Fire Over Atlanta Read Online Free Page A

obeyed the order.
    “How long do I have to stay up here, sir?”
    “I’ll tell you when you can get down! You can think about what a sorry soldier you are while you’re up there!” Lieutenant Logan gave Royal a hard glance. “You leave him there, sergeant, until I tell you to take him down.”
    “Yes, sir!”
    For the next six hours, Drake sat on the horse.What was at first uncomfortable became literal torture after a while. He tried to shift his position, raising himself off the pole from time to time. But that was impossible for long.
    Even worse than the torture were the snickers and laughter of the men of A Company who came by. “Ride ’em, cowboy!” they would yell. “You got him, Drake! Just ride him all the way back to Washington!” Such gibes infuriated him, but he could not do anything about it.
    The lieutenant came by at dusk. “All right, sergeant, cut him loose.”
    Royal slit the thongs binding Drake’s feet and said, “Let me help you down, Drake.”
    “Get away from me!” Drake slipped off the pole, clinging to it to keep from falling until the circulation came back to his legs. Then he staggered off, his face set in an air of resentment.
    “He sure doesn’t learn very good, does he, Professor?” Jay Walters remarked.
    “He sure don’t!” Rosie put in. “He’s always shootin’ himself in the foot. Sure wish he would learn to be nice and easygoing. Maybe some of this new syrup I made out of hemlock will help him.”
    Jay shook his head. “I don’t think any medicine is gonna help him. Just a change of heart.”
    “He needs that all right. He’s a right good feller. He’s just got too much temper for one man.”

3
Drake Sees a Miracle
    T he road to Atlanta wore the Union army threadbare. Day by day the troops slogged forward, fighting battle after battle. The Confederates, led by the wily General Johnston, fought a masterful withdrawal. It was said of Johnston that on retreat he was like a savage wolf, the best general in either army at such tactics.
    After many nasty little battles, Royal Carter sat in front of a sputtering campfire, studying the squad that he was charged with leading. A cold rain was falling, and the fire over which Royal and Walter Beddows were trying to cook bacon and make johnnycakes was a miserable failure.
    “I’m tired of all this!” Walter complained. He suddenly sat back, and the muddy ground squished beneath him. “We fight, and fight, and fight—and those blasted Rebels just back up and hit us again from the sides!”
    Walter had a tin plate in his hand and was hungrily awaiting breakfast. Now he pulled his poncho around his shoulders and tilted his forage cap forward so that the water ran down on his shirtfront. “I’d just as soon bore through to China as get to Atlanta.”
    “It’s not so bad,” Royal said quickly, trying to keep up the spirits of his men. “We’ll make it, fellas. We just have to keep plugging.”
    Drake and Rosie were staring morosely at the sorry attempts to put breakfast together. Rosie said, “If I don’t get some more of my liver medicine pretty soon, I’m going to die before I can get shot.”
    “Well, if you die of liver trouble, you won’t have to worry about gettin’ shot!” Drake said irritably. He looked up at the sullen, gray sky where dark clouds rolled in huge thunderheads, some scattering as a wild wind drove them apart. “I wish this blamed
rain
would clear up!”
    “It’ll probably clear off soon,” Royal said. “Let’s get some dry firewood under here and see if we can get this breakfast going.”
    The squad struggled for some time to get their breakfast cooked but finally succeeded. They sat around eating hotcakes and bacon, and the rain did turn into a fine mist that soaked into their already sodden clothing. They were almost finished with the meal when Major Bates strolled past with several of his officers.
    He looked purposeful, and Royal perked up at once. “It looks like there’s