The Smoke At Dawn: a Novel of the Civil War
“He moved the animal carefully, pushed slowly past one of the camps, Arkansas men, some of his own, familiar faces. But few were cheering him, few noticing him at all. They tended mostly to laboring over the makeshift shelters of leaves and branches, the only thing they had to pass for tents. There was smoke, someone’s dismal attempt at a campfire, but most didn’t bother, nothing anywhere near them that would burn. He shivered, as his men did, pulled at the rubber raincoat that few others had, f...elt that pang of guilt, always, never took for granted that just by the formality of his gray uniform, a division commander deserved the luxuries. In this weather, a dry shirt might be as much luxury as his men would hope for. That, and something more than a single ear of corn for a day’s rations.
He looked back, saw Captain Buck leaning low from his saddle, speaking to an officer. Cleburne pulled at the reins, halting the horse, watched, wondered if there was some business that required his attention.MoreLess
He looked back, saw Captain Buck leaning low from his saddle, speaking to an officer. Cleburne pulled at the reins, halting the horse, watched, wondered if there was some business that required his attention.MoreLess
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