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Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander), 1862-1919

"A Story of the Nation's Crisis"

Their officers
had told them that the drums and bugles would call them when needed,
and they sank quietly into the deepest of slumbers. From where they
lay Red Hill, a spur of a mountain, separated them from the Union army.
It was only those like Dick and his comrades who mounted elevations and
who had powerful field glasses who could see into Sharpsburg. The main
Union force saw only the top of a church spire or two in the village.
But each felt fully the presence of the other and knew that the battle
could not be delayed long.
Dick, in his anxiety and excitement, fell asleep. The heat and the
waiting seemed to overpower him. He did not know how long he had slept,
but he was awakened by the sharp call of a trumpet, and when he sprang
to his feet Warner told him it was about four o'clock.
"What's up?" he cried, as he wiped the haze of heat and dust from his
eyes.
"We're about to march," replied Warner, "but as it's so late in the day I
don't think it can be a general attack. Still, I know that our division
is going to cross the Antietam. Up here the stream is narrower than
it is down below, and the banks are not so high.


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