THE MAIDEN WATERS OF ANTIETAM

I drew my pistol to fire on the latest Rebel attack charging across the little bridge over the maiden waters of Antietam Creek. An intense movement out of the corner of one eye caught my attention. I turned to face a Union sergeant rearing up on his horse next to me.

     "Sergeant," I snapped, yanking the tiny cigar from my mouth. "You want to get your damn fool head blown clean off sneaking up on me that way?"

     "Captain Lee, sir," the rider called out, "I regret to inform you of the death of Major Wilshire. You have now assumed command of the Maryland Third Infantry. What are your orders, sir?" He snapped a quick salute.

     Something hit my gut, and lucky for me it wasn't a Confederate bullet. Dan Wilshire stood as more than my commanding officer. His friendship had gone beyond mentoring me for command. Now he left me to lead the infantry regiment, and quite frankly, doubts abounded whether I could manage it. My squelched feelings hidden behind a grin.

     "First off, Sergeant, get down off that horse before you take a damn Confederate bullet."

     The sergeant dismounted, drew his rifle from its sheath alongside the saddle, and leaned against the rock barricade the Maryland Third had constructed to ward off Rebel attacks.

     I let loose another round at Johnny Reb. "What's your name, Sergeant?"

     "Luke Harrigan," he replied, raising his rifle above the barricade. He fired and turned to me. "I'm assigning myself to you as your personal assistant."

     Concentrating on firing, I didn't look at him. "Orders from President Lincoln?"

     "No, sir. No offense meant, sir, but I think you can use the assistance."

     "None taken."

     "You're stuck with the command and you know what they say, sir; mother is a necessary invention."

     "You mean necessity is the mother of invention?"

      "Did I say that wrong, sir?"

     His searing eyes burned the side of my face. "Look, I don't know what you're getting at. I may have only been in this man's army for three months, but I know I don't need a nursemaid."

     A Rebel shell exploded in front of the barricade forcing us to lunge for the ground. We lay head to head and looked to see the physical condition of the other. Sergeant Harrigan grinned like the wild Irishman he probably was.

     "It's more than just being a greenhorn, sir. I got a feeling about you. I don't know what it is, but I'm seldom wrong."

     His glaring smile increased my sweat. I didn't like people prying into my past. My comrades in arms may have thought my age insufficient for officer material. They may have thought it suspicious that I seemed to come out of nowhere. So I did to Sergeant Harrigan what I had learned to do to anyone who got too personal-too close-too inquisitive.

     "Look, Harrigan, now that I'm in charge, there's something I want to try. I'll be honest and tell you that the major would have none of it, but, as you said, out of necessity I'm in command. If you want to assist me, then give me your honest opinion. Everyone knows the sergeants run the army."

     Harrigan never lost his smile. "Captain, that cigar doesn't suit you."

     I pitched the cigar over the barricade. "Just hush, Sergeant, and listen." Another shell exploded behind the bulwark and forced our arms over our heads. Brushing off the dirt, I started talking before the sergeant could continue his prying.

     "Sergeant, I want to send the majority of our unit downstream, cross the creek, and come up behind the Rebs."

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