer in one of the Kentucky regimentswhom he had seen fall. The officer was a friend ofhis fathers. Where the last fierce struggle tookplace before the brigade fell back, Fred found him.He was half-reclining against a tree, and from itsbranches the snow had sifted down, as though try-ing to blot out the crimson with a mantle of white.The officer had not died at once, for the frozenhand held a photograph in its iron grasp—that of ahappy, sweet-faced mother holding a cooing ba

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