Read Rally Cry for Free Online

what's coming," Andrew said. "Tell me if it looks like anything you've ever seen."
    He already had a strange suspicion, but immediately pushed the thought aside; it was simply too absurd.
    Racing ahead, all dignity forgotten for the moment, Andrew rushed to the entryway of the fortified position.
    "Hans! Sound assembly!" Andrew roared.
    The clarion notes of the bugle and the long roll of the drum sounded. With the first note, Andrew felt a shiver run down his back. Suddenly the racing panic in his heart stilled; a crystal clarity of vision came over him.
    The encampment exploded into action. Men raced to pull on their jackets, snatch up muskets, and sling on cartridge boxes.
    Following the lead of the infantry, O'Donald called for the two pieces already ashore to be wheeled into their emplacement. Then he led his command to fall in by the men of the 35th.
    Within seconds the old ritual, which they had acted out hundreds of times before, was played out: the ranks forming, muskets being grounded, the men dressing the line. Then when all were in place each company snapped to attention, their company commanders turning and coming to attention when all was in order.
    A hush spread across the field, and in the silence, they all heard for the first time a distant sound which every veteran knew: the sound of an army advancing in their direction.
    Andrew surveyed the line of five hundred men who were his, and the eighty men of O'Donald's command behind them. Every other time, it had been easy enough to explain what they were about to face; orders from above would tell him where the rebs were, and whether he was to hold or attack. There'd be a couple of comments about the honor of the regiment and the pride of being from Maine , and then they would move in.
    But this was different. Heaven help them all, what could he say? He paused, trying to collect his thoughts. The men started to look uneasily at each other, while in the distance the rumble of the approaching host grew louder and louder.
    There was no brigadier above him now, nor regiments falling in to either flank. This time he was alone, just as at Gettysburg, and the decision was his.
    "Uncase the colors!" Andrew roared.
    A stir went down the line as the standard-bearers lowered their staffs. Men to either side rushed out to pull off the flag casings. In the faint afternoon breeze the blue flag of Maine snapped out. It was followed seconds later by the shot-torn national standard; emblazoned upon its stripes in gold lettering were the names of a dozen hard-fought actions which the regiment had survived with honor.
    The men looked to each other, some eagerly, others pale with nervousness; uncasing the colors usually meant action was in front of them.
    "Look to those colors, boys!" Andrew shouted, and as one each man's gaze turned to the standards they had followed across countless fields of action.
    Andrew knew it was a rhetorical flourish, but he had to start somewhere, and for the men of his regiment—of any regiment— the shot-torn flags were symbols of pride and honor.
    "There is a lot I cannot explain to you now," Andrew continued. "You'll see things you might not believe or understand at first. All I ask is that you obey my commands. Just trust me, lads, as you have on every field of action. Follow my orders, and I'll see all of us through this."
    He fell silent. This wasn't the typical flag, Maine , and the Union speech. He sensed their uneasiness, but there wasn't time to explain further.
    "Companies C through F, deploy to the east wall. H through K, to the west wall. I want A and B, with the colors, in reserve in the center. Major O'Donald! To me, please! Now fall into position, boys!"
    The encampment became a wild explosion of movement as the formation broke and men ran to their positions.
    "What is it, colonel?" Pat said, coming up to join him.
    "Look, Pat, I can't explain the situation now—I still don't understand it myself. We'll just have to wait and see. Let's