From the noise in the woods, there was no hurry reaching the Rebel battle line; Pace was evidently having trouble marching his troops among the trees. Robert paid scant attention to the lieutenant’s problems beyond the hint that the boy’s frustration was growing; he was watching the shifting shadows of the woods, seeming to step away from trees and watch the progress of the living, more blatantly than he had ever seen on the island.

There was no time to consider the ramifications of moving shadows and the destination of the dead, frankly Robert no longer cared; he would join them soon enough. The time for thought had passed and the requirement for action was upon them all. Robert preferred it this way yet the wait before battle was the worse part of war.

The two men walked out of the trees and onto a windswept field with deep, naturally sculpted snow that resembled waves crossing the land. Only the tracks left by the Rebel troops marred the beauty of the pristine surface. On the far side of the field the Rebel troops waited for the call to arms, steam from their breath whisked away in the wind, the men hunched low to avoid the wind.

Robert and Anders crossed the few hundred feet of the field at a casual pace, working their way into deep snow, unhurried by the slow Union pursuit. Trees this close to the northern shore of the island were stunted by the winds and storms that buffeted the island, the tallest tree only thirty feet of twisted and gnarled branches.

In the sky, the wall of clouds forming the leading edge of the storm seemed at the edge of Coal Island, with snowflakes fluttering in the air. The presence of the storm seemed appropriate for the coming battle.

Robert waved his arms up and the troops obediently rose to their feet.

“Skirmishers, take your positions, then kneel.” Robert’s voice rode over the wind, clearly heard. He waited for the skirmishers to pass by, then waved to the rest of the troops. “Single line formation, five paces out from the wood line.” He turned to Anders. “Take the left flank. Remember, we may sweep the Union position. Take as many men as you need to do it; the rest of us will keep them pinned to the ground.” It was a risk to split his force, then push the Union line, but it was an effective way to panic an enemy unaccustomed to war. Anders nodded and began his walk to the flank of the rebel formation.

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The men formed a single line of one hundred and eighty men standing with a foot space between each man. There was method to this madness, an extended line of rifles with unimpeded view and room to move; for the Union troops, it would be like trying to shoot at the individual pickets of a fence. All the men seemed pale in the snow, each wearing gray of some form. This too would make them harder to target if the snow thickened; former guards wearing gray blankets across their shoulders.

They all moved into position as Lieutenant Anders crossed to the left and Robert stood at the center several paces ahead of his men and behind the skirmish line.

Time dragged as the wait continued and the snowfall increased.

“Did he get lost?” someone shouted from the ranks, generating laughter.

The first Union troops exited the southern tree line, and the laughter stopped.

Robert faced his troops. “Aim a foot above their heads.”

“Sir,” the men chorused. All save a handful of these men had endured war and knew what to expect in the coming minutes. They stood strong and proud, trusting in Robert’s abilities just as they would have stood with Stonewall Jackson or Robert E. Lee. It was the man at the head of the formation that brought inspiration to men with the sheer power of his presence; these men knew they stood behind no coward.

Union troops continued to file from the trees, forming two rows of men; two files of armed men, the second row hindered by the first, the mistake of an inexperienced commander.

Eventually, three hundred Union soldiers stood opposite the Rebels on the edge of the range of their rifles, their line shorter than the rebels, with men tightly packed and only the front line able to fire; one hundred and fifty Union men firing compared to one hundred and eighty Rebel guns.

The first shot had yet to be fired, and the battle lost for the Union.