Love under Fire by Randall Parrish
page 129 of 317 (40%)
page 129 of 317 (40%)
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probability was strongly against success. Reckless audacity, coupled
with rare good fortune, might result in our return with the prisoner sought, but it was far more likely that we would be the ones captured, if we escaped with our lives. Yet this knowledge caused no hesitancy on my part; I was trained to obedience, and deep down in my heart welcomed the opportunity. The excitement appealed to me, and the knowledge that this service was to be performed directly under the eye of the great General of the West, was in itself an inspiration. If I lived to come back it meant promotion, the praise of the army, a line on the page of history--enough surely to arouse the ambition of youth. It was early in the afternoon when I reached the position of my regiment, and reported to the colonel, asking the privilege of selecting a detail. Then, as I sat at mess, I studied my men, mentally picking from among them those best adapted to the desperate task. I chose those I had seen in action, young, unmarried fellows, and for "non-com," Sergeant Miles, a slender, silent man of thirty, in whom I had implicit confidence. I checked the names over, satisfying myself I had made no mistake. Leaving Miles to notify these fellows, and prepare them for service, I crossed to the colonel's tent in search of the ex-slave. He was easily found. "Le Gaire," I began, choking a bit at the name, "do you remember a big white house, on the right of the pike, the first beyond a log church, south from the Three Corners?" He looked up from his work with sparkling eyes. "I suah does; I reckon I could find dat place in de dark." |
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