By the time the Richmond troops arrived at Fort Donelson, Jeff and Tom were worn out. They had ridden part of the way on flat cars but walked the last forty miles. Now, as they sat wearily around a campfire, hugging it for warmth, Jeff said with chattering teeth, “I don’t see why we had to come all the way down here, Tom. Seems to me there’d be plenty of fighting going on around Richmond.”
“I reckon this is more important than you know, Jeff.”
Jeff stared at the old crumbling fort perched on the banks of the Tennessee River. “It don’t look like much to me. What’s so all-fired important about it?”
Tom blew on his hands, then held them close to the flickering yellow flames. “Well, look here …” Picking up a stick, he began to draw in the dirt. “You see, right here—this is the Confederate line. Here it comes across bluegrass country and all the way across Missouri and on to Indian Territory, several hundred miles long. Now all this is under the command of General Albert Sidney Johnston.”
“I’ve heard of him!” Jeff exclaimed. “They say President Davis puts a lot of stock in him.”
“That’s right. He said once he didn’t know about other generals but he knew he had one, and that was Albert Sidney Johnston.”
“He ain’t as good as Robert E. Lee, I bet,” Jeff said loyally. He looked around again. “What about this fort?”
Tom drew more wavy lines. “Well, here’s the Tennessee River, and here’s the Cumberland. You see, they run side by side until they come toward the Ohio. Now, right here at the Ohio the Union gunboats have been a threat to our line.”
“I don’t see what difference that makes. A few gunboats couldn’t whip all of us Confederates stretching across here, could they?”
“No, but here’s what happens. You see this area here—here’s where we been getting our supplies. Our armies can’t fight if they don’t have food and guns and ammunition. Things have been coming to us up this river, and Fort Donelson here is the fort that’s supposed to keep us from controlling the supply line.”
“Oh! So this is where we have to stop the Yankees. Is that right?”
“That’s right.” Tom looked out across the fading daylight to where the river purled past the old fort. “If they control the Mississippi, I don’t think we can win. And right here at this little place called Donelson, that’s where it’s going to be settled. If they whip us here, they can take the whole river.”
“Well, who’s going to be our commanding officer now that we’re here? I wish we could have brought General Lee with us.”
“Reckon he’s got all he can do back in Richmond. From what I hear, McClellan’s going to be there soon with about a hundred thousand soldiers. That’s why we gotta stop ’em here quick so we can get back to help him.”
After only a few days, word came that the Northern general, Grant, had taken Fort Henry just a few miles away.
“I reckon they’ll be coming to get us now for sure,” Tom said dubiously. “I wish we were anywhere except here. I don’t like the generals we’ve got.”
The two generals in charge were General Pillow and General Floyd. When the Federal attack came, these generals held out for two days, but then they caved in.
The first that Jeff heard of the bad news was when Tom came in, his mouth hard. “Well, they’ve done it! They’re gonna surrender.”
“Surrender! Why, they can’t do that!”
“They’re arguing about it now, but the word is that those two are gonna quit.”
“What about us, all of us here?”
“We’ll wind up in a prison camp, that’s what! I had a bad feeling about this all the time, Jeff. Now it looks like I was right.”
“We’ve got to get out of here! We can’t stay here. I couldn’t stand it in one of those prison camps, and you couldn’t either, Tom.”
“I know it.” Tom’s shoulders sagged, and he said grimly, “But I just don’t know what we’re going to do about it.”
* * *
Inside the officers’ tent, an argument was going on. The two generals Pillow and Floyd were so discouraged they could do little but moan. Another general, Buckner, tried to encourage them, but they would have none of it.
“You stay here, General Buckner—Pillow and I will leave.”
There was a fourth officer in the tent—General Nathan Bedford Forrest. He was a tall, stronglooking man with a full beard and fierce eyes. He had listened to the defeatist talk of Pillow and Floyd and protested that there was still a way out. He could lead the men through the swamp and across the river, through the enemy lines. “I can get us all out, if you’ll just listen!”
But General Floyd shook his head. “No, it’s hopeless. You can’t do it, Forrest. You’ll have to surrender your command.”
General Forrest glared at him. “I didn’t come to this place to surrender my command. You can do what you want, but I am leading my men out of here.” He turned and left the tent.
General Forrest went to where his cavalry troop was stationed. The men gathered around to hear him. Tom and Jeff had made friends with one of the troopers, and they looked up at the big general.
Forrest said, “Men, they’re going to surrender, but not me. I’m getting out of here if I have to die doing it. Anybody who wants to come is welcome.”
At once the cavalrymen let out a shrill yelp and began hurriedly saddling their horses.
Tom nudged Jeff in the ribs. “This is our chance. I’m going to get out of here with General Forrest.”
“But we don’t have any horses.”
“I don’t care. We’ll swim out if we have to. Come on now.”
Tom led the way to where the general was issuing orders. He waited until he was free and then said, “General?”
Forrest turned his dark eyes on him. “Yes? What is it?”
“My brother and I, we don’t relish going to a Yankee prison camp. Take us with you.”
“I don’t have any horses to spare.”
“We’ll swim—anything. I’d rather die than go to one of those prison camps.”
“Me too, General,” Jeff piped up. “Our pa’s in a prison camp himself. All three of us can’t go there.”
Forrest hesitated only a moment. “All right, I’ll see what I can do.” He looked around. “Lieutenant Simon, put these two fellows behind a couple of our troopers. They can ride double.”
“Yes, sir!” the lieutenant snapped. Then, as the general turned away, he said, “Come on, fellows! We’ve got to get out of here. I’ll find you somebody to ride with.”
An hour later General Forrest’s troop rode out. Jeff and Tom rode behind two of the cavalrymen. The icy river came up as high as the horses’ bellies, and they held their feet up. The water was cold enough to numb the toes.
The lean cavalryman Jeff was holding onto turned and grinned. “A little bit cold, ain’t it?”
“I don’t care,” Jeff said instantly. “I’ll do anything to get out of that place.”
“Well, you ought to join the cavalry. It’s the only way to fight a war.”
Jeff never forgot that ride through the rising, freezing river. A few of the men didn’t make it across, but most of them did.
When he and Tom had gotten safely away, Tom thanked the general. “Sir, I guess we better get on back to Richmond. Our outfit’s there.”
General Forrest nodded. “From what I hear, McClellan’s bringing a pretty big bunch out of Washington, headed for Richmond. If I didn’t have to stay here and help clean up this mess, I’d go with you.”
“We’ll never forget what you’ve done for us, General Forrest,” Tom said. “Thanks a lot!”
Forrest was a stern man, but he grinned. “Remember this—if you get there first with the most, you’ll always whup ’em.”
He turned and galloped away, and Tom said, “Now, there’s one real soldier!”
“He sure is.” Jeff nodded with admiration. “I wish we had a hundred just like him!”