Dru march upon New York and the other unprotected seaboard cities. He
saw, too, that he had been outgeneraled, and that he should have thrown
his line across Dru's path and given battle at a point of his own
choosing.
The situation was a most unusual one even in the complex history of
warfare, because in case of defeat the loser would be forced to retreat
into the enemies' country. It all the more surely emphasized the fact
that one great battle would determine the war. General Dru knew from the
first what must follow his movement in marching by General Newton, and
since he had now reached the ground that he had long chosen as the place
where he wished the battle to occur, he halted and arranged his troops
in formation for the expected attack.
There was a curious feeling of exultation and confidence throughout the
insurgent army, for Dru had conducted every move in the great game with
masterly skill, and no man was ever more the idol of his troops, or of
the people whose cause he was the champion.
It was told at every camp fire in his army how he had won the last medal
that had been given by the War Department and for which General Newton
had been a contestant, and not one of his men doubted that as a military
genius, Newton in no way measured up to Dru. It was plain that Newton
had been outmaneuvered and that the advantage lay with the insurgent
forces.
The day before the expected battle, General Dru issued a stirring
address, which was placed in the hands of each soldier, and which
concluded as follows:--"It is now certain that there will be but one
battle, and its result lies with you. If you fight as I know you will
fight, you surely will be successful, and you soon will be able to
return to your homes and to your families, carrying with you the
assurance that you have won what will be perhaps the most important
victory that has ever been achieved. It is my belief that human liberty
has never more surely hung upon the outcome of any conflict than it does
upon this, and I have faith that when you are once ordered to advance,
you will never turn back. If you will each make a resolution to conquer
or die, you will not only conquer, but our death list will not be nearly
so heavy as if you at any time falter."
This address was received with enthusiasm, and comrade declared to
comrade that there would be no turning back when once called upon to
advance, and it was a compact that in honor could not be broken. This,
then, was the situation upon the eve of the mighty conflict.
CHAPTER XXII
THE BATTLE OF ELMA
General Dru had many spies in the enemies' camp, and some of these
succeeded in crossing the lines each night in order to give him what
information they had been able to gather.
Some of these spies passed through the lines as late as eleven o'clock
the night before the battle, and from them he learned that a general
attack was to be made upon him the next day at six o'clock in the
morning.
As far as he could gather, and from his own knowledge of the situation,
it was General Newton's purpose to break his center. The reason Newton
had this in mind was that he thought Dru's line was far flung, and he
believed that if he could drive through the center, he could then throw
each wing into confusion and bring about a crushing defeat.
As a matter of fact, Dru's line was not far flung, but he had a few
troops strung out for many miles in order to deceive Newton, because he
wanted him to try and break his center.
Up to this time, he had taken no one into his confidence, but at
midnight, he called his division commanders to his headquarters and told
them his plan of battle.
They were instructed not to impart any information to the commanders of
brigades until two o'clock. The men were then to be aroused and given a
hasty breakfast, after which they were to be ready to march by three
o'clock.
Recent arrivals had augmented his army to approximately five hundred
thousand men. General Newton had, as far as he could learn,
approximately six hundred thousand, so there were more than a million of
men facing one another.
Dru had a two-fold purpose in preparing at three in the morning. First,
he wanted to take no chances upon General Newton's time of attack. His
information as to six o'clock he thought reliable, but it might have
been given out to deceive him and a much earlier engagement might be
contemplated.
His other reason was that he intended to flank Newton on both wings.
It was his purpose to send, under cover of night, one hundred and
twenty-five thousand men to the right of Newton and one hundred and
twenty-five thousand to his left, and have them conceal themselves
behind wooded hills until noon, and then to drive in on him from both
sides.
He was confident that with two hundred and fifty thousand determined
men, protected by the fortifications he had been able to erect, and
with the ground of his own choosing, which had a considerable elevation
over the valley through which Newton would have to march, he could hold
his position until noon. He did not count upon actual fighting before
eight o'clock, or perhaps not before nine.
Dru did not attempt to rest, but continued through the night to instruct
his staff officers, and to arrange, as far as he could, for each
contingency. Before two o'clock, he was satisfied with the situation and
felt assured of victory.
He was pleased to see the early morning hours develop a fog, for this
would cover the march of his left and right wings, and they would not
have to make so wide a detour in order that their movements might be
concealed. It would also delay, he thought, Newton's attack.
His army was up and alert at three, and by four o'clock those that were
to hold the center were in position, though he had them lie down again
on their arms, so that they might get every moment of rest. Three
o'clock saw the troops that were to flank the enemy already on the
march.
At six-thirty his outposts reported Newton's army moving, but it was
nine o'clock before they came within touch of his troops.
In the meantime, his men were resting, and he had food served them again
as late as seven o'clock.
Newton attacked the center viciously at first, but making no headway and
seeing that his men were being terribly decimated, he made a detour to
the right, and, with cavalry, infantry and artillery, he drove Dru's
troops in from the position which they were holding.
Dru recognized the threatened danger and sent heliograph messages to his
right and left wings to begin their attack, though it was now only
eleven o'clock. He then rode in person to the point of danger, and
rallied his men to a firmer stand, upon which Newton could make no
headway.
In that hell storm of lead and steel Dru sat upon his horse unmoved.
With bared head and eyes aflame, with face flushed and exultant, he
looked the embodiment of the terrible God of War. His presence and his
disregard of danger incited his soldiers to deeds of valor that would
forever be an "inspiration and a benediction" to the race from which
they sprung.
Newton, seeing that his efforts were costing him too dearly, decided to
withdraw his troops and rest until the next day, when he thought to
attack Dru from the rear.
The ground was more advantageous there, and he felt confident he could
dislodge him. When he gave the command to retreat, he was surprised to
find Dru massing his troops outside his entrenchments and preparing to
follow him. He slowly retreated and Dru as slowly followed. Newton
wanted to get him well away from his stronghold and in the open plain,
and then wheel and crush him. Dru was merely keeping within striking
distance, so that when his two divisions got in touch with Newton they
would be able to attack him on three sides.
Just as Newton was about to turn, Dru's two divisions poured down the
slopes of the hills on both sides and began to charge. And when Dru's
center began to charge, it was only a matter of moments before Newton's
army was in a panic.
He tried to rally them and to face the on-coming enemy, but his efforts
were in vain. His men threw down their guns, some surrendering, but most
of them fleeing in the only way open, that towards the rear and the
Lake.
Dru's soldiers saw that victory was theirs, and, maddened by the lust of
war, they drove the Government forces back, killing and crushing the
seething and helpless mass that was now in hopeless confusion.
Orders were given by General Dru to push on and follow the enemy until
nightfall, or until the Lake was reached, where they must surrender or
drown.
By six o'clock of that fateful day, the splendid army of Newton was a
thing for pity, for Dru had determined to exhaust the last drop of
strength of his men to make the victory complete, and the battle
conclusive.
At the same time, as far as he was able, he restrained his men from
killing, for he saw that the enemy were without arms, and thinking only
of escape. His order was only partially obeyed, for when man is in
conflict with either beast or fellowman, the primitive lust for blood
comes to the fore, and the gentlest and most humane are oftentimes the
most bloodthirsty.
Of the enemy forty thousand were dead and two hundred and ten thousand
were wounded with seventy-five thousand missing. Of prisoners Dru had
captured three hundred and seventy-five thousand.
General Newton was killed in the early afternoon, soon after the rout
began.
Philip's casualties were twenty-three thousand dead and one hundred and
ten thousand wounded.
It was a holocaust, but the war was indeed ended.
CHAPTER XXIII
ELMA'S AFTERMATH
After General Dru had given orders for the care of the wounded and the
disposition of the prisoners, he dismissed his staff and went quietly
out into the starlight. He walked among the dead and wounded and saw
that everything possible was being done to alleviate suffering. Feeling
weary he sat for a moment upon a dismembered gun.
As he looked over the field of carnage and saw what havoc the day had
made, he thought of the Selwyns and the Thors, whose selfishness and
greed were responsible for it all, and he knew that they and their kind
would have to meet an awful charge before the judgment seat of God.
Within touch of him lay a boy of not more than seventeen, with his white
face turned towards the stars. One arm was shattered and a piece of
shell had torn a great red wound in the side of his chest. Dru thought
him dead, but he saw him move and open his eyes. He removed a coat from
a soldier that lay dead beside him and pillowed the boy's head upon it,
and gave him some water and a little brandy.
"I am all in, Captain," said he, "but I would like a message sent home."
He saw that Dru was an officer but he had no idea who he was. "I only
enlisted last week. I live in Pennsylvania--not far from here." Then
more faintly--"My mother tried to persuade me to remain at home, but I
wanted to do my share, so here I am--as you find me. Tell her--tell
her," but the message never came--for he was dead.
After he had covered the pain-racked, ghastly face, Dru sat in silent
meditation, and thought of the shame of it, the pity of it all.
Somewhere amongst that human wreckage he knew Gloria was doing what she
could to comfort the wounded and those that were in the agony of death.
She had joined the Red Cross Corps of the insurgent army at the
beginning of hostilities, but Dru had had only occasional glimpses of
her. He was wondering now, in what part of that black and bloody field
she was. His was the strong hand that had torn into fragments these
helpless creatures; hers was the gentle hand that was softening the
horror, the misery of it all. Dru knew there were those who felt that
the result would never be worth the cost and that he, too, would come in
for a measurable share of their censure. But deep and lasting as his
sympathy was for those who had been brought into this maelstrom of war,
yet, pessimism found no lodgment within him, rather was his great soul
illuminated with the thought that with splendid heroism they had died in
order that others might live the better. Twice before had the great
republic been baptized in blood and each time the result had changed the
thought and destiny of man. And so would it be now, only to greater
purpose. Never again would the Selwyns and the Thors be able to fetter
the people.
Free and unrestrained by barriers erected by the powerful, for selfish
purposes, there would now lie open to them a glorious and contented
future. He had it in his thoughts to do the work well now that it had
been begun, and to permit no misplaced sentiment to deter him. He knew
that in order to do what he had in mind, he would have to reckon with
the habits and traditions of centuries, but, seeing clearly the task
before him he must needs become an iconoclast and accept the
consequences. For two days and nights he had been without sleep and
under a physical and mental strain that would have meant disaster to
any, save Philip Dru. But now he began to feel the need of rest and
sleep, so he walked slowly back to his tent.
After giving orders that he was not to be disturbed, he threw himself as
he was upon his camp bed, and, oblivious of the fact that the news of
his momentous victory had circled the globe and that his name was upon
the lips of half the world, he fell into a dreamless, restful sleep.
CHAPTER XXIV
UNCROWNED HEROES
When Dru wakened in the morning after a long and refreshing sleep, his
first thoughts were of Gloria Strawn. Before leaving his tent he wrote
her an invitation to dine with him that evening in company with some of
his generals and their wives. All through that busy day Dru found
himself looking forward to the coming evening. When Gloria came Dru was
standing at the door of his tent to meet her. As he helped her from the
army conveyance she said:
