4:30 am October 27, 1863
Brown’s Ferry
It was still dark, although only moments before Eli heard a rebel bugler blowing reveille. In the next moment men shouted as a flatboat ahead of them ground ashore on the left bank of the river, and Eli distinctly heard the clamor of Union soldiers swarming ashore, followed by the pop of musketry.
“I can hardly see a damn thing,” complained Al behind Eli.
Their boat hit the riverbank with a jerk that threw Eli onto the back of the man in front of him.
“Come on, boys!” shouted Captain Williams. “Hooray for the Union!”
Yelling, they sprang to their feet racing forward. In addition to a rush of excitement, Eli felt a great wave of relief jumping onto hard ground. He never wanted to spend another minute of his life on the water. Not ever again.
In the slowly brightening dawn Eli just made out a road that cut through the high banks lining the river. They charged forward, their guns at the ready. The clatter of musketry continued ahead of them, but was scattered and lacked the intensity Eli expected.
Rushing forward, Eli found himself between Big Joe and Al, with Blue nowhere in sight. Hanging back as usual, Eli thought to himself.
The road up the ravine was steep and Eli expected rebels to appear above them, like shooting rats in a trough, but no such thing happened. Reaching the top of the rise he found the Union soldiers who landed before them already securing the area.
“Look at ‘em run,” said Joe pointing into the distance, and Eli saw a scattering of rebel troops disappear into the misty half light of dawn.
The commander of the first wave of the assault force whooped, “We took ‘em by surprise, by God. By God if we didn’t! They’ve all skedaddled.”
“Well, not all,” said Al, pointing to tents where a small group of rebel prisoners stood. The men had their hands in the air, their faces appearing fearful and confused.
“They’ll be back soon enough,” shouted Captain Williams in front of Eli, “and we’ve got to be ready. Craft and McCarthy,” he ordered, “get back to the boat and bring the axes and shovels. The rest of you,” he said, waving the men together, “I want you to join those already building that defensive line to our front and help entrench. When the rebels come back, we’ve got to be ready to send ‘em all to hell.”
Eli and Joe looked warily at each other a moment before silently trotting back to the boat. As they went, more Union troops surged past from additional boats still landing.
Back at the raft Eli uncovered a box of axes under a canvass tarp and scooped up several, cradling them awkwardly in his arms. They were heavy. Joe meanwhile picked up more shovels than Eli could get his arms around, let alone carry.
Eli felt he ought to say something about Joe’s catching him on the river, but he could not bring himself to do it. Yet not saying anything about saving his life made him feel guilty. He frowned, looking up the road.
Joe misunderstood the unhappy expression on Eli’s face and said, “I can carry them axes, too, if they’re too heavy for you.”
Eli glanced at him, irritated. “I can manage fine,” he snapped, his voice sharper than intended. When Joe scowled “Fine by me” back, Eli felt even worse.
Jumping from the boat Joe stomped up the road. Eli scrambled after him, struggling to keep the axes from slipping out of his arms. Joe was lost to his sight in another crowd of Union soldiers scrambling up from the river.