Fire Over Atlanta Read Online Free

But you know what they’re really tryin’ to do is stall for time.”
    “Why they doin’ that?” Rosie inquired.
    “Because, if the war keeps on going on, some of our folks back home might decide it costs too much. And if President Lincoln gets defeated next November, the war might just be stopped. So if they can just hold out, they’ve got a good chance of winning that way.”
    The others listened, but Royal knew they actually paid little attention to theories.
    However, they soon paid attention to the action. When the Federals arrived at a place called Resaca, they made an attack, and there was intense fighting. After this, they pursued the Rebels until they fought again. Johnston and his Confederate forces were waiting for them at Newhope Church, and hard battles were fought there.
    Royal and his squad were sent on a wide, ranging sweep and, after a series of operations, found themselves in front of Kennesaw Mountain. The Northern army had come three-fourths of the way to Atlanta, and so far there had been only isolated pitched battles. But this time Sherman loosed the entire Federal force on Confederate positions.
    Sherman’s troops took considerable mauling, and the general, fighter that he was, decided that Atlanta could not be taken by a frontal assault. The Unionforces then moved along the Chattahoochee River, and the Confederates eventually retired across the river to a strong position just north of Atlanta.
    During all of the battles, Drake had fought with courage. He was a man who could endure almost anything except inactivity. He was a social being, loved parties, played the fiddle well, had a good singing voice, and had been very popular in civilian life. Now, once the armies were not fighting but simply waiting it out, he became restless.
    Royal was careful how he spoke to Drake. He considered the man a friend even though the two of them were in fierce competition for Lori Jenkins. But being a responsible sergeant, finally he could overlook Drake’s malingering and laziness no longer. Approaching him one morning as Drake lay outside his tent while the other men were working, he said, “Drake, up and at it! Help the other fellas!”
    Drake, unfortunately, had found some liquor the night before and had gotten drunk. He probably had a terrible headache, for he flinched at the impact of Royal’s voice. Without opening his eyes he said, “You don’t need me, Royal!”
    Even as he spoke, an officer walked by, Lt. Harvey Logan, a hard man on any private who spoke back to his officer or noncom.
    Alarmed, Royal said, “Come on, Drake, get with it!”
    Drake, again without opening his eyes, cursed Royal and told him, “Get away and leave me alone!”
    “
On your feet, private!”
    At the rough voice of the lieutenant, Drake did open his eyes, and when he saw the anger on Logan’s face, he scrambled to his feet.
    “If you don’t like to work, I’ll give you something better to do.”
    “I think I can discipline him, lieutenant,” Royal said hastily. “If you don’t mind, sir.”
    “I do mind!” the lieutenant said. “He’s been getting away with murder! Let him ride the horse. See if he likes that. After a few hours, he’ll be glad to go to work.”
    The rest of the squad stood listening to all this, and some of them looked pleased. Royal knew they resented having to do Drake’s work.
    “Get him on that horse!”
    Royal had no choice. “Come on, Private Bedford.”
    Drake had gone too far, but he was a proud young man and would never beg. When he got to the wooden “horse,” which was a rough pole six inches across and suspended six feet in the air by crossed legs, he turned a little pale. Men had been kept straddled on this apparatus until they cried for mercy.
    “On that pole, Bedford,” Lieutenant Logan ordered.
    Drake leaped up and straddled the pole. He held on with his hands in front of him and waited.
    “Tie his feet under there!” Lieutenant Logan said, and with regret Royal