![]() ![]() Now they were forced to relive the past few hours. ![]() ![]() A man ought not be judged for doing what he’s called to do. ![]() They had ridden only a few yards before El turned to shout over his shoulder. The men nodded briefly before reining their horses in opposite directions. Removing his hat, the oldest, El Johnson, spoke first, his voice dry and void of emotion. Reaching the crossroad, the soldiers paused to shake hands. With fear in their hearts and prayers on their lips, mothers had watched their sons ride into battle.įathers had stood by, grim faced, throats working against painful knots that choked the very life from their hearts. The South would give them what-for and send them packing, tails tucked in shame. Fatigue and bitterness marked their features now their eyes darted warily to every bush and ditch.Ĭould it have been only three short years since they had ridden away from their families, filled with idealism, confident of victory? War had aged them far beyond their years, stripped their faces of innocence, toughened their hearts and attitudes. The backs and underarms of the men’s uniforms showed dark sweat pouring from bodies so thin that bones poked through their pale skin. Heat rose from the rutted surface in shimmering mirages the horses’ heavy hooves left puffs of dry dust in the air. Shoulders rounded and heads bobbing with fatigue, the weary band rode slowly toward home. A beleaguered set of riders topped a rise. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |