CHAPTER 16:
SPOTSYLVANIA COURT HOUSE

The Bucktails buried Zeke in a grove of pines behind the Union trenches. They used boards from a hardtack box for a grave marker. As they pounded the marker into the ground, Boone mumbled, “I could be layin’ here instead o’ Powers. His pa sure taught ’im how ta fight.”

“And the Rebs—to hate,” Jimmy said bitterly. “Now, who’s going to explain to his wife and little girls. . .how he fell?”

“I’ll do it,” offered Curtis. “All’s I gotta say is he died a hero. An’ that ain’t stretchin’ the truth.”

“Why does it always gotta rain at a funeral?” wondered Bucky, blinking back a tear.

“It’s God’s way of sharing our sorrow,” answered Jewett. “Do you boys mind if I say a few words over Zeke?”

“Go ahead,” agreed Hosea. “I was jess ’bout ta suggest it anyhow.”

“Dear Lord,” began Jimmy, bowing his head, “please accept into Your gracious presence the soul of our comrade, Zeke Powers. He was a sober man full of love for his family. He was brave and loyal. May he rest in peace. Amen.”

The Bucktails trudged back to their lines, each deep in his own somber thoughts. Boone stared blankly ahead, while Hosea’s eyes simmered with angry emotion. Jimmy, meanwhile, looked hard into the overcast skies until his spectacles were spotted with raindrops.

Bucky took a letter out of his pocket, read it quickly, and shoved it back in the envelope before the rain could smear the ink. Finally, he said softly, “I jess heared from Sarah ag’in if you boys is interested.”

“What did she say?” asked Jewett.

“That the baby’s doin’ fine. He’s got lots o’ black hair an’ is big fer a newborn. He don’t fuss at night er nothin’. Won’t be long now, Jimmy, be-fore you an’ me kin go see ’im fer ourselves.”

“Yes, I pray every day for that to happen.”

Bucky’s squad returned to the trenches as the last glimmer of daylight faded from the sky. Before they could take up their positions, word passed down the line that the Pennsylvania Reserves were to pull out.

So began a night march through wind, rain, and lots of deep mud. Behind the massed troops at the Union center, they made a big looping circle toward the Ny River to the east. The supply wagons and artillery caissons continually bogged down on the swampy roads. Often, the Bucktails stopped to help free the vehicles from the mire, so the column could continue. It was a strange, wooded country, and twice Bucky’s squad got turned around in the darkness to lose their way. Finally, near exhaustion, Jimmy panted, “Why don’t we lay down and get some sleep before we fall in a swamp and drown?”

“Now, you’re talkin’,” said Curtis. “There is still some sense left in that edjucated brain o’ yers.”

The Bucktails took shelter in a dense pine grove to escape the rain that suddenly fell in buckets. No one was awake enough to stand watch, nor was it warranted in such desolate country. The squad huddled together for body heat and fell instantly into a dead slumber.

It was well past dawn that the song of woodland birds awakened the men, and they got to their feet with growling bellies. It didn’t take long for trained scouts to strike the path of the Union Army, which cut directly across the two branches of the Ny. The Bucktails finally caught up with their column after it cut south again to ford the river. From there, they marched to the Fredericksburg Road and proceeded to within striking distance of the right side of the Confederate line. Driving off some Reb pickets from Bleak Hill, Bucky’s squad got a beautiful view of the Spotsylvania Court House shining in the afternoon sun below.

On the morning of May 18^th, the Pennsylvania Reserve artillery was ordered to pound the Rebel lines, while the Second and Sixth Corps attacked the Confederate center. As part of the operation, two companies of Bucktail skirmishers were sent forward to silence a battery that sat near the court house. Bucky’s squad was among them, and they slipped silently down the ridge to peer over the crest at the enemy below. Jimmy, more curious that the others, stood up to get a better view. The Reb infantry that protected the cannons immediately sang out, “Get down thar, Yanks,” and banged away vigorously to enforce their order. The Bucktails fell on their faces and hugged the ground until the whining bullets whizzed past. Afterward, they sprang up and peppered the Rebs with their Spencer repeaters.

Bucky’s squad continued to harass the gun crews and infantry until an officer from Cooper’s battery crawled to their position to take bearings. “Count my hits and then send me word,” directed the artilleryman before slipping off to sight in his fieldpieces.

A short time later the Union battery above the Bucktails burst into life to spit round shot in the direction of the court house. “Lookee there! Five o’ the seven shots done found their mark,” applauded Boone when the barrage was over. “Cooper’s boys is quite the sharpshooters theirselves.”

Just before dark, the Bucktails spotted a company of Rebs surge forward to extend their lines and cut some covering brush. As the entrenchers madly wielded picks, shovels, and axes, Bucky and his mates poured deadly fire into them until they broke and ran. This so infuriated a Rebel colonel that he assembled his regiment and urged it forward up the slope to drive the Union sharpshooters from the ridge.

“Ain’t no way we’s gonna hang on ’gainst them boys,” whistled Curtis. “We best fall back inta them trees up yonder.”

It was fully dark by the time the first Reb lines broke over the crest, and the Confederates blasted the ground where the Bucktails had lain just moments before. Guided by the muzzle flashes, Bucky’s squad blazed away from their new position with incredible accuracy. The shrieks of the stricken Rebs reached a fearful pitch until the sharpshooters melted into the night.

“That was like shootin’ rats by lantern light,” chortled Hosea as the Bucktails crept up the hill to rejoin the Pennsylvania Reserves.

“The way they screamed,” snickered Boone, “I thought they was gals lost in a graveyard.”

The Bucktails didn’t have long to relish their success, for the next morning the Rebs launched a desperate counterattack against the Union right flank. A division of green Yanks under the command of General Robert Taylor successfully beat back the Rebels in a fierce fight. The Pennsylvania Reserves witnessed the action but were never called up to participate. As Curtis watched Tyler’s men needlessly risk life and limb, he muttered, “Them fresh fish is braver than they is smart. Look at the way they charge ’cross that swampy ground instead o’ stickin’ ta the woods.”

“They can’t realize the danger they’re in,” gasped Jimmy.

“But they’s sure im-pressin’ them Rebs!” yelped Boone, watching Tyler’s raw troops drive Ewell’s gray-coated veterans before them.

“The Rebs think our fellas is plumb crazy,” concluded Bucky. “That’s why they broke an’ run.”

After the battle, Tyler’s troops filed through the cheering ranks of Pennsylvania Reserves and set up their camp next to the Bucktails. The evening was chillier than usual for May, so Bucky and his men erected their doghouses to protect themselves from the cold. They had no sooner settled in for the night when their slumber was disturbed by the distant fire of Reb pickets. Before those shots had faded away, a barrage of bullets ripped through the sides of the Bucktails’ tents narrowly missing the occupants.

“Where in the gol-dang blue blazes did that volley come from?” howled Hosea, boiling out of his doghouse with his Spencer rifle in hand.

“Is anyone hurt?” cried Jimmy.

“No, me an’ Boone’s okay,” affirmed Culp.

“Git down!” ordered Hosea. “’Til we locates them rascals that shot up our camp.”

The Bucktails barely had time to follow Curtis’ command when another faint pop of picket gunfire precipitated a second raking of their tents by much closer assailants.

“Why, them shots is comin’ from gol-dang Tyler’s boys next door,” growled Hosea.

“I heard they came from nice safe Washington barracks,” croaked Jimmy. “They still must be nervous from seeing the elephant.”

“Well, they’s sure scared o’ the dark,” groaned Boone. “What’s we gonna do?”

“Move ta the other side o’ the trees,” replied Bucky.

“But that’d put us way closer to the Rebs,” objected Jewett.

“Reb snipers don’t shoot up the dark fer no reason,” reminded Culp. “We’ll be a lot safer near them than Tyler’s jumpy yahoos.”

“Reb snipers don’t pee their pants, neither,” chortled Boone, “so it’ll smell a lot better over yonder.”