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Chapter 18

           Inawarmsteamingrainthenextday,thedefeatedarmypouredthoughAtlantabythousands,exhaustedbyhungerandweariness,depletedbyseventy-sixdaysofbattleandretreat,theirhorsesstarvedscarecrows,theircannonandcaissonsharnessedwithoddsandendsofropeandstripsofrawhide.Buttheydidnotcomeinasdisorderlyrabble,infullrout.Theymarchedingoodorder,jauntyforalltheirrags,theirtornredbattleflagsflyingintherain.TheyhadlearnedretreatingunderOldJoe,whohadmadeitasgreatafeatofstrategyasadvancing.Thebearded,shabbyfilesswungdownPeachtreeStreettothetuneof"Maryland!MyMaryland!"andallthetownturnedouttocheerthem.Invictoryordefeat,theyweretheirboys.

           Thestatemilitiawhohadgoneoutsoshortatimebefore,resplendentinnewuniforms,couldhardlybedistinguishedfromtheseasonedtroops,sodirtyandunkemptwerethey.Therewasanewlookintheireyes.Threeyearsofapologizing,ofexplainingwhytheywerenotatthefrontwasbehindthemnow.Theyhadtradedsecuritybehindthelinesforthehardshipsofbattle.Manyoftheirnumberhadtradedeasylivingforharddeath.Theywereveteransnow,veteransofbriefservice,butveteransjustthesame,andtheyhadacquittedthemselveswell.Theysearchedoutthefacesoffriendsinthecrowdandstaredatthemproudly,defiantly.Theycouldholduptheirheadsnow.

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