A Baffled Ambuscade





Connecting Readyville and Woodbury was a good, hard turnpike nine or

ten miles long. Readyville was an outpost of the Federal army at

Murfreesboro; Woodbury had the same relation to the Confederate army

at Tullahoma. For months after the big battle at Stone River these

outposts were in constant quarrel, most of the trouble occurring,

naturally, on the turnpike mentioned, between detachments of

cavalry. Sometimes the infantry and artillery took a hand in the

game by way of showing their good-will.



One night a squadron of Federal horse commanded by Major Seidel, a

gallant and skillful officer, moved out from Readyville on an

uncommonly hazardous enterprise requiring secrecy, caution and

silence.



Passing the infantry pickets, the detachment soon afterward

approached two cavalry videttes staring hard into the darkness

ahead. There should have been three.



"Where is your other man?" said the major. "I ordered Dunning to be

here to-night."



"He rode forward, sir," the man replied. "There was a little firing

afterward, but it was a long way to the front."



"It was against orders and against sense for Dunning to do that,"

said the officer, obviously vexed. "Why did he ride forward?"



"Don't know, sir; he seemed mighty restless. Guess he was skeered."



When this remarkable reasoner and his companion had been absorbed

into the expeditionary force, it resumed its advance. Conversation

was forbidden; arms and accouterments were denied the right to

rattle. The horses' tramping was all that could be heard and the

movement was slow in order to have as little as possible of that.

It was after midnight and pretty dark, although there was a bit of

moon somewhere behind the masses of cloud.



Two or three miles along, the head of the column approached a dense

forest of cedars bordering the road on both sides. The major

commanded a halt by merely halting, and, evidently himself a bit

"skeered," rode on alone to reconnoiter. He was followed, however,

by his adjutant and three troopers, who remained a little distance

behind and, unseen by him, saw all that occurred.



After riding about a hundred yards toward the forest, the major

suddenly and sharply reined in his horse and sat motionless in the

saddle. Near the side of the road, in a little open space and

hardly ten paces away, stood the figure of a man, dimly visible and

as motionless as he. The major's first feeling was that of

satisfaction in having left his cavalcade behind; if this were an

enemy and should escape he would have little to report. The

expedition was as yet undetected.



Some dark object was dimly discernible at the man's feet; the

officer could not make it out. With the instinct of the true

cavalryman and a particular indisposition to the discharge of

firearms, he drew his saber. The man on foot made no movement in

answer to the challenge. The situation was tense and a bit

dramatic. Suddenly the moon burst through a rift in the clouds and,

himself in the shadow of a group of great oaks, the horseman saw the

footman clearly, in a patch of white light. It was Trooper Dunning,

unarmed and bareheaded. The object at his feet resolved itself into

a dead horse, and at a right angle across the animal's neck lay a

dead man, face upward in the moonlight.



"Dunning has had the fight of his life," thought the major, and was

about to ride forward. Dunning raised his hand, motioning him back

with a gesture of warning; then, lowering the arm, he pointed to the

place where the road lost itself in the blackness of the cedar

forest.



The major understood, and turning his horse rode back to the little

group that had followed him and was already moving to the rear in

fear of his displeasure, and so returned to the head of his command.



"Dunning is just ahead there," he said to the captain of his leading

company. "He has killed his man and will have something to report."



Right patiently they waited, sabers drawn, but Dunning did not come.

In an hour the day broke and the whole force moved cautiously

forward, its commander not altogether satisfied with his faith in

Private Dunning. The expedition had failed, but something remained

to be done.



In the little open space off the road they found the fallen horse.

At a right angle across the animal's neck face upward, a bullet in

the brain, lay the body of Trooper Dunning, stiff as a statue, hours

dead.



Examination disclosed abundant evidence that within a half-hour the

cedar forest had been occupied by a strong force of Confederate

infantry--an ambuscade.





'the Foul Fords' Or The Longformacus Farrier A C----] facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmail

Feedback