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War Between The States
Ambrose Bierce
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Contents
Resumed IdentityTough TussleBaffled Ambuscade
Bivouac of the DeadLittle of Chickamaugae Affair At Coulter'sHorseman in the Skyn Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridgee Mocking-Birdhat Occurred at Frankline Other Lodgers
e Crime at Pickett's Millhat I Saw of ShilohSon of the Godsree And One Are One
wo Military Executions
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A Resumed Identity
he Review as a Form of Welcome
ne summer night a man stood on a low hill overlooking a wid
xpanse of forest and field. By the full moon hanging low in the wee knew what he might not have known otherwise: that it was nea
e hour of dawn. A light mist lay along the earth, partly veiling th
wer features of the landscape, but above it the taller trees showe
well-defined masses against a clear sky. Two or three farmhouse
ere visible through the haze, but in none of them, naturally, was
ht. Nowhere, indeed, was any sign or suggestion of life except tharking of a distant dog, which, repeated with mechanical iteratio
erved rather to accentuate than dispel the loneliness of the scene.
he man looked curiously about him on all sides, as one who amon
miliar surroundings is unable to determine his exact place and pa
the scheme of things. It is so, perhaps, that we shall act whe
sen from the dead, we await the call to judgment.
hundred yards away was a straight road, showing white in th
oonlight. Endeavouring to orient himself, as a surveyor or navigato
ight say, the man moved his eyes slowly along its visible length an
a distance of a quarter-mile to the south of his station saw, dim
nd grey in the haze, a group of horsemen riding to the north. Behinem were men afoot, marching in column, with dimly gleaming rifle
slant above their shoulders. They moved slowly and in silenc
nother group of horsemen, another regiment of infantry, anothe
nd another--all in unceasing motion toward the man's point of view
ast it, and beyond. A battery of artillery followed, the cannoneer
ding with folded arms on limber and caisson. And still thterminable procession came out of the obscurity to south an
assed into the obscurit to north, with never a sound of voice, no
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oof, nor wheel.
he man could not rightly understand: he thought himself deaf; sa
o, and heard his own voice, although it had an unfamiliar quality th
most alarmed him; it disappointed his ear's expectancy in th
atter of timbre and resonance. But he was not deaf, and that for th
oment sufficed.
hen he remembered that there are natural phenomena to whic
ome one has given the name 'acoustic shadows.' If you stand in a
coustic shadow there is one direction from which you will hea
othing. At the battle of Gaines's Mill, one of the fiercest conflicts o
e Civil War, with a hundred guns in play, spectators a mile and alf away on the opposite side of the Chickahominy Valley hear
othing of what they clearly saw. The bombardment of Port Roya
eard and felt at St. Augustine, a hundred and fifty miles to the sout
as inaudible two miles to the north in a still atmosphere. A few day
efore the surrender at Appomattox a thunderous engagemen
etween the commands of Sheridan and Pickett was unknown to th
tter commander, a mile in the rear of his own line.
hese instances were not known to the man of whom we write, b
ss striking ones of the same character had not escaped h
bservation. He was profoundly disquieted, but for another reaso
an the uncanny silence of that moonlight march.
ood Lord! ' he said to himself--and again it was as if another ha
poken his thought--'if those people are what I take them to be w
ave lost the battle and they are moving on Nashville!'
hen came a thought of self--an apprehension--a strong sense
ersonal peril, such as in another we call fear. He stepped quick
to the shadow of a tree. And still the silent battalions moved slowrward in the haze.
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he chill of a sudden breeze upon the back of his neck drew h
tention to the quarter whence it came, and turning to the east h
aw a faint grey light along the horizon--the first sign of returning day
his increased his apprehension.
must get away from here,' he thought, 'or I shall be discovered anken.'
e moved out of the shadow, walking rapidly toward the greyin
ast. From the safer seclusion of a clump of cedars he looked bac
he entire column had passed out of sight: the straight white road la
are and desolate in the moonlight!
uzzled before, he was now inexpressibly astonished. So swift
assing of so slow an army!--he could not comprehend it. Minu
ter minute passed unnoted; he had lost his sense of time. H
ought with a terrible earnestness a solution of the mystery, b
ought in vain. When at last he roused himself from his abstractio
e sun's rim was visible above the hills, but in the new conditions hund no other light than that of day; his understanding was involve
s darkly in doubt as before.
n every side lay cultivated fields showing no sign of war and war
vages. From the chimneys of the farmhouses thin ascensions
ue smoke signalled preparations for a day's peaceful toil. Havin
lled its immemorial allocution to the moon, the watch-dog wassisting a negro who, prefixing a team of mules to the plough, wa
atting and sharping contentedly at his task. The hero of this ta
ared stupidly at the pastoral picture as if he had never seen such
ing in all his life; then he put his hand to his head, passed it throug
s hair and, withdrawing it, attentively considered the palm--
ngular thing to do. Apparently reassured by the act, he walkeonfidently toward the road.
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When You have Lost Your Life Consult a Physician
r. Stilling Malson, of Murfreesboro, having visited a patient six o
even miles away, on the Nashville road, had remained with him a
ght. At daybreak he set out for home on horseback, as was th
ustom of doctors of the time and region. He had passed into th
eighbourhood of Stone's River battlefield when a man approachem from the roadside and saluted in the military fashion, with
ovement of the right hand to the hat-brim. But the hat was not
ilitary hat, the man was not in uniform and had not a marti
earing. The doctor nodded civilly, half thinking that the stranger
ncommon greeting was perhaps in deference to the histor
urroundings. As the stranger evidently desired speech with him hourteously reined in his horse and waited.
ir,' said the stranger, 'although a civilian, you are perhaps a
nemy.'
am a physician,' was the non-committal reply.
hank you,' said the other. 'I am a lieutenant, of the staff of Gener
azen.' He paused a moment and looked sharply at the perso
hom he was addressing, then added, 'Of the Federal army.' Th
hysician merely nodded.
indly tell me,' continued the other, 'what has happened here. Wher
e the armies? Which has won the battle?'
he physician regarded his questioner curiously with half-shut eye
fter a professional scrutiny, prolonged to the limit of politenes
ardon me,' he said; 'one asking information should be willing t
mpart it. Are you wounded?' he added, smiling.
ot seriously--it seems.'
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he man removed the unmilitary hat, put his hand to his hea
assed it through his hair and, withdrawing it, attentively considere
e palm.
was struck by a bullet and have been unconscious. It must hav
een a light, glancing blow: I find no blood and feel no pain. I will n
ouble you for treatment, but will you kindly direct me to mommand--to any part of the Federal army--if you know?'
gain the doctor did not immediately reply: he was recalling muc
at is recorded in the books of his profession--something about lo
entity and the effect of familiar scenes in restoring it. At length h
oked the man in the face, smiled, and said:
eutenant, you are not wearing the uniform of your rank an
ervice.'
this the man glanced down at his civilian attire, lifted his eyes, an
aid with hesitation:
hat is true. I--I don't quite understand.'
ill regarding him sharply but not unsympathetically, the man o
cience bluntly inquired:
ow old are you?'
wenty-three--if that has anything to do with it.'
ou don't look it; I should hardly have guessed you to be just that.'
he man was growing impatient. 'We need not discuss that,' he sai
want to know about the army. Not two hours ago I saw a column o
oops moving northward on this road. You must have met them. B
ood enough to tell me the colour of their clothing, which I was unab
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make out, and I'll trouble you no more.'
ou are quite sure that you saw them?'
ure? My God, sir, I could have counted them!'
Why, really,' said the physician, with an amusing consciousness os own resemblance to the loquacious barber of the Arabian Night
is is very interesting. I met no troops.'
he man looked at him coldly, as if he had himself observed th
eness to the barber. 'It is plain,' he said, 'that you do not care t
ssist me. Sir, you may go to the devil!'
e turned and strode away, very much at random, across the dew
elds, his half-penitent tormentor quietly watching him from his poi
vantage in the saddle till he disappeared beyond an array of tree
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The Danger of Looking into aPool of Water
fter leaving the road the man slackened his pace, and now we
rward, rather deviously, with a distinct feeling of fatigue. He couot account for this, though truly the interminable loquacity of th
ountry doctor offered itself in explanation. Seating himself upon
ck, he laid one hand upon his knee, back upward, and casual
oked at it. It was lean and withered. He lifted both hands to h
ce. It was seamed and furrowed; he could trace the lines with th
ps of his fingers. How strange!--a mere bullet-stroke and a brinconsciousness should not make one a physical wreck.
must have been a long time in hospital,' he said aloud. 'Why, what
ol I am! The battle was in December, and it is now summer!' H
ughed. 'No wonder that fellow thought me an escaped lunatic. H
as wrong: I am only an escaped patient.'
t a little distance a small plot of ground enclosed by a stone wa
aught his attention. With no very definite intent he rose and went t
In the centre was a square, solid monument of hewn stone. It wa
own with age, weather-worn at the angles, spotted with moss an
hen. Between the massive blocks were strips of grass th
verage of whose roots had pushed them apart. In answer to thhallenge of this ambitious structure Time had laid his destroyin
and upon it, and it would soon be 'one with Nineveh and Tyre.' In a
scription on one side his eye caught a familiar name. Shaking wi
xcitement, he craned his body across the wall and read:
AZEN'S BRIGADE
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he Memory of Its Soldiers
ho fell at
tone River, Dec. 31, 1862.
he man fell back from the wall, faint and sick. Almost within an arm
ngth was a little depression in the earth; it had been filled by
cent rain--a pool of clear water. He crept to it to revive himse
ted the upper part of his body on his trembling arms, thrust forwa
s head and saw the reflection of his face, as in a mirror. He uttere
terrible cry. His arms gave way; he fell, face downward, into th
ool and yielded up the life that had spanned another life.
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A Tough Tussle
ne night in the autumn of 1861 a man sat alone in the heart of
rest in western Virginia. The region was one of the wildest on th
ontinent--the Cheat Mountain country. There was no lack of peop
ose at hand, however; within a mile of where the man sat was th
ow silent camp of a whole Federal brigade. Somewhere about-
ight be still nearer--was a force of the enemy, the number
nknown. It was this uncertainty as to its numbers and position th
ccounted for the man's presence in that lonely spot; he was a youn
ficer of a Federal infantry regiment and his business there was t
uard his sleeping comrades in the camp against a surprise. Has in command of a detachment of men constituting a picke
uard. These men he had stationed just at nightfall in an irregula
e, determined by the nature of the ground, several hundred yard
front of where he now sat. The line ran through the forest, amon
e rocks and laurel thickets, the men fifteen or twenty paces apa
in concealment and under injunction of strict silence annremitting vigilance. In four hours, if nothing occurred, they would b
lieved by a fresh detachment from the reserve now resting in ca
its captain some distance away to the left and rear. Befor
ationing his men the young officer of whom we are writing ha
ointed out to his two sergeants the spot at which he would be foun
t should be necessary to consult him, or if his presence at the fro
e should be required.
was a quiet enough spot--the fork of an old wood-road, on the tw
anches of which, prolonging themselves deviously forward in th
m moonlight, the sergeants were themselves stationed, a fe
aces in rear of the line. If driven sharply back by a sudden onset
e enemy--the pickets are not expected to make a stand after firinhe men would come into the converging roads and natura
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llowing them to their point of intersection could be rallied an
ormed.' In his small way the author of these dispositions wa
omething of a strategist; if Napoleon had planned as intelligently
Waterloo he would have won that memorable battle and bee
verthrown later.
econd-Lieutenant Brainerd Byring was a brave and efficient officeoung and comparatively inexperienced as he was in the business
ling his fellow-men. He had enlisted in the very first days of the wa
s a private, with no military knowledge whatever, had been mad
st-sergeant of his company on account of his education an
ngaging manner, and had been lucky enough to lose his captain b
Confederate bullet; in the resulting promotions he had gained ommission. He had been in several engagements, such as the
ere--at Philippi, Rich Mountain, Carrick's Ford and Greenbrier--an
ad borne himself with such gallantry as not to attract the attention
s superior officers. The exhilaration of battle was agreeable to him
ut the sight of the dead, with their clay faces, blank eyes and st
odies, which when not unnaturally shrunken were unnatura
wollen, had always intolerably affected him. He felt toward them
nd of reasonless antipathy that was something more than th
hysical and spiritual repugnance common to us all. Doubtless th
eling was due to his unusually acute sensibilities--his keen sens
the beautiful, which these hideous things outraged. Whatever ma
ave been the cause, he could not look upon a dead body without
athing which had in it an element of resentment. What others havspected as the dignity of death had to him no existence--wa
together unthinkable. Death was a thing to be hated. It was n
cturesque, it had no tender and solemn side--a dismal thin
deous in all its manifestations and suggestions. Lieutenant Byrin
as a braver man than anybody knew, for nobody knew his horror o
at which he was ever ready to incur.
avin osted his men, instructed his ser eants and retired to h
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ation, he seated himself on a log, and with senses all alert bega
s vigil. For greater ease he loosened his sword-belt and taking h
eavy revolver from his holster laid it on the log beside him. He fe
ery comfortable, though he hardly gave the fact a thought, so intent
d he listen for any sound from the front which might have
enacing significance--a shout, a shot, or the footfall of one of h
ergeants coming to apprise him of something worth knowing. Froe vast, invisible ocean of moonlight overhead fell, here and there,
ender, broken stream that seemed to plash against the interceptin
anches and trickle to earth, forming small white pools among th
umps of laurel. But these leaks were few and served only t
ccentuate the blackness of his environment, which his imaginatio
und it easy to people with all manner of unfamiliar shapeenacing, uncanny, or merely grotesque.
e to whom the portentous conspiracy of night and solitude an
ence in the heart of a great forest is not an unknown experienc
eeds not to be told what another world it all is--how even the mo
ommonplace and familiar objects take on another character. Th
ees group themselves differently; they draw closer together, as if
ar. The very silence has another quality than the silence of the day
nd it is full of half-heard whispers--whispers that startle--ghosts
ounds long dead. There are living sounds, too, such as are neve
eard under other conditions: notes of strange night-birds, the crie
small animals in sudden encounters with stealthy foes or in the
eams, a rustling in the dead leaves--it may be the leap of a woodt, it may be the footfall of a panther. What caused the breaking o
at twig?--what the low, alarmed twittering in that bushful of birds
here are sounds without a name, forms without substanc
anslations in space of objects which have not been seen to mov
ovements wherein nothing is observed to change its place. A
hildren of the sunlight and the gaslight, how little you know of thorld in which you live!
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urrounded at a little distance by armed and watchful friends, Byrin
lt utterly alone. Yielding himself to the solemn and mysterious spi
the time and place, he had forgotten the nature of his connectio
th the visible and audible aspects and phases of the night. Th
rest was boundless; men and the habitations of men did not exis
he universe was one primeval mystery of darkness, without for
nd void, himself the sole, dumb questioner of its eternal secre
bsorbed in thoughts born of this mood, he suffered the time to sl
way unnoted. Meantime the infrequent patches of white light lyin
mongst the tree-trunks had undergone changes of size, form an
ace. In one of them near by, just at the roadside, his eye fell upo
n object that he had not previously observed. It was almost befo
s face as he sat; he could have sworn that it had not before beeere. It was partly covered in shadow, but he could see that it was
uman figure. Instinctively he adjusted the clasp of his swordbelt an
d hold of his pistol--again he was in a world of war, by occupatio
n assassin.
he figure did not move. Rising, pistol in hand, he approached. Th
gure lay upon its back, its upper part in shadow, but standing abov
and looking down upon the face, he saw that it was a dead bod
e shuddered and turned from it with a feeling of sickness an
sgust, resumed his seat upon the log, and forgetting milita
udence struck a match and lit a cigar. In the sudden blackness tha
llowed the extinction of the flame he felt a sense of relief; he cou
o longer see the object of his aversion. Nevertheless, he kept hyes in that direction until it appeared again with growin
stinctness. It seemed to have moved a trifle nearer.
amn the thing!' he muttered. 'What does it want?'
did not appear to be in need of anything but a soul.
yring turned away his eyes and began humming a tune, but h
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oke off in the middle of a bar and looked at the dead body. It
esence annoyed him, though he could hardly have had a quiete
eighbour. He was conscious, too, of a vague, indefinable feelin
at was new to him. It was not fear, but rather a sense of th
upernatural--in which he did not at all believe.
have inherited it,' he said to himself. 'I suppose it will require ousand ages--perhaps ten thousand--for humanity to outgrow th
eling. Where and when did it originate? Away back, probably,
hat is called the cradle of the human race--the plains of Centr
sia. What we inherit as a superstition our barbarous ancesto
ust have held as a reasonable conviction. Doubtless they believe
emselves justified by facts whose nature we cannot eveonjecture in thinking a dead body a malign thing endowed wi
ome strange power of mischief, with perhaps a will and a purpos
exert it. Possibly they had some awful form of religion of which th
as one of the chief doctrines, sedulously taught by their priesthoo
s ours teach the immortality of the soul. As the Aryans moved slow
n, to and through the Caucasus passes, and spread over Europ
ew conditions of life must have resulted in the formulation of ne
ligions. The old belief in the malevolence of the dead body was lo
om the creeds and even perished from tradition but it left i
eritage of terror, which is transmitted from generation to generatio
s as much a part of us as are our blood and bones.'
following out his thought he had forgotten that which suggested ut now his eye fell again upon the corpse. The shadow had no
together uncovered it. He saw the sharp profile, the chin in the a
e whole face, ghastly white in the moonlight. The clothing was grey
e uniform of a Confederate soldier. The coat and waistcoa
nbuttoned, had fallen away on each side, exposing the white shi
he chest seemed unnaturally prominent, but the abdomen had sun, leaving a sharp projection at the line of the lower ribs. The arm
ere extended, the left knee was thrust u ward. The whole ostu
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mpressed Byring as having been studied with a view to the horrible
ah!' he exclaimed; 'he was an actor--he knows how to be dead.'
e drew away his eyes, directing them resolutely along one of th
ads leading to the front, and resumed his philosophizing where h
ad left off.
may be that our Central Asian ancestors had not the custom o
urial. In that case it is easy to understand their fear of the dead, wh
ally were a menace and an evil. They bred pestilences. Childre
ere taught to avoid the places where they lay, and to run away if b
advertence they came near a corpse. I think, indeed, I'd better g
way from this chap.'
e half rose to do so, then remembered that he had told his men
ont and the officer in the rear who was to relieve him that he cou
any time be found at that spot. It was a matter of pride, too. If h
bandoned his post he feared they would think he feared the corps
e was no coward and he was unwilling to incur anybody's ridiculo he again seated himself, and to prove his courage looked bold
the body. The right arm--the one farthest from him--was now
hadow. He could hardly see the hand which, he had befor
bserved, lay at the root of a clump of laurel. There had been n
hange, a fact which gave him a certain comfort, he could not hav
aid why. He did not at once remove his eyes; that which we do nosh to see has a strange fascination, sometimes irresistible. Of th
oman who covers her eyes with her hands and looks between th
ngers let it be said that the wits have dealt with her not altogethe
stly.
yring suddenly became conscious of a pain in his right hand. H
thdrew his eyes from his enemy and looked at it. He was graspine hilt of his drawn sword so tightly that it hurt him. He observed, to
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at he was leaning forward in a strained attitude--crouching like
adiator ready to spring at the throat of an antagonist. His tee
ere clenched and he was breathing hard. This matter was soon s
ght, and as his muscles relaxed and he drew a long breath he fe
eenly enough the ludicrousness of the incident. It affected him
ughter. Heavens! what sound was that? what mindless devil wa
tering an unholy glee in mockery of human merriment? He spranhis feet and looked about him, not recognizing his own laugh.
e could no longer conceal from himself the horrible fact of h
owardice; he was thoroughly frightened! He would have run from th
pot, but his legs refused their office; they gave way beneath him an
e sat again upon the log, violently trembling. His face was wet, hhole body bathed in a chill perspiration. He could not even cry ou
stinctly he heard behind him a stealthy tread, as of some wi
nimal, and dared not look over his shoulder. Had the soulless livin
ned forces with the soulless dead?--was it an animal? Ah, if h
ould but be assured of that! But by no effort of will could he no
nfix his gaze from the face of the dead man.
repeat that Lieutenant Byring was a brave and intelligent man. B
hat would you have? Shall a man cope, single-handed, with s
onstrous an alliance as that of night and solitude and silence an
e dead--while an incalculable host of his own ancestors shriek int
e ear of his spirit their coward counsel, sing their doleful death
ongs in his heart, and disarm his very blood of all its iron? The odde too great--courage was not made for so rough use as that.
ne sole conviction now had the man in possession: that the bod
ad moved. It lay nearer to the edge of its plot of light--there could b
o doubt of it. It had also moved its arms, for, look, they are both
e shadow! A breath of cold air struck Byring full in the face; th
oughs of trees above him stirred and moaned. A strongly define
hadow passed across the face of the dead, left it luminous, passe
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ack upon it and left it half obscured. The horrible thing was visib
oving! At that moment a single shot rang out upon the picket-line--
nelier and louder, though more distant, shot than ever had bee
eard by mortal ear! It broke the spell of that enchanted man; it sle
e silence and the solitude, dispersed the hindering host fro
entral Asia and released his modern manhood. With a cry like tha
some great bird pouncing upon its prey he sprang forward, hoearted for action!
hot after shot now came from the front. There were shoutings an
onfusion, hoof-beats and desultory cheers. Away to the rear, in th
eeping camp, were a singing of bugles and grumble of drum
ushing through the thickets on either side the roads came thederal pickets, in full retreat, firing backward at random as they ra
straggling group that had followed back one of the roads, a
structed, suddenly sprang away into the bushes as half a hundre
orsemen thundered by them, striking wildly with their sabres as the
assed. At headlong speed these mounted madmen shot past th
pot where Byring had sat, and vanished round an angle of the roa
houting and firing their pistols. A moment later there was a roar o
usketry, followed by dropping shots--they had encountered th
serve-guard in line; and back they came in dire confusion, wi
ere and there an empty saddle and many a maddened hors
ullet-stung, snorting and plunging with pain. It was all over--'an affa
out-posts.'
he line was re-established with fresh men, the roll called, th
ragglers were re-formed. The Federal commander, with a part o
s staff, imperfectly clad, appeared upon the scene, asked a fe
uestions, looked exceedingly wise and retired. After standing a
ms for an hour the brigade in camp 'swore a prayer or two' an
ent to bed.
arly the next morning a fatigue-party, commanded by a captain an
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ccompanied by a surgeon, searched the ground for dead an
ounded. At the fork of the road, a little to one side, they found tw
odies lying close together--that of a Federal officer and that of
onfederate private. The officer had died of a sword-thrust throug
e heart, but not, apparently, until he had inflicted upon his enemy n
wer than five dreadful wounds. The dead officer lay on his face in
ool of blood, the weapon still in his heart. They turned him on hack and the surgeon removed it.
ad!' said the captain--'It is Byring!'--adding, with a glance at th
her, 'They had a tough tussle.'
he surgeon was examining the sword. It was that of a line officer oederal infantry--exactly like the one worn by the captain. It was,
ct, Byring's own. The only other weapon discovered was a
ndischarged revolver in the dead officer's belt.
he surgeon laid down the sword and approached the other body.
as frightfully gashed and stabbed, but there was no blood. He too
old of the left foot and tried to straighten the leg. In the effort thody was displaced. The dead do not wish to be moved--it proteste
th a faint, sickening odour. Where it had lain were a few maggot
anifesting an imbecile activity.
he surgeon looked at the captain. The captain looked at th
urgeon.
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A Baffled Ambuscade
onnecting Readyville and Woodbury was a good, hard turnpik
ne or ten miles long. Readyville was an outpost of the Federal arm
Murfreesboro; Woodbury had the same relation to th
onfederate army at Tullahoma. For months after the big battle a
one River these outposts were in constant quarrel, most of th
ouble occurring, naturally, on the turnpike mentioned, betwee
etachments of cavalry. Sometimes the infantry and artillery took
and in the game by way of showing their goodwill.
ne night a squadron of Federal horse commanded by Majoeidel, a gallant and skillful officer, moved out from Readyville on a
ncommonly hazardous enterprise requiring secrecy, caution an
ence.
assing the infantry pickets, the detachment soon afterwar
pproached two cavalry videttes staring hard into the darknes
head. There should have been three.
Where is your other man?" said the major. "I ordered Dunning to b
ere tonight."
He rode forward, sir," the man replied. "There was a little firin
terward, but it was a long way to the front."
was against orders and against sense for Dunning to do that
aid the officer, obviously vexed. "Why did he ride forward?"
Don't know, sir; he seemed mighty restless. Guess he wa
keered."
When this remarkable reasoner and his companion had bee
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bsorbed into the expeditionary force, it resumed its advanc
onversation was forbidden; arms and accountrements were denie
e right to rattle. The horses tramping was all that could be hear
nd the movement was slow in order to have as little as possible
at. It was after midnight and pretty dark, although there was a bit
oon somewhere behind the masses of cloud.
wo or three miles along, the head of the column approached
ense forest of cedars bordering the road on both sides. The majo
ommanded a halt by merely halting, and, evidently himself a b
keered," rode on alone to reconnoiter. He was followed, howeve
y his adjutant and three troopers, who remained a little distanc
ehind and, unseen by him, saw all that occurred.
fter riding about a hundred yards toward the forest, the majo
uddenly and sharply reined in his horse and sat motionless in th
addle. Near the side of the road, in a little open space and hard
n paces away, stood the figure of a man, dimly visible and a
otionless as he. The major's first feeling was that of satisfaction
aving left his cavalcade behind; if this were an enemy and shouscape he would have little to report. The expedition was as y
ndetected.
ome dark object was dimly discernible at the man's feet; the office
ould not make it out. With the instinct of the true cavalryman and
articular indisposition to the discharge of firearms, he drew haber. The man on foot made no movement in answer to th
hallenge. The situation was tense and a bit dramatic. Suddenly th
oon burst through a rift in the clouds and, himself in the shadow of
oup of great oaks, the horseman saw the footman clearly, in
atch of white light. It was Trooper Dunning, unarmed an
areheaded. The object at his feet resolved itself into a dead hors
nd at a right angle across the animal's neck lay a dead man, fac
pward in the moonlight.
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Dunning has had the fight of his life," thought the major, and wa
bout to ride forward. Dunning raised his hand, motioning him bac
th a gesture of warning; then, lowering the arm, he pointed to th
ace where the road lost itself in the blackness of the cedar forest.
he major understood, and turning his horse rode back to the littoup that had followed him and was already moving to the rear
ar of his displeasure, and so returned to the head of his command
Dunning is just ahead there," he said to the captain of his leadin
ompany. "He has killed his man and will have something to report."
ght patiently they waited, sabers drawn, but Dunning did not coman hour the day broke and the whole force moved cautious
rward, its commander not altogether satisfied with his faith
rivate Dunning. The expedition had failed, but something remaine
be done.
the little open space off the road they found the fallen horse. At ght angle across the animal's neck face upward, a bullet in th
ain, lay the body of Trooper Dunning, stiff as a statue, hours dead
xamination disclosed abundant evidence that within a half hour th
edar forest had been occupied by a strong force of Confedera
fantry--an ambuscade.
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A Bivouac of the Dead
way up in the heart of the Allegheny mountains, in Pocahonta
ounty, West Virginia, is a beautiful little valley through which flow
e east fork of the Greenbrier river. At a point where the valley roa
tersects the old Staunton and Parkersburg turnpike, a famou
oroughfare in its day, is a post office in a farm house. The name o
e place is Travelers' Repose, for it was once a tavern. Crownin
ome low hills within a stone's throw of the house are long lines of o
onfederate fortifications, skilfully designed and s
ell"preserved"that an hour's work by a brigade would put them in
erviceable shape for the next civil war. This place had its battlehat was called a battle in the"green and salad days"of the gre
bellion. A brigade of Federal troops, the writer's regiment amon
em, came over Cheat mountain, fifteen miles to the westward, an
ringing its lines across the little valley, felt the enemy all day; an
e enemy did a little feeling, too. There was a great cannonadin
hich killed about a dozen on each side; then, finding the place torong for assault, the Federals called the affair a reconnaissance
rce, and burying their dead withdrew to the more comfortable plac
hence they had come. Those dead now lie in a beautiful nation
emetery at Grafton, duly registered, so far as identified, an
ompanioned by other Federal dead gathered from the sever
amps and battlefields of West Virginia. The fallen soldier (th
ord"hero"appears to be a later invention) has such humble hono
s it is possible to give.
s part in all the pomp that fills
he circuit of the Summer hills
that his grave is green.
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rue, more than a half of the green graves in the Grafton cemete
e marked"Unknown,"and sometimes it occurs that one thinks
e contradiction involved in"honoring the memory"of him of whom n
emory remains to honor; but the attempt seems to do no gre
arm to the living, even to the logical.
few hundred yards to the rear of the old Confederate earthworks wooded hill. Years ago it was not wooded. Here, among the tree
nd in the undergrowth, are rows of shallow depression
scoverable by removing the accumulated forest leaves. Fro
ome of them may be taken (and reverently replaced) small th
abs of the split stone of the country, with rude and retice
scriptions by comrades. I found only one with a date, only one wil names of man and regiment. The entire number found was eight
these forgotten graves rest the Confederate dead--between eigh
nd one hundred, as nearly as can be made out. Some fell
e"battle;"the majority died of disease. Two, only two, hav
pparently been disinterred for reburial at their homes. So neglecte
nd obscure is this campo santo that only he upon whose farm it ise aged postmaster of Travelers' Repose--appears to know abou
Men living within a mile have never heard of it. Yet other men mu
e still living who assisted to lay these Southern soldiers where the
e, and could identify some of the graves. Is there a man, North o
outh, who would begrudge the expense of giving to these falle
others the tribute of green graves? One would rather not think srue, there are several hundreds of such places still discoverable
e track of the great war. All the stronger is the dumb demand--th
ent plea of these fallen brothers to what is"likest God within th
oul."
hey were honest and courageous foemen, having little in commo
th the political madmen who persuaded them to their doom an
e literary bearers of false witness in the aftertime. They did not liv
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rough the period of honorable strife into the period of vilification
d not pass from the iron age to the brazen--from the era of th
word to that of the tongue and pen. Among them is no member o
e Southern Historical Society. Their valor was not the fury of th
on-combatant; they have no voice in the thunder of the civilians an
e shouting. Not by them are impaired the dignity and infinite patho
the Lost Cause. Give them, these blameless gentlemen, theghtful part in all the pomp that fills the circuit of the summer hills.
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A Little of Chickamauga
he history of that awful struggle is well known--I have not th
tention to record it here, but only to relate some part of what I sa
it; my purpose not instruction, but entertainment.
bsp; I was an officer of the staff of a Federal brigade. Chickamaug
as not my first battle by many, for although hardly more than a bo
years, I had served at the front from the beginning of the troubl
nd had seen enough of war to give me a fair understanding of
We knew well enough that there was to be a fight: the fact that we d
ot want one would have told us that, for Bragg always retired whee wanted to fight and fought when we most desired peace. We ha
aneuvered him out of Chattanooga, but had not maneuvered o
ntire army into it, and he fell back so sullenly that those of us wh
llowed, keeping him actually in sight, were a good deal mor
oncerned about effecting a junction with the rest of our army than t
ush the pursuit. By the time that Rosecrans had got his thre
cattered corps together we were a long way from Chattanooga, wi
ur line of communication with it so exposed that Bragg turned t
eize it. Chickamauga was a fight for possession of a road.
bsp; Back along this road raced Crittenden's corps, with those
homas and McCook, which had not before traversed it. The who
my was moving by its left.
bsp; There was sharp fighting all along and all day, for the fore
as so dense that the hostile lines came almost into contact befor
ghting was possible. One instance was particularly horrible. Afte
ome hours of close engagement my brigade, with foul pieces an
xhausted cartridge boxes, was relieved and withdrawn to the roaprotect several batteries of artillery--probably two dozen pieces
hich commanded an o en field in the rear of our line. Before o
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eary and virtually disarmed men had actually reached the guns th
e in front gave way, fell back behind the guns and went on, th
ord knows whither. A moment later the field was gray wit
onfederates in pursuit. Then the guns opened fire with grape an
anister and for perhaps five minutes--it seemed an hour--nothin
ould be heard but the infernal din of their discharge and nothin
een through the smoke but a great ascension of dust from thmitten soil. When all was over, and the dust cloud had lifted, th
pectacle was too dreadful to describe. The Confederates were st
ere--all of them, it seemed--some almost under the muzzles of th
uns. But not a man of all these brave fellows was on his feet, and s
ickly were all covered with dust that they looked as if they had bee
clothed in yellow.
bsp; "We bury our dead," said a gunner, grimly, though doubtless a
ere afterward dug out, for some were partly alive. nbsp; To a "da
danger" succeeded a "night of waking." The enemy, everywher
eld back from the road, continued to stretch his line northward in th
ope to overlap us and put himself between us and Chattanoog
We neither saw nor heard his movement, but any man with half
ead would have known that he was making it, and we met by
arallel movement to our left. By morning we had edged along
ood way and thrown up rude intrenchments at a little distance fro
e road, on the threatened side. The day was not very far advance
hen we were attacked furiously all along the line, beginning at th
ft. When repulsed, the enemy came again and again--hersistence was dispiriting. He seemed to be using against us th
w of probabilities: for so many efforts one would eventua
ucceed.
bsp; One did, and it was my luck to see it win. I had been sent b
y chief, General Hazen, to order up some artillery ammunition ande awa to the right and rear in search of it. Finding an ordnanc
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ain I obtained from the officer in charge a few wagons loaded wi
hat I wanted, but he seemed in doubt as to our occupancy of th
gion across which I proposed to guide them. Although assured th
had just traversed it, and that it lay immediately behind Wood
vision, he insisted on riding to the top of the ridge behind which h
ain lay and overlooking the ground. We did so, when to m
stonishment I saw the entire country in front swarming wionfederates; the very earth seemed to be moving toward us! The
ame on in thousands, and so rapidly that we had barely time to tu
il and gallop down the hill and away, leaving them in possession o
e train, many of the wagons being upset by frantic efforts to p
em about. By what miracle that officer had sensed the situation
d not learn, for we parted company then and there and I nevegain saw him.
bsp; By a misunderstanding Wood's division had been withdraw
om our line of battle just as the enemy was making an assau
hrough the gap of a half a mile the Confederates charged witho
pposition, cutting our army clean in two. The right divisions wer
oken up and with General Rosecrans in their midst fled how the
ould across the country, eventually bringing up in Chattanooga
hence Rosecrans telegraphed to Washington the destruction of th
st of his army. The rest of his army was standing its ground.
bsp; A good deal of nonsense used to be talked about the heroism
General Garfield, who, caught in the rout of the right, neverthelesent back and joined the undefeated left under General Thoma
here was no great heroism in it; that is what every man should hav
one, including the commander of the army. We could hea
homas's guns going--those of us who had ears for them--and a
at was needful was to make a sufficiently wide detour and the
ove toward the sound. I did so myself, and have never felt that ught to make me President. Moreover, on my way I met Gener
e le , and m duties as to o ra hical en ineer havin iven m
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ome knowledge of the lay of the land offered to pilot him back t
ory. I am sorry to say my good offices were rejected a little uncivilly
hich I charitably attributed to the general's obvious absence
ind. His mind, I think, was in Nashville, behind a breastwork.
bsp; Unable to find my brigade, I reported to General Thomas, wh
rected me to remain with him. He had assumed command of all thrces still intact and was pretty closely beset. The battle was fierc
nd continuous, the enemy extending his lines farther and farthe
ound our right, toward our line of retreat. We could not meet th
xtension otherwise than by "refusing" our right flank and letting hi
close us; which but for gallant Gordon Granger he would inevitab
ave done.
bsp; This was the way of it. Looking across the fields in our rea
ather longingly) I had the happy distinction of a discoverer. What
aw was the shimmer of sunlight on metal: lines of troops wer
oming in behind us! The distance was too great, the atmospher
o hazy to distinguish the color of their uniform, even with a glas
eporting my momentous "find" I was directed by the general to gnd see who they were. Galloping toward them until near enough t
ee that they were of our kidney I hastened back with the glad tiding
nd was sent again, to guide them to the general's position.
bsp; It was General Granger with two strong brigades of th
serve, moving soldier-like toward the sound of heavy firineeting him and his staff I directed him to Thomas, and unable t
ink of anything better to do decided to go visiting. I knew I had
other in that gang--an officer of an Ohio battery. I soon found hi
ear the head of a column, and as we moved forward we had
omfortable chat amongst such of the enemy's bullets as ha
considerately been fired too high. The incident was a trifle marre
y one of them unhorsing another officer of the battery, whom w
opped against a tree and left. A few moments later Granger's forc
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as put in on the right and the fighting was terrific!
bsp; By accident I now found Hazen's brigade--or what remained
-which had made a half-mile march to add itself to the unrouted
e memorable Snodgrass Hill. Hazen's first remark to me was a
quiry about that artillery ammunition that he had sent me for.
bsp; It was needed badly enough, as were other kinds: for the la
our or two of that interminable day Granger's were the only men th
ad enough ammunition to make a five minutes' fight. Had th
onfederates made one more general attack we should have had t
eet them with the bayonet alone. I don't know why they did no
obably they were short of ammunition. I know, though, that while thun was taking its own time to set we lived through the agony of
ast one death each, waiting for them to come on.
bsp; At last it grew too dark to fight. Then away to our left and rea
ome of Bragg's people set up "the rebel yell." It was taken u
uccessively and passed round to our front, along our right and
ehind us again, until it seemed almost to have got to the poihence it started. It was the ugliest sound that any mortal ever heard
ven a mortal exhausted and unnerved by two days of hard fightin
thout sleep, without rest, without food and without hope. There wa
owever, a space somewhere at the back of us across which tha
orrible yell did not prolong itself; and through that we finally retired
ofound silence and dejection, unmolested.
bsp; To those of us who have survived the attacks of both Brag
nd Time, and who keep in memory the dear dead comrades whom
e left upon that fateful field, the place means much. May it mea
omething less to the younger men whose tents are now pitche
here, with bended heads and clasped hands, God's great ange
ood invisible among the heroes in blue and the heroes in graeeping their last sleep in the woods of Chickamauga.
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The Affair At Coulter's
Do you think, colonel, that your brave Coulter would like to put one
s guns in here!" the general asked.
e was apparently not altogether serious; it certainly did not seem ace where any artillerist, however brave, would like to put a gu
he colonel thought that possibly his division commander mea
ood-humouredly to intimate that Captain Coulter's courage ha
een too highly extolled in a recent conversation between them.
General," he replied warmly, "Coulter would like to put a gunywhere within reach of those people," with a motion of his hand
e direction of the enemy.
is the only place," said the general. He was serious, then.
he place was a depression, a "notch," in the sharp crest of a hill.
as a pass, and through it ran a turnpike, which, reaching thghest point in its course by a sinuous ascent through a thin fores
ade a similar, though less steep, descent toward the enemy. For
ile to the left and a mile to the right the ridge, though occupied b
ederal infantry lying close behind the sharp crest, and appearing a
held in place by atmospheric pressure, was inaccessible t
tillery. There was no place but the bottom of the notch, and that waarely wide enough for the roadbed. From the Confederate side th
oint was commanded by two batteries posted on a slightly lowe
evation beyond a creek, and a half-mile away. All the guns but on
ere masked by the trees of an orchard; that one--it seemed a bit
mpudence--was directly in front of a rather grandiose building, th
anter's dwelling. The gun was safe enough in its exposure--but on
ecause the Federal infantry had been forbidden to fire. Coulter
otch--it came to be called so--was not, that pleasant summe
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ternoon, a place where one would "like to put a gun."
hree or four dead horses lay there, sprawling in the road, three o
ur dead men in a trim row at one side of it, and a little back, dow
e hill. All but one were cavalrymen belonging to the Feder
dvance. One was a quartermaster. The general commanding th
vision and the colonel commanding the brigade, with their stafnd escorts, had ridden into the notch to have a look at the enemy
uns--which had straightway obscured themselves in towerin
ouds of smoke. It was hardly profitable to be curious about gun
hich had the trick of the cuttlefish, and the season of observatio
as brief. At its conclusion--a short remove backward from where
egan--occurred the conversation already partly reported. "It is thnly place," the general repeated thoughtfully, "to get at them."
he colonel looked at him gravely. "There is room for but one gun
eneral--one against twelve."
That is true--for only one at a time," said the commander wi
omething like, yet not altogether like, a smile. "But then, your bravoulter--a whole battery in himself."
he tone of irony was now unmistakable. It angered the colonel, b
e did not know what to say. The spirit of military subordination is no
vourable to retort, nor even deprecation. At this moment a youn
ficer of artillery came riding slowly up the road attended by hugler. It was Captain Coulter. He could not have been more tha
wenty-three years of age. He was of medium height, but very slende
nd lithe, sitting his horse with something of the air of a civilian.
ce he was of a type singularly unlike the men about him; thin, hig
osed, grey-eyed, with a slight blonde moustache, and long, rathe
raggling hair of the same colour. There was an appare
egligence in his attire. His cap was worn with the visor a trifskew; his coat was buttoned only at the sword belt, showing
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onsiderable expanse of white shirt, tolerably clean for that stage
e campaign. But the negligence was all in his dress and bearing;
s face was a look of intense interest in his surroundings. His gre
yes, which seemed occasionally to strike right and left across th
ndscape, like searchlights, were for the most part fixed upon th
ky beyond the Notch; until he should arrive at the summit of th
ad, there was nothing else in that direction to see. As he campposite his division and brigade commanders at the roadside h
aluted mechanically and was about to pass on. Moved by a sudde
mpulse, the colonel signed him to halt.
Captain Coulter," he said, "the enemy has twelve pieces over ther
n the next ridge. If I rightly understand the general, he directs thou bring up a gun and engage them."
here was a blank silence; the general looked stolidly at a dista
giment swarming slowly up the hill through rough undergrowth, lik
torn and draggled cloud of blue smoke; the captain appeared n
have observed him. Presently the captain spoke, slowly and wi
pparent effort:--
On the next ridge, did you say, sir? Are the guns near the house?"
Ah, you have been over this road before! Directly at the house."
And it is--necessary--to engage them? The order is imperative?"
s voice was husky and broken. He was visibly paler. The colon
as astonished and mortified. He stole a glance at the commande
that set, immobile face was no sign; it was as hard as bronze.
oment later the general rode away, followed by his staff and escor
he colonel, humiliated and indignant, was about to order Capta
oulter into arrest, when the latter spoke a few words in a low tone ts bugler, saluted, and rode straight forward into the Notch, where
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esently, at the summit of the road, his field-glass at his eyes, h
howed against the sky, he and his horse, sharply defined an
otionless as an equestrian statue. The bugler had dashed dow
e road in the opposite direction at headlong speed an
sappeared behind a wood. Presently his bugle was heard singin
the cedars, and in an incredibly short time a single gun with i
aisson, each drawn by six horses and manned by its fuomplement of gunners, came bounding and banging up the grad
a storm of dust, unlimbered under cover, and was run forward b
and to the fatal crest among the dead horses. A gesture of th
aptain's arm, some strangely agile movements of the men
ading, and almost before the troops along the way had ceased
ear the rattle of the wheels, a great white cloud sprang forwarown the slope, and with a deafening report the affair at Coulter
otch had begun.
is not intended to relate in detail the progress and incidents of th
hastly contest--a contest without vicissitudes, its alternations on
fferent degrees of despair. Almost at the instant when Capta
oulter's gun blew its challenging cloud twelve answering cloud
lled upward from among the trees about the plantation house,
eep multiple report roared back like a broken echo, and thencefor
the end the Federal cannoneers fought their hopeless battle in a
mosphere of living iron whose thoughts were lightnings and whos
eeds were death.
nwilling to see the efforts which he could not aid and the slaughte
hich he could not stay, the colonel had ascended the ridge at
oint a quarter of a mile to the left, whence the Notch, itself invisib
ut pushing up successive masses of smoke, seemed the crater of
olcano in thundering eruption. With his glass he watched th
nemy's guns, noting as he could the effects of Coulter's fire-oulter still lived to direct it. He saw that the Federal gunner
norin the enem 's ieces, whose osition could be determined b
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eir smoke only, gave their whole attention to the one whic
aintained its place in the open--the lawn in front of the house, wi
hich it was accurately in line. Over and about that hardy piece th
hells exploded at intervals of a few seconds. Some exploded in th
ouse, as could be seen by thin ascensions of smoke from th
eached roof. Figures of prostrate men and horses were plain
sible.
our fellows are doing such good work with a single gun," said th
olonel to an aide who happened to be nearest, "they must b
uffering like the devil from twelve. Go down and present th
ommander of that piece with my congratulations on the accuracy
s fire."
urning to his adjutant-general he said, "Did you observe Coulter
amned reluctance to obey orders?"
Yes, sir, I did."
Well say nothing about it, please. I don't think the general will care ake any accusations. He will probably have enough to do
xplaining his own connection with this uncommon way of amusin
e rearguard of a retreating enemy."
young officer approached from below, climbing breathless up th
cclivity. Almost before he had saluted he gasped out:--
Colonel, I am directed by Colonel Harmon to say that the enemy
uns are within easy reach of our rifles, and most of them visib
om various points along the ridge."
he brigade commander looked at him without a trace of interest
s expression. "I know it," he said quietly.
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he young adjutant was visibly embarrassed. "Colonel Harmo
ould like to have permission to silence those guns," he stammere
So should I," the colonel said in the same tone. "Present m
ompliments to Colonel Harmon and say to him that the general
ders not to fire are still in force."
he adjutant saluted and retired. The colonel ground his heel into th
arth and turned to look again at the enemy's guns.
Colonel," said the adjutant-general, "I don't know that I ought to sa
nything, but there is something wrong in all this. Do you happen t
now that Captain Coulter is from the South?"
No; was he, indeed?"
heard that last summer the division which the general the
ommanded was in the vicinity of Coulter's home--camped there fo
eeks, and--"
isten!" said the colonel, interrupting with an upward gesture. "D
ou hear that?"
That" was the silence of the Federal gun. The staff, the orderlies, th
es of infantry behind the crest--all had "heard," and were lookin
uriously in the direction of the crater, whence no smoke no
scended except desultory cloudlets from the enemy's shells. Theame the blare of a bugle, a faint rattle of wheels; a minute later th
harp reports recommenced with double activity. The demolishe
un had been replaced with a sound one.
Yes," said the adjutant-general, resuming his narrative, "the gener
ade the acquaintance of Coulter's family. There was trouble--I donnow the exact nature of it--something about Coulter's wife. She is
d-hot Secessionist as the all are exce t Coulter himself but sh
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a good wife and high-bred lady. There was a complaint to arm
eadquarters. The general was transferred to this division. It is od
at Coulter's battery should afterward have been assigned to it."
he colonel had risen from the rock upon which they had been sittin
s eyes were blazing with a generous indignation.
See here, Morrison," said he, looking his gossiping staff office
raight in the face, "did you get that story from a gentleman or
ar?"
don't want to say how I got it, Colonel, unless it is necessary" --h
as blushing a trifle-- "but I'll stake my life upon its truth in the main."
he colonel turned toward a small knot of officers some distanc
way. "Lieutenant Williams!" he shouted.
ne of the officers detached himself from the group, and, comin
rward, saluted, saying: "Pardon me, Colonel, I thought you ha
een informed. Williams is dead down there by the gun. What cano, sir?"
eutenant Williams was the aide who had had the pleasure
onveying to the officer in charge of the gun his brigad
ommander's congratulations.
Go," said the colonel, "and direct the withdrawal of that gun instantlold! I'll go myself."
e strode down the declivity toward the rear of the Notch at a brea
eck pace, over rocks and through brambles, followed by his litt
tinue in tumultuous disorder. At the foot of the declivity the
ounted their waiting animals and took to the road at a lively tround a bend and into the Notch. The spectacle which the
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ncountered there was appalling.
Within that defile, barely broad enough for a single gun, were pile
e wrecks of no fewer than four. They had noted the silencing of on
e last one disabled--there had been a lack of men to replace
uickly. The debris lay on both sides of the road; the men ha
anaged to keep an open way between, through which the fifece was now firing. The men?--they looked like demons of the p
l were hatless, all stripped to the waist, their reeking skins blac
th blotches of powder and spattered with gouts of blood. The
orked like madmen, with rammer and cartridge, lever and lanyar
hey set their swollen shoulders and bleeding hands against th
heels at each recoil and heaved the heavy gun back to its plachere were no commands; in that awful environment of whoopin
hot, exploding shells, shrieking fragments of iron, and flyin
plinters of wood, none could have been heard.
fficers, if officers there were, were indistinguishable; all worke
gether--each while he lasted--governed by the eye. When the gu
as sponged, it was loaded; when loaded, aimed and fired. Tholonel observed something new to his military experience
omething horrible and unnatural: the gun was bleeding at the mout
temporary default of water, the man sponging had dipped h
ponge in a pool of his comrades' blood. In all this work there was n
ashing; the duty of the instant was obvious. When one fell, anothe
oking a trifle cleaner, seemed to rise from the earth in the deaan's tracks, to fall in his turn.
With the ruined guns lay the ruined men--alongside the wreckag
nder it and atop of it; and back down the road--a ghast
ocession!--crept on hands and knees such of the wounded a
ere able to move. The colonel--he had compassionately sent h
avalcade to the right about--had to ride over those who wer
ntirely dead in order not to crush those who were partly alive. Int
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at hell he tranquilly held his way, rode up alongside the gun, and,
e obscurity of the last discharge, tapped upon the cheek the ma
olding the rammer, who straightway fell, thinking himself killed. A
end seven times damned sprang out of the smoke to take h
ace, but paused and gazed up at the mounted officer with a
nearthly regard, his teeth flashing between his black lips, his eye
erce and expanded, burning like coals beneath his bloody browhe colonel made an authoritative gesture and pointed to the rea
he fiend bowed in token of obedience. It was Captain Coulter.
multaneously with the colonel's arresting sign silence fell upon th
hole field of action. The procession of missiles no longer streame
to that defile of death; the enemy also had ceased firing. His armad been gone for hours, and the commander of his rearguard, wh
ad held his position perilously long in hope to silence the Feder
e, at that strange moment had silenced his own. "I was not awar
the breadth of my authority," thought the colonel facetiously, ridin
rward to the crest to see what had really happened.
n hour later his brigade was in bivouac on the enemy's ground, ans idlers were examining, with something of awe, as the faithf
spect a saint's relics, a score of straddling dead horses and thre
sabled guns, all spiked. The fallen men had been carried awa
eir crushed and broken bodies would have given too gre
atisfaction.
aturally, the colonel established himself and his military family in th
antation house. It was somewhat shattered, but it was better tha
e open air. The furniture was greatly deranged and broken. Th
alls and ceilings were knocked away here and there, and there wa
lingering odour of powder smoke everywhere. The beds, th
osets of women's clothing, the cupboards were not great
amaged. The new tenants for a night made themselve
omfortable, and the practical effacement of Coulter's batte
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upplied them with an interesting topic.
uring supper that evening an orderly of the escort showed himse
to the dining-room, and asked permission to speak to the colonel
What is it, Barbour?" said that officer pleasantly, having overhear
e request.
Colonel, there is something wrong in the cellar; I don't know what
omebody there. I was down there rummaging about."
will go down and see," said a staff officer, rising.
So will I," the colonel said; "let the others remain. Lead on orderly."
hey took a candle from the table and descended the cellar stair
e orderly in visible trepidation. The candle made but a feeble ligh
ut presently, as they advanced, its narrow circle of illuminatio
vealed a human figure seated on the ground against the blac
one wall which they were skirting, its knees elevated, its heaowed sharply forward. The face, which should have been seen
ofile, was invisible, for the man was bent so far forward that h
ng hair concealed it; and, strange to relate, the beard, of a muc
arker hue, fell in a great tangled mass and lay along the ground a
s feet. They involuntarily paused; then the colonel, taking the cand
om the orderly's shaking hand, approached the man and attentive
onsidered him. The long dark beard was the hair of a womanead. The dead woman clasped in her arms a dead babe. Bo
ere clasped in the arms of the man, pressed against his breas
gainst his lips. There was blood in the hair of the woman; there wa
ood in the hair of the man. A yard away lay an infant's foot. It wa
ear an irregular depression in the beaten earth which formed th
ellar's floor--a fresh excavation with a convex bit of iron, havingged edges, visible in one of the sides. The colonel held the lig
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s high as he could. The floor of the room above was broke
rough, the splinters pointing at all angles downward. "Th
asemate is not bomb-proof," said the colonel gravely; it did n
ccur to him that his summing up of the matter had any levity in it.
hey stood about the group awhile in silence; the staff officer wa
inking of his unfinished supper, the orderly of what might possibe in one of the casks on the other side of the cellar. Suddenly th
an, whom they had thought dead, raised his head and gaze
anquilly into their faces. His complexion was coal black; the cheek
ere apparently tattooed in irregular sinuous lines from the eye
ownward. The lips, too, were white, like those of a stage negr
here was blood upon his forehead.
he staff officer drew back a pace, the orderly two paces.
What are you doing here, my man?" said the colonel, unmoved.
This house belongs to me, sir," was the reply, civilly delivered.
To you? Ah, I see! And these?"
My wife and child. I am Captain Coulter."
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A Horseman in the Sky
ne sunny afternoon in the autumn of the year 1861, a soldier lay in
ump of laurel by the side of a road in Western Virginia. He lay at fu
ngth, upon his stomach, his feet resting upon the toes, his hea
pon the left forearm. His extended right hand loosely grasped h
le. But for the somewhat methodical disposition of his limbs and
ght rhythmic movement of the cartridge-box at the back of his be
e might have been thought to be dead. He was asleep at his post
uty. But if detected he would be dead shortly afterward, that bein
e just and legal penalty of his crime.
he clump of laurel in which the criminal lay was in the angle of
ad which, after ascending, southward, a steep acclivity to th
oint, turned sharply to the west, running along the summit f
erhaps one hundred yards. There it turned southward again an
ent zigzagging downward through the forest. At the salient of tha
econd angle was a large flat rock, jutting out from the ridge to th
orthward, overlooking the deep valley from which the roa
scended. The rock capped a high cliff; a stone dropped from i
uter edge would have fallen sheer downward one thousand feet t
e tops of the pines. The angle where the soldier lay was on anothe
pur of the same cliff. Had he been awake he would hav
ommanded a view, not only of the short arm of the road and th
tting rock but of the entire profile of the cliff below it. It might weave made him giddy to look.
he country was wooded everywhere except at the bottom of th
alley to the northward, where there was a small natural meadow
rough which flowed a stream scarcely visible from the valley's rim
his open ground looked hardly larger than an ordinary door-yarut was really several acres in extent. Its green was more vivid tha
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at of the enclosing forest. Away beyond it rose a line of giant cliff
milar to those upon which we are supposed to stand in our surve
the savage scene, and through which the road had someho
ade its climb to the summit. The configuration of the valley, indeed
as such that from out point of observation it seemed entirely shut i
nd one could not but have wondered how the road which found
ay out of it had found a way into it, and whence came and whitheent the waters of the stream that parted the meadow two thousan
et below.
o country is so wild and difficult but men will make it a theatre
ar; concealed in the forest at the bottom of that military rat-trap,
hich half a hundred men in possession of the exits might havarved an army to submission, lay five regiments of Federal infantry
hey had marched all the previous day and night and were restin
nightfall they would take to the road again, climb to the plac
here their unfaithful sentinel now slept, and, descending the othe
ope of the ridge, fall upon a camp of the enemy at about midnigh
heir hope was to surprise it, for the road led to the rear of it. In cas
failure their position would be perilous in the extreme; and fail the
urely would should accident or vigilance apprise the enemy of th
ovement.
he sleeping sentinel in the clump of laurel was a young Virginia
amed Carter Druse. He was the son of wealthy parents, an on
hild, and had known such ease and cultivation and high living aealth and taste were able to command in the mountain country
Western Virginia. His home was but a few miles from where he no
y. One morning he had risen from the breakfast table and said
uietly and gravely: "Father, a Union regiment has arrived at Grafton
am going to join it."
he father lifted his leonine head, looked at the son a moment
ence, and replied: "Go, Carter, and, whatever may occur, do wha
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ou conceive to be your duty. Virginia, to which you are a traito
ust get on without you. Should we both live to the end of the war, w
ll speak further of the matter. Your mother, as the physician ha
formed you, is in a most critical condition; at the best she cann
e with us longer than a few weeks, but that time is precious. It wou
e better not to disturb her."
o Carter Druse, bowing reverently to his father, who returned th
alute with a stately courtesy which masked a breaking heart, left th
ome of his childhood to go soldiering. By conscience and courag
y deeds of devotion and daring, he soon commended himself to h
llows and his officers; and it was to these qualities and to som
nowledge of the country that he owed his selection for his preseerilous duty at the extreme outpost. Nevertheless, fatigue had bee
ronger than resolution, and he had fallen asleep. What good or ba
ngel came in a dream to rouse him from his state of crime who sha
ay? Without a movement, without a sound, in the profound silenc
nd the languor of the late afternoon, some invisible messenger
te touched with unsealing finger the eyes of his consciousness
hispered into the ear of his spirit the mysterious awakening wo
hich no human lips have ever spoken, no human memory ever ha
called. He quietly raised his forehead from his arm and looke
etween the masking stems of the laurels, instinctively closing h
ght hand about the stock of his rifle.
s first feeling was a keen artistic delight. On a colossal pedestae cliff, motionless at the extreme edge of the capping rock an
harply outlined against the sky, was an equestrian statue o
mpressive dignity. The figure of the man sat the figure of the horse
raight and soldierly, but with the repose of a Grecian god carved
e marble which limits the suggestion of activity. The grey costum
armonised with its aerial background; the metal of accoutremend caparison was softened and subdued by the shadow; th
nimal's skin had no oints of hi h li ht. A carbine, strikin
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reshortened, lay across the pommel of the saddle, kept in place b
e right hand grasping it at the "grip"; the left hand, holding the brid
in, was invisible. In silhouette against the sky, the profile of th
orse was cut with the sharpness of a cameo; it looked across th
eights of air to the confronting cliffs beyond. The face of the ride
rned slightly to the left, showed only an outline of temple and bear
e was looking downward to the bottom of the valley. Magnified bs lift against the sky and by the soldier's testifying sense of th
rmidableness of a near enemy, the group appeared of heroi
most colossal, size.
or an instant Druse had a strange, half-defined feeling that he ha
ept to the end of the war and was looking upon a noble work of aared upon that commanding eminence to commemorate th
eeds of an heroic past of which he had been an inglorious part. Th
eling was dispelled by a slight movement of the group; the hors
thout moving its feet, had drawn its body slightly backward from th
erge; the man remained immobile as before. Broad awake an
eenly alive to the significance of the situation, Druse now broug
e butt of his rifle against his cheek by cautiously pushing the barr
rward through the bushes, cocked the piece, and, glancing throug
e sights, covered a vital spot of the horseman's breast. A touc
pon the trigger and all would have been well with Carter Druse. A
at instant the horseman turned his head and looked in the directio
his concealed foeman--seemed to look into his very face, into h
yes, into his brave compassionate heart.
it, then, so terrible to kill an enemy in war--an enemy who ha
urprised a secret vital to the safety of oneself and comrades--a
nemy more formidable for his knowledge than all his army for i
umbers? Carter Druse grew deathly pale; he shook in every lim
rned faint, and saw the statuesque group before him as blacgures, rising, falling, moving unsteadil in arcs of circles in a fie
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ky. His hand fell away from his weapon, his head slowly droppe
ntil his face rested on the leaves in which he lay. This courageou
entleman and hardy soldier was near swooning from intensity
motion.
was not for long; in another moment his face was raised from eart
s hands resumed their places on the rifle, his forefinger sought thgger; mind, heart, and eyes were clear, conscience and reaso
ound. He could not hope to capture that enemy; to alarm him wou
ut send him dashing to his camp with his fatal news. The duty of th
oldier was plain: the man must be shot dead from ambush--witho
arning, without a moment's spiritual preparation, with never s
uch as an unspoken prayer, he must be sent to his account. But nohere is a hope; he may have discovered nothing--perhaps he is b
dmiring the sublimity of the landscape. If permitted, he may turn an
de carelessly away in the direction whence he came. Surely it w
e possible to judge at the instant of his withdrawing whether h
nows. It may well be that his fixity of attention--Druse turned h
ead and looked below, through the deeps of air downward, as from
e surface to the bottom of a translucent sea. He saw creepin
cross the green meadow a sinuous line of figures of men an
orses--some foolish commander was permitting the soldiers of h
scort to water their beasts in the open, in plain view from a hundre
ummits!
ruse withdrew his eyes from the valley and fixed them again upoe group of man and horse in the sky, and again it was through th
ghts of his rifle. But this time his aim was at the horse. In h
emory, as if they were a divine mandate, rang the words of h
ther at their parting: "Whatever may occur, do what you conceive t
e your duty." He was calm now. His teeth were firmly but not rigid
osed; his nerves were as tranquil as a sleeping babe's--not emor affected any muscle of his body; his breathing, un
us ended in the act of takin aim, was re ular and slow. Dut ha
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onquered; the spirit had said to the body: "Peace, be still." He fire
t that moment an officer of the Federal force, who, in a spirit
dventure or in quest of knowledge, had left the hidden bivouac
e valley, and, with aimless feet, had made his way to the lowe
dge of a small open space near the foot of the cliff, was considerin
hat he had to gain by pushing his exploration farther. At a distanca quarter-mile before him, but apparently at a stone's-throw, ros
om its fringe of pines the gigantic face of rock, towering to so gre
height above him that it made him giddy to look up to where i
dge cut a sharp, rugged line against the sky. At some distanc
way to his right it presented a clean, vertical profile against
ackground of blue sky to a point half of the way down, and of distals hardly less blue thence to the tops of the trees at its base. Liftin
s eyes to the dizzy altitude of its summit, the officer saw a
stonishing sight--a man on horseback riding down into the valle
rough the air!
raight upright sat the rider, in military fashion, with a firm seat in th
addle, a strong clutch upon the rein to hold his charger from tompetuous a plunge. From his bare head his long hair streame
pward, waving like a plume. His right hand was concealed in th
oud of the horse's lifted mane. The animal's body was as level as
very hoof-stroke encountered the resistant earth. Its motions wer
ose of a wild gallop, but even as the officer looked they cease
th all the legs thrown sharply forward as in the act of alighting froleap. But this was a flight!
lled with amazement and terror by this apparition of a horseman
e sky--half believing himself the chosen scribe of some ne
pocalypse, the officer was overcome by the intensity of h
motions; his legs failed him and he fell. Almost at the same insta
e heard a crashing sound in the trees--a sound that died without a
cho, and all was still.
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he officer rose to his feet, trembling. The familiar sensation of a
braded shin recalled his dazed faculties. Pulling himself togethe
e ran rapidly obliquely away from the cliff to a point a half-mile fro
s foot; thereabout he expected to find his man; and thereabout h
aturally failed. In the fleeting instant of his vision his imagination ha
een so wrought upon by the apparent grace and ease and intentiothe marvellous performance that it did not occur to him that the lin
march of aerial cavalry is directed downward, and that he cou
nd the objects of his search at the very foot of the cliff. A half-hou
ter he returned to camp.
his officer was a wise man; he knew better than to tell an incredibuth. He said nothing of what he had seen. But when the commande
sked him if in his scout he had learned anything of advantage to th
xpedition, he answered:
Yes, sir; there is no road leading down into this valley from th
outhward."
he commander, knowing better, smiled.
fter firing his shot Private Carter Druse reloaded his rifle an
sumed his watch. Ten minutes had hardly passed when a Federa
ergeant crept cautiously to him on hands and knees. Druse neith
rned his head nor looked at him, but lay without motion or sign
cognition.
Did you fire?" the sergeant whispered.
Yes."
At what?"
A horse. It was standing on onder rock--prett far out. You see it
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o longer there. It went over the cliff."
he man's face was white, but he showed no other sign of emotio
aving answered, he turned away his face and said no more. Th
ergeant did not understand.
See here, Druse," he said, after a moment's silence, "it's no usaking a mystery. I order you to report. Was there anybody on th
orse?"
Yes."
Who?"
My father."
he sergeant rose to his feet and walked away. "Good God!" h
aid.
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An Occurrence at Owl CreekBridge
man stood upon a railroad bridge in northern Alabama, lookin
own into the swift water twenty feet below. The man's hands wer
ehind his back, the wrists bound with a cord. A rope close
ncircled his neck. It was attached to a stout cross-timber above h
ead and the slack feel to the level of his knees. Some loose board
d upon the ties supporting the rails of the railway supplied oting for him and his executioners--two private soldiers of th
ederal army, directed by a sergeant who in civil life may have bee
deputy sheriff. At a short remove upon the same tempora
atform was an officer in the uniform of his rank, armed. He was
aptain. A sentinel at each end of the bridge stood with his rifle in th
osition known as "support," that is to say, vertical in front of the le
houlder, the hammer resting on the forearm thrown straight acros
e chest--a formal and unnatural position, enforcing an ere
arriage of the body. It did not appear to be the duty of these tw
en to know what was occurring at the center of the bridge; the
erely blockaded the two ends of the foot planking that traversed it.
eyond one of the sentinels nobody was in sight; the railroad raraight away into a forest for a hundred yards, then, curving, was lo
view. Doubtless there was an outpost farther along. The othe
ank of the stream was open ground--a gentle slope topped with
ockade of vertical tree trunks, loopholed for rifles, with a sing
mbrasure through which protruded the muzzle of a brass canno
ommanding the bridge. Midway up the slope between the bridgnd fort were the spectators--a single company of infantry in line,
arade rest," the butts of their rifles on the round, the barre
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clining slightly backward against the right shoulder, the hand
ossed upon the stock. A lieutenant stood at the right of the line, th
oint of his sword upon the ground, his left hand resting upon h
ght. Excepting the group of four at the center of the bridge, not
an moved. The company faced the bridge, staring stonil
otionless. The sentinels, facing the banks of the stream, might hav
een statues to adorn the bridge. The captain stood with foldems, silent, observing the work of his subordinates, but making n
gn. Death is a dignitary who when he comes announced is to b
ceived with formal manifestations of respect, even by those mo
miliar with him. In the code of military etiquette silence and fixity a
rms of deference.
he man who was engaged in being hanged was apparently abo
irty-five years of age. He was a civilian, if one might judge from h
abit, which was that of a planter. His features were good--a straigh
ose, firm mouth, broad forehead, from which his long, dark hair wa
ombed straight back, falling behind his ears to the collar of his we
ting frock coat. He wore a moustache and pointed beard, but n
hiskers; his eyes were large and dark gray, and had a kind
xpression which one would hardly have expected in one whos
eck was in the hemp. Evidently this was no vulgar assassin. Th
beral military code makes provision for hanging many kinds
ersons, and gentlemen are not excluded.
he preparations being complete, the two private soldiers steppeside and each drew away the plank upon which he had bee
anding. The sergeant turned to the captain, saluted and place
mself immediately behind that officer, who in turn moved apart on
ace. These movements left the condemned man and the sergea
anding on the two ends of the same plank, which spanned three o
e cross-ties of the bridge. The end upon which the civilian stoomost, but not quite, reached a fourth. This plank had been held
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ace by the weight of the captain; it was now held by that of th
ergeant. At a signal from the former the latter would step aside, th
ank would tilt and the condemned man go down between two tie
he arrangement commended itself to his judgement as simple an
fective. His face had not been covered nor his eyes bandaged. H
oked a moment at his "unsteadfast footing," then let his gaz
ander to the swirling water of the stream racing madly beneath het. A piece of dancing driftwood caught his attention and his eye
llowed it down the current. How slowly it appeared to move! What
uggish stream!
e closed his eyes in order to fix his last thoughts upon his wife an
hildren. The water, touched to gold by the early sun, the broodinists under the banks at some distance down the stream, the fo
e soldiers, the piece of drift--all had distracted him. And now h
ecame conscious of a new disturbance. Striking through th
ought of his dear ones was sound which he could neither ignor
or understand, a sharp, distinct, metallic percussion like the strok
a blacksmith's hammer upon the anvil; it had the same ringin
uality. He wondered what it was, and whether immeasurably distan
near by--it seemed both. Its recurrence was regular, but as slo
s the tolling of a death knell. He awaited each new stroke wi
mpatience and--he knew not why--apprehension. The intervals
ence grew progressively longer; the delays became maddenin
With their greater infrequency the sounds increased in strength an
harpness. They hurt his ear like the trust of a knife; he feared hould shriek. What he heard was the ticking of his watch.
e unclosed his eyes and saw again the water below him. "If I cou
ee my hands," he thought, "I might throw off the noose and sprin
to the stream. By diving I could evade the bullets and, swimmin
gorously, reach the bank, take to the woods and get away homey home, thank God, is as yet outside their lines; my wife and litt
nes are still be ond the invader's farthest advance."
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s these thoughts, which have here to be set down in words, wer
ashed into the doomed man's brain rather than evolved from it th
aptain nodded to the sergeant. The sergeant stepped aside.
eyton Fahrquhar was a well to do planter, of an old and high
spected Alabama family. Being a slave owner and like other slav
wners a politician, he was naturally an original secessionist an
dently devoted to the Southern cause. Circumstances of a
mperious nature, which it is unnecessary to relate here, ha
evented him from taking service with that gallant army which ha
ught the disastrous campaigns ending with the fall of Corinth, an
e chafed under the inglorious restraint, longing for the release of h
nergies, the larger life of the soldier, the opportunity for distinction
hat opportunity, he felt, would come, as it comes to all in wartime
eanwhile he did what he could. No service was too humble for hi
perform in the aid of the South, no adventure to perilous for him t
ndertake if consistent with the character of a civilian who was eart a soldier, and who in good faith and without too muc
ualification assented to at least a part of the frankly villainou
ctum that all is fair in love and war.
ne evening while Fahrquhar and his wife were sitting on a rust
ench near the entrance to his grounds, a gray-clad soldier rode uthe gate and asked for a drink of water. Mrs. Fahrquhar was on
o happy to serve him with her own white hands. While she wa
tching the water her husband approached the dusty horseman an
quired eagerly for news from the front.
The Yanks are repairing the railroads," said the man, "and ar
etting ready for another advance. They have reached the Owl Creeidge, put it in order and built a stockade on the north bank. Th
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ommandant has issued an order, which is posted everywhere
eclaring that any civilian caught interfering with the railroad, i
idges, tunnels, or trains will be summarily hanged. I saw the order
How far is it to the Owl Creek bridge?" Fahrquhar asked.
About thirty miles."
s there no force on this side of the creek?"
Only a picket post half a mile out, on the railroad, and a sing
entinel at this end of the bridge."
Suppose a man--a civilian and student of hanging--should elude thcket post and perhaps get the better of the sentinel," sa
ahrquhar, smiling, "what could he accomplish?"
he soldier reflected. "I was there a month ago," he replied.
bserved that the flood of last winter had lodged a great quantity
iftwood against the wooden pier at this end of the bridge. It is noy and would burn like tinder."
he lady had now brought the water, which the soldier drank. H
anked her ceremoniously, bowed to her husband and rode away
n hour later, after nightfall, he repassed the plantation, goin
orthward in the direction from which he had come. He was
ederal scout.
s Peyton Fahrquhar fell straight downward through the bridge h
st consciousness and was as one already dead. From this state h
as awakened--ages later, it seemed to him--by the pain of a shar
essure upon his throat, followed by a sense of suffocation. Kee
oignant agonies seemed to shoot from his neck downward throug
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very fiber of his body and limbs. These pains appeared to flas
ong well defined lines of ramification and to beat with a
conceivably rapid periodicity. They seemed like streams o
ulsating fire heating him to an intolerable temperature. As to h
ead, he was conscious of nothing but a feeling of fullness--
ongestion. These sensations were unaccompanied by thought. Th
tellectual part of his nature was already effaced; he had power onfeel, and feeling was torment. He was conscious of motio
ncompassed in a luminous cloud, of which he was now merely th
ery heart, without material substance, he swung through unthinkab
cs of oscillation, like a vast pendulum. Then all at once, with terrib
uddenness, the light about him shot upward with the noise of a lou
plash; a frightful roaring was in his ears, and all was cold and darhe power of thought was restored; he knew that the rope ha
oken and he had fallen into the stream. There was no addition
rangulation; the noose about his neck was already suffocating hi
nd kept the water from his lungs. To die of hanging at the bottom o
river!--the idea seemed to him ludicrous. He opened his eyes
e darkness and saw above him a gleam of light, but how distan
ow inaccessible! He was still sinking, for the light became fainte
nd fainter until it was a mere glimmer. Then it began to grow an
ighten, and he knew that he was rising toward the surface--knew
th reluctance, for he was now very comfortable. "To be hanged an
owned," he thought, "that is not so bad; but I do not wish to be sho
o; I will not be shot; that is not fair."
e was not conscious of an effort, but a sharp pain in his wri
pprised him that he was trying to free his hands. He gave th
ruggle his attention, as an idler might observe the feat of a juggle
thout interest in the outcome. What splendid effort!--wh
agnificent, what superhuman strength! Ah, that was a fin
ndeavor! Bravo! The cord fell away; his arms parted and floatepward, the hands diml seen on each side in the growing light. H
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atched them with a new interest as first one and then the othe
ounced upon the noose at his neck. They tore it away and thrust
ercely aside, its undulations resembling those of a water snak
Put it back, put it back!" He thought he shouted these words to h
ands, for the undoing of the noose had been succeeded by th
rest pang that he had yet experienced. His neck ached horribly; h
ain was on fire, his heart, which had been fluttering faintly, gave eat leap, trying to force itself out at his mouth. His whole body wa
cked and wrenched with an insupportable anguish! But h
sobedient hands gave no heed to the command. They beat th
ater vigorously with quick, downward strokes, forcing him to th
urface. He felt his head emerge; his eyes were blinded by th
unlight; his chest expanded convulsively, and with a supreme anowning agony his lungs engulfed a great draught of air, whic
stantly he expelled in a shriek!
e was now in full possession of his physical senses. They wer
deed, preternaturally keen and alert. Something in the awf
sturbance of his organic system had so exalted and refined the
at they made record of things never before perceived. He felt th
pples upon his face and heard their separate sounds as the
ruck. He looked at the forest on the bank of the stream, saw th
dividual trees, the leaves and the veining of each leaf--he saw th
ery insects upon them: the locusts, the brilliant bodied flies, the gra
piders stretching their webs from twig to twig. He noted th
ismatic colors in all the dewdrops upon a million blades of grashe humming of the gnats that danced above the eddies of th
ream, the beating of the dragon flies' wings, the strokes of th
ater spiders' legs, like oars which had lifted their boat--all thes
ade audible music. A fish slid along beneath his eyes and h
eard the rush of its body parting the water.
e had come to the surface facing down the stream; in a moment th
sible world seemed to wheel slowl round, himself the ivotal oin
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nd he saw the bridge, the fort, the soldiers upon the bridge, th
aptain, the sergeant, the two privates, his executioners. They wer
silhouette against the blue sky. They shouted and gesticulated
ointing at him. The captain had drawn his pistol, but did not fire; th
hers were unarmed. Their movements were grotesque an
orrible, their forms gigantic.
uddenly he heard a sharp report and something struck the wate
martly within a few inches of his head, spattering his face wi
pray. He heard a second report, and saw one of the sentinels wit
s rifle at his shoulder, a light cloud of blue smoke rising from th
uzzle. The man in the water saw the eye of the man on the bridg
azing into his own through the sights of the rifle. He observed thatas a gray eye and remembered having read that gray eyes wer
eenest, and that all famous marksmen had them. Nevertheless, th
ne had missed.
counter-swirl had caught Fahrquhar and turned him half round; h
as again looking at the forest on the bank opposite the fort. Th
ound of a clear, high voice in a monotonous singsong now rang oehind him and came across the water with a distinctness th
erced and subdued all other sounds, even the beating of th
pples in his ears. Although no soldier, he had frequented camp
nough to know the dread significance of that deliberate, drawlin
spirated chant; the lieutenant on shore was taking a part in th
orning's work. How coldly and pitilessly--with what an even, caltonation, presaging, and enforcing tranquility in the men--with wh
ccurately measured interval fell those cruel words:
Company!... Attention!... Shoulder arms!... Ready!... Aim!... Fire!"
ahrquhar dived--dived as deeply as he could. The water roared
s ears like the voice of Niagara, yet he heard the dull thunder of th
olley and, rising again toward the surface, met shining bits of meta
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ngularly flattened, oscillating slowly downward. Some of the
uched him on the face and hands, then fell away, continuing the
escent. One lodged between his collar and neck; it wa
ncomfortably warm and he snatched it out.
s he rose to the surface, gasping for breath, he saw that he ha
een a long time under water; he was perceptibly farthownstream--nearer to safety. The soldiers had almost finishe
loading; the metal ramrods flashed all at once in the sunshine a
ey were drawn from the barrels, turned in the air, and thrust int
eir sockets. The two sentinels fired again, independently an
effectually.
he hunted man saw all this over his shoulder; he was no
wimming vigorously with the current. His brain was as energetic a
s arms and legs; he thought with the rapidity of lightning:
The officer," he reasoned, "will not make that martinet's error
econd time. It is as easy to dodge a volley as a single shot. He ha
obably already given the command to fire at will. God help meannot dodge them all!"
n appalling splash within two yards of him was followed by a lou
shing sound, Dimenuendo, which seemed to travel back throug
e air to the fort and died in an explosion which stirred the very rive
its deeps! A rising sheet of water curved over him, fell down upom, blinded him, strangled him! The cannon had taken an hand
e game. As he shook his head free from the commotion of th
mitten water he heard the deflected shot humming through the a
head, and in an instant it was cracking and smashing the branche
the forest beyond.
They will not do that again," he thought; "the next time they will use harge of grape. I must keep my eye upon the gun; the smoke w
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pprise me--the report arrives too late; it lags behind the missil
hat is a good gun."
uddenly he felt himself whirled round and round--spinning like a to
he water, the banks, the forests, the now distant bridge, fort an
en, all were commingled and blurred. Objects were represented b
eir colors only; circular horizontal streaks of color--that was all haw. He had been caught in a vortex and was being whirled on with
elocity of advance and gyration that made him giddy and sick.
w moments he was flung upon the gravel at the foot of the left ban
the stream--the southern bank--and behind a projecting poi
hich concealed him from his enemies. The sudden arrest of h
otion, the abrasion of one of his hands on the gravel, restored himnd he wept with delight. He dug his fingers into the sand, threw
ver himself in handfuls and audibly blessed it. It looked lik
amonds, rubies, emeralds; he could think of nothing beautiful whic
did not resemble. The trees upon the bank were giant garde
ants; he noted a definite order in their arrangement, inhaled th
agrance of their blooms. A strange roseate light shone through th
paces among their trunks and the wind made in their branches th
usic of Aeolian harps. He had not wish to perfect his escape--h
as content to remain in that enchanting spot until retaken.
whiz and a rattle of grapeshot among the branches high above h
ead roused him from his dream. The baffled cannoneer had fire
m a random farewell. He sprang to his feet, rushed up the slopinank, and plunged into the forest.
l that day he traveled, laying his course by the rounding sun. Th
rest seemed interminable; nowhere did he discover a break in
ot even a woodman's road. He had not known that he lived in s
ld a region. There was something uncanny in the revelation.
y nightfall he was fatigued, footsore, famished. The thought of h
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fe and children urged him on. At last he found a road which led him
what he knew to be the right direction. It was as wide and straig
s a city street, yet it seemed untraveled. No fields bordered it, n
welling anywhere. Not so much as the barking of a dog suggeste
uman habitation. The black bodies of the trees formed a straig
all on both sides, terminating on the horizon in a point, like
agram in a lesson in perspective. Overhead, as he looked urough this rift in the wood, shone great golden stars lookin
nfamiliar and grouped in strange constellations. He was sure the
ere arranged in some order which had a secret and malig
gnificance. The wood on either side was full of singular noise
mong which--once, twice, and again--he distinctly heard whispers
n unknown tongue.
s neck was in pain and lifting his hand to it found it horribly swolle
e knew that it had a circle of black where the rope had bruised
s eyes felt congested; he could no longer close them. His tongu
as swollen with thirst; he relieved its fever by thrusting it forwar
om between his teeth into the cold air. How softly the turf ha
arpeted the untraveled avenue--he could no longer feel the roadwa
eneath his feet!
oubtless, despite his suffering, he had fallen asleep while walkin
r now he sees another scene--perhaps he has merely recovere
om a delirium. He stands at the gate of his own home. All is as h
ft it, and all bright and beautiful in the morning sunshine. He muave traveled the entire night. As he pushes open the gate an
asses up the wide white walk, he sees a flutter of female garment
s wife, looking fresh and cool and sweet, steps down from th
eranda to meet him. At the bottom of the steps she stands waiting
th a smile of ineffable joy, an attitude of matchless grace an
gnity. Ah, how beautiful she is! He springs forwards with extendems. As he is about to clasp her he feels a stunning blow upon th
ack of the neck; a blindin white li ht blazes all about him with
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ound like the shock of a cannon--then all is darkness and silence!
eyton Fahrquhar was dead; his body, with a broken neck, swun
ently from side to side beneath the timbers of the Owl Cree
idge.
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The Mocking-Bird
he time, a pleasant Sunday afternoon in the early autumn of 186
he place, a forest's heart in the mountain region of southweste
rginia. Private Grayrock of the Federal Army is discovered seate
omfortably at the root of a great pine tree, against which he lean
s legs extended straight along the ground, his rifle lying across h
ighs, his hands (clasped in order that they may not fall away to h
des) resting upon the barrel of the weapon. The contact of the bac
his head with the tree has pushed his cap downward over h
yes, almost concealing them; one seeing him would say that h
ept.
rivate Grayrock did not sleep; to have done so would hav
mperiled the interests of the United States, for he was a long wa
utside the lines and subject to capture or death at the hands of th
nemy. Moreover, he was in a frame of mind unfavorable. to repose
he cause of his perturbation of spirit was this: during the previou
ght he had served on the picket-guard, and had been posted as
entinel in this very forest. The night was clear, though moonless, bu
the gloom of the wood the darkness was deep. Grayrock's po
as at a considerable distance from those to right and left, for th
ckets had been thrown out a needless distance from the cam
aking the line too long for the force detailed to occupy it. The wa
as young, and military camps entertained the error that whieeping they were better protected by thin lines a long way o
ward the enemy than by thicker ones close in. And surely the
eeded as long notice as possible of an enemy's approach, for the
ere at that time addicted to the practice of undressing--than whic
othing could be more unsoldierly. On the morning of the memorab
h of April, at Shiloh, many of Grant's men when spitted oonfederate bayonets were as naked as civilians; but it should b
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owed that this was not because of any defect in their picket lin
heir error was of another sort: they had no pickets. This is perhap
vain digression. I should not care to undertake to interest th
ader in the fate of an army; what we have here to consider is that
rivate Grayrock.
or two hours after he had been left at his lonely post that Saturdaght he stood stock-still, leaning against the trunk of a large tre
aring into the darkness in his front and trying to recognize know
bjects; for he had been posted at the same spot during the day. B
was now different; he saw nothing in detail, but only groups
ings, whose shapes, not observed when there was somethin
ore of them to observe, were now unfamiliar. They seemed not tave been there before. A landscape that is all trees an
ndergrowth, moreover, lacks definition, is confused and witho
ccentuated points upon which attention can gain a foothold. Add th
oom of a moonless night, and something more than great natur
telligence and a city education is required to preserve one
nowledge of direction. And that is how it occurred that Privat
rayrock, after vigilantly watching the spaces in his front and the
mprudently executing a circumspection of his whole dimly visib
nvironment (silently walking around his tree to accomplish it) lost h
earings and seriously impaired his usefulness as a sentinel. Lost
s post--unable to say in which direction to look for an enemy
pproach, and in which lay the sleeping camp for whose security h
as accountable with his life--conscious, too, of many anothewkward feature of the situation and of considerations affecting h
wn safety, Private Grayrock was profoundly disquieted. Nor was h
ven time to recover his tranquillity, for almost at the moment that h
alized his awkward predicament he heard a stir of leaves and
nap of fallen twigs, and turning with a stilled heart in the directio
hence it came, saw in the gloom the indistinct outlines of a humagure.
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Halt!" shouted Private Grayrock, peremptorily as in duty boun
acking up the command with the sharp metallic snap of his cockin
le--"who goes there?"
here was no answer; at least there was an instant's hesitation, an
e answer, if it came, was lost in the report of the sentinel's rifle.
e silence of the night and the forest the sound was deafening, anardly had it died away when it was repeated by the pieces of th
ckets to right and left, a sympathetic fusillade. For two hours eve
nconverted civilian of them had been evolving enemies from h
magination, and peopling the woods in his front with them, an
rayrock's shot had started the whole encroaching host into visib
xistence. Having fired, all retreated, breathless, to the reserves--aut Grayrock, who did not know in what direction to retreat. When, n
nemy appearing, the roused camp two miles away had undresse
nd got itself into bed again, and the picket line was cautiously re
stablished, he was discovered bravely holding his ground, and wa
omplimented by the officer of the guard as the one soldier of th
evoted band who could rightly be considered the moral equivale
that uncommon unit of value, "a whoop in hell."
the mean time, however, Grayrock had made a close bu
navailing search for the mortal part of the intruder at whom he ha
ed, and whom he had a marksman's intuitive sense of having h
r he was one of those born experts who shoot without aim by a
stinctive sense of direction, and are nearly as dangerous by nigs by day. During a full half of his twenty-four years he had been
rror to the targets of all the shooting-galleries in three cities. Unab
ow to produce his dead game he had the discretion to hold h
ngue, and was glad to observe in his officer and comrades th
atural assumption that not having run away he had seen nothin
ostile. His "honorable mention" had been earned by not runninway anyhow.
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evertheless, Private Grayrock was far from satisfied with the night
dventure, and when the next day he made some fair enough prete
apply for a pass to go outside the lines, and the gener
ommanding promptly granted it in recognition of his bravery th
ght before, he passed out at the point where that had bee
splayed. Telling the sentinel then on duty there that he had los
omething,--which was true enough--he renewed the search for therson whom he supposed himself to have shot, and whom if on
ounded he hoped to trail by the blood. He was no more successf
y daylight than he had been in the darkness, and after covering
de area and boldly penetrating a long distance into "th
onfederacy" he gave up the search, somewhat fatigued, seate
mself at the root of the great pine tree, where we have seen himnd indulged his disappointment.
is not to be inferred that Grayrock's was the chagrin of a cru
ature balked of its bloody deed. In the clear large eyes, fine
rought lips, and broad forehead of that young man one could rea
uite another story, and in point of fact his character was a singular
licitous compound of boldness and sensibility, courage an
onscience.
find myself disappointed," he said to himself, sitting there at th
ottom of the golden haze submerging the forest like a subtler sea
isappointed in failing to discover a fellow-man dead by my hand
o I then really wish that I had taken life in the performance of a dus well performed without? What more could I wish? If any dange
reatened, my shot averted it; that is what I was there to do. No, I a
ad indeed if no human life was needlessly extinguished by me. B
am in a false position. I have suffered myself to be complimented b
y officers and envied by my comrades. The camp is ringing wi
aise of my courage. That is not just; I know myself courageous, bis praise is for specific acts which I did not perform, or performed
herwise. It is believed that I remained at m ost bravel , witho
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ing, whereas it was I who began the fusillade, and I did not retre
the general alarm because bewildered. What, then, shall I do
xplain that I saw an enemy and fired? They have all said that
emselves, yet none believes it. Shall I tell a truth which, discreditin
y courage, will have the effect of a lie? Ugh! it is an ugly busines
together. I wish to God I could find my man!"
nd so wishing, Private Grayrock, overcome at last by the languor
e afternoon and lulled by the stilly sounds of insects droning an
osing in certain fragrant shrubs, so far forgot the interests of th
nited States as to fall asleep and expose himself to capture. An
eeping he dreamed.
e thought himself a boy, living in a far, fair land by the border of
eat river upon which the tall steamboats moved grandly up an
own beneath their towering evolutions of black smoke, whic
nnounced them along before they had rounded the bends an
arked their movements when miles out of sight. With him always,
s side as he watched them, was one to whom he gave his hea
nd soul in love--a twin brother. Together they strolled along thanks of the stream; together explored the fields lying farther awa
om it, and gathered pungent mints and sticks of fragrant sassafra
the hills overlooking all--beyond which lay the Realm of Conjectur
nd from which, looking southward across the great river, the
aught glimpses of the Enchanted Land. Hand in hand and heart
eart they two, the only children of a widowed mother, walked aths of light through valleys of peace, seeing new things under
ew sun. And through all the golden days floated one unceasin
ound--the rich, thrilling melody of a mocking-bird in a cage by th
ottage door. It pervaded and possessed all the spiritual intervals o
e dream, like a musical benediction. The joyous bird was always
ong; its infinitely various notes seemed to flow from its throafortless, in bubbles and rills at each heart- beat, like the waters of
ulsin s rin . That fresh clear melod seemed indeed the s irit
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e scene, the meaning and interpretation to sense of the mysterie
life and love.
ut there came a time when the days of the dream grew dark wi
orrow in a rain of tears. The good mother was dead, th
eadowside home by the great river was broken up, and th
others were parted between two of their kinsmen. William (theamer) went to live in a populous city in the Realm of Conjectur
nd John, crossing the river into the Enchanted Lands, was taken t
distant region whose people in their lives and ways were said t
e strange and wicked. To him, in the distribution of the dea
other's estate, had fallen all that they deemed of value--th
ocking-bird. They could be divided, but it could not, so it waarried away into the strange country, and the world of William kne
no more forever. Yet still through the aftertime of his loneliness it
ong filled all the dream, and seemed always sounding in his ea
nd in his heart.
he kinsmen who had adopted the boys were enemies, holding n
ommunication. For a time letters full of boyish bravado and boastfarratives of the new and larger experience--grotesque description
their widening lives and the new worlds they had conquered
assed between them; but these gradually became less frequen
nd with William's removal to another and greater city cease
together. But ever through it all ran the song of the mocking-bird
nd when the dreamer opened his eyes and stared through thstas of the pine forest the cessation of its music first apprised hi
at he was awake.
he sun was low and red in the west; the level rays projected fro
e trunk of each giant pine a wall of shadow traversing the golde
aze to eastward until light and shade were blended
ndistinguishable blue.
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rivate Grayrock rose to his feet, looked cautiously about him
houldered his rifle and set off toward camp. He had gone perhaps
alf-mile, and was passing a thicket of laurel, when a bird rose fro
e midst of it and perching on the branch of a tree above, poure
om its joyous breast so inexhaustible floods of song as but one
God's creatures can utter in His praise. There was little in that-
as only to open the bill and breathe; yet the man stopped as ruck--stopped and let fall his rifle, looked upward at the bir
overed his eyes with his hands and wept like a child! For th
oment he was, indeed, a child, in spirit and in memory, dwellin
gain by the great river, over-against the Enchanted Land! Then wit
n effort of the will he pulled himself together, picked up his weapo
nd audibly damning himself for an idiot strode on. Passing apening that reached into the heart of the little thicket he looked i
nd there, supine upon the earth, its arms all abroad, its gray unifor
ained with a single spot of blood upon the breast, its white fac
rned sharply upward and backward, lay the image of himself!--th
ody of John Grayrock, dead of a gunshot wound, and still warm! H
ad found his man.
s the unfortunate soldier knelt beside that masterwork of civil wa
e shrilling bird upon the bough overhead stilled her song an
ushed with sunset's crimson glory, glided silently away through th
olemn spaces of the wood. At roll-call that evening in the Feder
amp the name William Grayrock brought no response, nor eve
gain thereafter.
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What Occurred at Franklin
or several days, in snow and rain, General Schofield's little arm
ad crouched in its hastily constructed defenses at Columbi
ennessee. It had retreated in hot haste from Pulaski, thirty miles t
e south, arriving just in time to foil Hood, who, marching fro
orence, Alabama, by another road, with a force of more tha
ouble our strength, had hoped to intercept us. Had he succeede
e would indubitably have bagged the whole bunch of us. As it was
e simply took position in front of us and gave us plenty o
mployment, but did not attack; he knew a trick worth two of that.
uck River was directly in our rear; I suppose both our flanks reste
n it. The town was between them. One night--that of November 2
864--we pulled up stakes and crossed to the north bank to continu
ur retreat to Nashville, where Thomas and safety lay--such safety a
known in war. It was high time too, for before noon of the next da
orrest's cavalry forded the river a few miles above us and bega
ushing back our own horse toward Spring Hill, ten miles in our rea
n our only road. Why our infantry was not immediately put in motio
ward the threatened point, so vital to our safety, General Schofie
ould have told better than I. Howbeit, we lay there inactive all day.
he next morning--a bright and beautiful one--the brigade of Colon
Sidney Post was thrown out, up the river four or five miles, to sehat it could see. What it saw was Hood's head-of-column comin
ver on a pontoon bridge, and a right pretty spectacle it would hav
een to one whom it did not concern. It concerned us rather keenly.
s a member of Colonel Post's staff, I was naturally favored with
ood view of the performance. We formed in line of battle at stance of perhaps a half-mile from the bridge-head, but th
nendin column of ra and steel ave us no more attention than
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e had been a crowd of farmer-folk. Why should it? It had only
ce to the left to be itself a line of battle. Meantime it had mor
gent business on hand than brushing away a small brigade whos
nly offense was curiosity; it was making for Spring Hill with all i
gs and wheels. Hour after hour we watched that unceasing flow
fantry and artillery toward the rear of our army. It was an unnervin
pectacle, yet we never for a moment doubted that, acting on thtelligence supplied by our succession of couriers, our entire forc
as moving rapidly to the point of contact. The battle of Spring H
as obviously decreed. Obviously, too, our brigade of observatio
ould be among the last to have a hand in it. The thought annoye
s, made us restless and resentful. Our mounted men rode forwar
nd back behind the line, nervous and distressed; the men in thnks sought relief in frequent changes of posture, in shifting the
eight from one leg to the other, in needless inspection of the
eapons and in that unfailing resource of the discontented soldie
udible damning of those in the saddles of authority. But never fo
ore than a moment at a time did anyone remove his eyes from th
scinating and portentous pageant.
oward evening we were recalled, to learn that of our five divisions
fantry, with their batteries, numbering twenty-three thousand me
nly one--Stanley's, four thousand weak--had been sent to Spring H
meet that formidable movement of Hood's three veteran corp
Why Stanley was not immediately effaced is still a matter
ontroversy. Hood, who was early on the ground, declared that have the needful orders and tried vainly to enforce them; Cheatham
command of his leading corps, declared that he did not. Doubtles
e dispute is still being carried on between these chieftains fro
eir beds of asphodel and moly in Elysium. So much is certai
anley drove away Forrest and successfully held the junction of th
ads against Cleburne's division, the only infantry that attacked him
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hat night the entire Confederate army lay within a half mile of o
ad, while we all sneaked by, infantry, artillery, and trains. Th
nemy's camp-fires shone redly--miles of them--seeming only
one's throw from our hurrying column. His men were plainly visib
bout them, cooking their suppers--a sight so incredible that many
ur own, thinking them friends, strayed over to them and did n
turn. At intervals of a few hundred yards we passed dim figures oorseback by the roadside, enjoining silence. Needless precautio
e could not have spoken if we had tried, for our hearts were in ou
roats. But fools are God's peculiar care, and one of his protectiv
ethods is the stupidity of other fools. By daybreak our last man an
st wagon had passed the fateful spot unchallenged, and our fir
ere entering Franklin, ten miles away. Despite spirited cavaltacks on trains and rear-guard, all were in Franklin by noon an
uch of the men as could be kept awake were throwing up a slig
e of defense, inclosing the town.
ranklin lies--or at that time did lie; I know not what exploration mig
ow disclose--on the south bank of a small river, the Harpeth b
ame. For two miles southward was a nearly flat, open plai
xtending to a range of low hills through which passed the turnpik
y which we had come. From some bluffs on the precipitous nor
ank of the river was a commanding overlook of all this open groun
hich, although more than a mile away, seemed almost at one's fee
n this elevated ground the wagon-train had been parked an
eneral Schofield had stationed himself--the former for security, thtter for outlook. Both were guarded by General Wood's infant
vision, of which my brigade was a part. "We are in beautiful luck
aid a member of the division staff. With some prevision of what wa
come and a lively recollection of the nervous strain of helples
bservation, I did not think it luck. In the activity of battle one does n
el one's hair going gray with vicissitudes of emotion.
or some reason to the writer unknown General Schofield ha
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ought along with him General D. S. Stanley, who commanded tw
his divisions--ours and another, which was not "in luck." In th
nsuing battle, when this excellent officer could stand the strain n
nger, he bolted across the bridge like a shot and found relief in th
ell below, where he was promptly tumbled out of the saddle by
ullet.
ur line, with its reserve brigades, was about a mile and a half lon
oth flanks on the river, above and below the town--a mere bridge
ead. It did not look a very formidable obstacle to the march of a
my of more than forty thousand men. In a more tranquil temper tha
s failure at Spring Hill had put him into Hood would probably hav
assed around our left and turned us out with ease--which woustly have entitled him to the Humane Society's great gold meda
pparently that was not his day for saving life.
bout the middle of the afternoon our field glasses picked up th
onfederate head-of-column emerging from the range of hil
eviously mentioned, where it is cut by the Columbia road. But
minous circumstance!--it did not come on. It turned to its left, at ght angle, moving along the base of the hills, parallel to our lin
ther heads-of-column came through other gaps and over the cres
rther along, impudently deploying on the level ground with
pectacular display of flags and glitter of arms. I do not remembe
at they were molested, even by the guns of General Wagner, wh
ad been foolishly posted with two small brigades across thrnpike, a half-mile in our front, where he was needless for appris
nd powerless for resistance. My recollection is that our fellow
own there in their shallow trenches noted these portentou
spositions without the least manifestation of incivility. As a matte
fact, many of them were permitted by their compassionate office
sleep. And truly it was good weather for that: sleep was in the vemosphere. The sun burned crimson in a gra -blue sk through
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elicate Indian-summer haze, as beautiful as a daydream
aradise. If one had been given to moralizing one might have foun
aterial a-plenty for homilies in the contrast between that peacef
utumn afternoon and the bloody business that it had in hand. If an
ood chaplain failed to "improve the occasion" let us hope that h
ed to lament in sackcloth-of-gold and ashes-of-roses h
tellectual unthrift.
he putting of that army into battle shape--its change from column
to lines--could not have occupied more than an hour or two, yet
eemed an eternity. Its leisurely evolutions were irritating, but at last
oved forward with atoning rapidity and the fight was on. First, th
orm struck Wagner's isolated brigades, which, vanishing in fire anmoke, instantly reappeared as a confused mass of fugitive
extricably intermingled with their pursuers. They had not stayed th
dvance a moment, and as might have been foreseen were now
eril to the main line, which could protect itself only by the slaughte
its friends. To the right and left, however, our guns got into play
nd simultaneously a furious infantry fire broke out along the entir
ont, the paralyzed center excepted. But nothing could stay thos
allant rebels from a hand-to-hand encounter with bayonet and bu
nd it was accorded to them with hearty goodwill.
eantime Wagner's conquerors were pouring across the breastwo
e water over a dam. The guns that had spared the fugitives ha
ow no time to fire; their infantry supports gave way and for a spacmore than two hundred yards in the very center of our line th
ssailants, mad with exultation, had everything their own way. From
e right and the left their gray masses converged into the ga
ushed through, and then, spreading, turned our men out of th
orks so hardly held against the attack in their front. From ou
ewpoint on the bluff we could mark the constant widening of thap, the steady encroachment of that blazing and smoking mas
ainst its disordered o osition.
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is all up with us," said Captain Dawson, of Wood's staff; "I a
oing to have a quiet smoke."
do not doubt that he supposed himself to have borne the heat an
urden of the strife. In the midst of his preparations for a smoke h
aused and looked again--a new tumult of musketry had brokeose. Colonel Emerson Opdycke had rushed his reserve brigad
to the melee and was bitterly disputing the Confederate advantag
ther fresh regiments joined in the countercharge, commanderles
oups of retreating men returned to their work, and there ensued
and-to-hand contest of incredible fury. Two long, irregular, mutabl
nd tumultuous blurs of color were consuming each other's edgong the line of contact. Such devil's work does not last long, and w
ad the great joy to see it ending, not as it began, but "more nearly t
e heart's desire." Slowly the mobile blur moved away from th
wn, and presently the gray half of it dissolved into its element
nits, all in slow recession. The retaken guns in the embrasure
ushed up towering clouds of white smoke; to east and to west alon
e reoccupied parapet ran a line of misty red till the spitfire creas without a break from flank to flank. Probably there was som
ankee cheering, as doubtless there had been the "rebel yell," b
y memory recalls neither. There are many battles in a war, an
any incidents in a battle: one does not recollect everythin
ossibly I have not a retentive ear.
While this lively work had been doing in the center, there had bee
o lack of diligence elsewhere, and now all were as busy as bees
ave read of many "successive attacks"--"charge after charge"--bu
ink the only assaults after the first were those of the secon
onfederate lines and possibly some of the reserves; certainly the
ere no visible abatement and renewal of effort anywhere exce
here the men who had been pushed out of the works backwar
ed to re-enter. And all the time there was fighting.
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fter resetting their line the victors could not clear their front, for th
affled assailants would not desist. All over the open country in the
ar, clear back to the base of the hills, drifted the wreck of battle, th
ounded that were able to walk; and through the receding thron
ushed forward, here and there, horsemen with orders and footme
hom we knew to be bearing ammunition. There were no wagono caissons: the enemy was not using, and could not use, h
tillery. Along the line of fire we could see, dimly in the smoke
ounted officers, singly and in small groups, attempting to force the
orses across the slight parapet, but all went down. Of this devote
and was the gallant General Adams, whose body was found upo
e slope, and whose animal's forefeet were actually inside the creseneral Cleburne lay a few paces farther out, and five or six othe
eneral officers sprawled elsewhere. It was a great day fo
onfederates in the line of promotion.
or many minutes at a time broad spaces of battle were veiled
moke. Of what might be occurring there conjecture gave a terrifyin
port. In a visible peril observation is kind of defense; against thnseen we lift a trembling hand. Always from these regions o
bscurity we expected the worst, but always the lifted cloud reveale
n unaltered situation.
he assailants began to give way. There was no general retreat;
any points the fight continued, with lessening ferocity anngthening range, well into the night. It became an affair of twinklin
usketry and broad flares of artillery; then it sank to silence in th
ark.
nder orders to continue his retreat, Schofield could now do s
nmolested: Hood had suffered so terrible a loss in life and mora
at he was in no condition for effective pursuit. As at Spring Hiaybreak found us on the road with all our impedimenta exce
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ome of our wounded, and that night we encamped under th
otecting guns of Thomas, at Nashville. Our gallant enem
udaciously followed, and fortified himself within rifle-reach, whe
e remained for two weeks without firing a gun and was the
estroyed.
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The Other Lodgers
n order to take that train," said Colonel Levering, sitting in th
Waldorf-Astoria hotel, "you will have to remain nearly all night
lanta. That is a fine city, but I advise you not to put up at th
reathitt House, one of the principal hotels. It is an old woode
uilding in urgent need of repairs. There are breaches in the wal
at you could throw a cat through. The bedrooms have no locks o
e doors, no furniture but a single chair in each, and a bedstea
thout bedding--just a mattress. Even these meag
ccommodations you cannot be sure that you will have in monopol
ou must take your chance of being stowed in with a lot of others. Ss a most abominable hotel.
The night that I passed in it was an uncomfortable night. I got in lat
nd was shown to my room on the ground floor by an apologet
ght-clerk with a tallow candle, which he considerately left with me
as worn out by two days and a night of hard railway travel and ha
ot entirely recovered from a gunshot wound in the head, received
n altercation. Rather than look for better quarters I lay down on th
attress without removing my clothing and fell asleep.
Along toward morning I awoke. The moon had risen and wa
hining in at the uncurtained window, illuminating the room with
oft, bluish light which seemed, somehow, a bit spooky, thoughare say it had no uncommon quality; all moonlight is that way if yo
ll observe it. Imagine my surprise and indignation when I saw th
oor occupied by at least a dozen other lodgers! I sat up, earnest
amning the management of that unthinkable hotel, and was about
pring from the bed to go and make trouble for the night- clerk--hi
the apologetic manner and the tallow candle--when something e situation affected me with a strange indisposition to move.
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uppose I was what a story-writer might call 'frozen with terror.' Fo
ose men were obviously all dead!
They lay on their backs, disposed orderly along three sides of th
om, their feet to the walls--against the other wall, farthest from th
oor, stood my bed and the chair. All the faces were covered, bu
nder their white cloths the features of the two bodies that lay in thquare patch of moonlight near the window showed in sharp profi
s to nose and chin.
thought this a bad dream and tried to cry out, as one does in
ghtmare, but could make no sound. At last, with a desperate effor
rew my feet to the floor and passing between the two rows oouted faces and the two bodies that lay nearest the door, I escape
om the infernal place and ran to the office. The night- clerk wa
ere, behind the desk, sitting in the dim light of another tallo
andle--just sitting and staring. He did not rise: my abrupt entranc
oduced no effect upon him, though I must have looked a veritab
orpse myself. It occurred to me then that I had not before real
bserved the fellow. He was a little chap, with a colorless face ane whitest, blankest eyes I ever saw. He had no more expressio
an the back of my hand. His clothing was a dirty gray.
Damn you!' I said; 'what do you mean?'
ust the same, I was shaking like a leaf in the wind and did ncognize my own voice.
The night-clerk rose, bowed (apologetically) and--well, he was n
nger there, and at that moment I felt a hand laid upon my shoulde
om behind. Just fancy that if you can! Unspeakably frightened,
rned and saw a portly, kind-faced gentleman, who asked:
What is the matter, my friend?'
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was not long in telling him, but before I made an end of it he we
ale himself. 'See here,' he said, 'are you telling the truth?'
had now got myself in hand and terror had given place t
dignation. 'If you dare to doubt it,' I said, 'I'll hammer the life out
ou!'
No,' he replied, 'don't do that; just sit down till I tell you. This is not
otel. It used to be; afterward it was a hospital. Now it is unoccupie
waiting a tenant. The room that you mention was the dead-room
ere were always plenty of dead. The fellow that you call the nigh
erk used to be that, but later he booked the patients as they wer
ought in. I don't understand his being here. He has been dead w weeks.'
And who are you?' I blurted out.
Oh, I look after the premises. I happened to be passing just now
nd seeing a light in here came in to investigate. Let us have a loo
to that room,' he added, lifting the sputtering candle from the desk
ll see you at the devil first!' said I, bolting out of the door into th
reet.
Sir, that Breathitt House, in Atlanta, is a beastly place! Don't yo
op there."
God forbid! Your account of it certainly does not suggest comfor
y the way, Colonel, when did all that occur?"
n September, 1864--shortly after the siege."
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The Crime at Pickett's Mill
here is a class of events which by their very nature, and despite an
trinsic interest that they may possess, are foredoomed to oblivio
hey are merged in the general story of those greater events
hich they were a part, as the thunder of a billow breaking on
stant beach is unnoted in the continuous roar. To how many havin
nowledge of the battles of our Civil War does the name Pickett
ill suggest acts of heroism and devotion performed in scenes
wful carnage to accomplish the impossible? Buried in the offici
ports of the victors there are indeed imperfect accounts of th
ngagement: the vanquished have not thought it expedient to relatIt is ignored by General Sherman in his memoirs, yet Sherma
dered it. General Howard wrote an account of the campaign
hich it was an incident, and dismissed it in a single sentence; y
eneral Howard planned it, and it was fought as an isolated an
dependent action under his eye. Whether it was so trifling an affa
s to justify this inattention let the reader judge.
he fight occurred on the 27th of May, 1864, while the armies o
enerals Sherman and Johnston confronted each other near Dalla
eorgia, during the memorable "Atlanta campaign." For thre
eeks we had been pushing the Confederates southward, partly b
aneuvering, partly by fighting, out of Dalton, out of Resaca, throug
dairsville, Kingston and Cassville. Each army offered battverywhere, but would accept it only on its own terms. At Dalla
ohnston made another stand and Sherman, facing the hostile lin
egan his customary maneuvering for an advantage. Gener
Wood's division of Howard's corps occupied a position opposite th
onfederate right. Johnston finding himself on the 26th overlappe
y Schofield, still farther to Wood's left, retired his right (Polk) acroscreek, whither we followed him into the woods with a deal
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esultory bickering, and at nightfall had established the new lines
early a right angle with the old--Schofield reaching well around an
reatening the Confederate rear.
he civilian reader must not suppose when he reads accounts
ilitary operations in which relative position of the forces a
efined, as in the foregoing passages, that these were matters eneral knowledge to those engaged. Such statements a
ommonly made, even by those high in command, in the light of late
sclosures, such as the enemy's official reports. It is seldom
deed, that a subordinate officer knows anything about th
sposition of the enemy's forces--except that it is unamiable--o
ecisely whom he is fighting. As to the rank and file, they can knoothing more of the matter than the arms they carry. They hard
now what troops are upon their own right or left the length of
giment away. If it is a cloudy day they are ignorant even of th
oints of the compass. It may be said, generally, that a soldier
nowledge of what is going on about him is coterminous with h
ficial relation to it and his personal connection with it; what is goin
n in front of him he does not know at all until he learns it afterward.
t nine o'clock on the morning of the 27th Wood's division wa
thdrawn and replaced by Stanley's. Supported by Johnston
vision, it moved at ten o'clock to the left, in the rear of Schofield,
stance of four miles through a forest, and at two o'clock in th
ternoon had reached a position where General Howard believemself free to move in behind the enemy's forces and attack them
e rear, or at least, striking them in the flank, crush his way alon
eir line in the direction of its length, throw them into confusion an
epare an easy victory for a supporting attack in front. In selectin
eneral Howard for this bold adventure General Sherman wa
oubtless not unmindful of Chancellorsville, where Stonewaackson had executed a similiar manoeuvre for Howard's instructio
x erience is a normal school: it teaches how to teach.
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here are some differences to be noted. At Chancellorsville it wa
ackson who attacked; at Pickett's Mill, Howard. At Chancellorsvil
was Howard who was assailed; at Pickett's Mill, Hood. Th
gnificance of the first distinction is doubled by that of the second.
he attack, it was understood, was to be made in column igades, Hazen's brigade of Wood's division leading. That suc
as at least Hazen's understanding I learned from his own lips durin
e movement, as I was an officer of his staff. But after a march
ss than a mile an hour and a further delay of three hours at the en
it to acquaint the enemy of our intention to surprise him, our sing
hrunken brigade of fifteen hundred men was sent forward withoupport to double up the army of General Johnston. "We will put
azen and see what success he has." In the words of General Woo
General Howard we were first apprised of the true nature of th
stinction about to be conferred upon us.
eneral W. B. Hazen, a born fighter, an educated soldier, after th
ar Chief Signal Officer of the Army and now long dead, was thest hated man that I ever knew, and his very memory is a terror t
very unworthy soul in the service. His was a stormy life: he was
ouble all around. Grant, Sherman, Sheridan and a countles
ultitude of the less eminent luckless had the misfortune, at one tim
nd another, to incur his disfavor, and he tried to punish them all. H
as always--after the war--the central figure of a court martial or ongressional inquiry, was accused of everything, from stealing t
owardice, was banished to obscure posts, "jumped on" by th
ess, traduced in public and in private, and always emerge
umphant. While Signal Officer, he went up against the Secretary o
War and put him to the controversial sword. He convicted Sherida
falsehood, Sherman of barbarism, Grant of inefficiency. He wa
ggressive, arrogant, tyrannical, honorable, truthful, courageous--
killful soldier, a faithful friend and one of the most exasperating o
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en. Duty was his religion, and like the Moslem he proselyted wi
e sword. His missionary efforts were directed chiefly against th
piritual darkness of his superiors in rank, though he would tu
side from pursuit of his erring commander to set a chicken-thievin
derly astride a wooden horse, with a heavy stone attached to eac
ot. "Hazen," said a brother brigadier, "is a synonym o
subordination." For my commander and my friend, my master e art of war, now unable to answer for himself, let this fact answe
hen he heard Wood say they would put him in and see wh
uccess he would have in defeating an army--when he saw Howar
ssent--he uttered never a word, rode to the head of his feeb
igade and patiently awaited the command to go. Only by a loo
hich I knew how to read did he betray his sense of the criminunder.
he enemy had now had seven hours in which to learn of th
ovement and prepare to meet it. General Johnston says:
The Federal troops extended their intrenched line [we did n
trench] so rapidly to their left that it was found necessary to transfeeburne's division to Hardee's corps to our right, where it wa
rmed on the prolongation of Polk's line."
eneral Hood, commanding the enemy's right corps, says:
On the morning of the 27th the enemy were known to be rapidxtending their left, attempting to turn my right as they extende
eburne was deployed to meet them, and at half-past five p. m.,
ery stubborn attack was made on this division, extending to th
ght, where Major-General Wheeler with his cavalry division wa
ngaging them. The assault was continued with great determinatio
pon both Cleburne and Wheeler."
hat, then, was the situation: a weak brigade of fifteen hundred me
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th masses of idle troops behind in the character of audienc
aiting for the word to march a quarter-mile uphill through almo
mpassable tangles of underwood, along and across precipitou
vines, and attack breastworks constructed at leisure and manne
th two divisions of troops as good as themselves. True, we did no
now all this, but if any man on that ground besides Wood an
oward expected a "walkover" his must have been a singularopeful disposition. As topographical engineer it had been my du
make a hasty examination of the ground in front. In doing so I ha
ushed far enough forward through the forest to hear distinctly th
urmur of the enemy awaiting us, and this had been duly reporte
ut from our lines nothing could be heard but the wind among th
ees and the songs of birds. Some one said it was a pity to frighteem, but there would necessarily be more or less noise. W
ughed at that: men awaiting death on the battlefield laugh easily
ough not infectiously.
he brigade was formed in four battalions, two in front and two
ar. This gave us a front of about two hundred yards. The right fron
attalion was commanded by Colonel R. L. Kimberly of the 41
hio, the left by Colonel O. H. Payne of the 124th Ohio, the rea
attalions by Colonel J. C. Foy, 23rd Kentucky, and Colonel W. W
erry, 5th Kentucky--all brave and skillful officers, tested b
xperience on many fields. The whole command (known as th
econd Brigade, Third Division, Fourth Corps) consisted of no fewe
an nine regiments, reduced by long service to an average of lesan two hundred men each. With full ranks and only the necessa
etails for special duty we should have had some eight thousan
les in line.
We moved forward. In less than one minute the trim battalions ha
ecome simply a swarm of men struggling through the undergrowthe forest, pushing and crowding. The front was irregular
errated, the stron est and bravest in advance, the others followin
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fan-like formations, variable and inconstant, ever definin
emselves anew. For the first two hundred yards our course la
ong the left bank of a small creek in a deep ravine, our le
attalions sweeping along its steep slope. Then we came to the fo
the ravine. A part of us crossed below, the rest above, passin
ver both branches, the regiments inextricably intermingle
ndering all military formation impossible. The color-bearers keell to the front with their flags, closely furled, aslant backward ove
eir shoulders. Displayed, they would have been torn to rags by th
oughs of the trees. Horses were all sent to the rear; the general an
aff and all the field officers toiled along on foot as best they coul
We shall halt and form when we get out of this" said an aide-de
amp.
uddenly there came a ringing rattle of musketry, the familiar hissin
bullets, and before us the interspaces of the forest were all blu
th smoke. Hoarse, fierce yells broke out of a thousand throats. Th
rward fringe of brave and hardy assailants was arrested in i
utable extensions; the edge of our swarm grew dense and clear
efined as the foremost halted, and the rest pressed forward to alig
emselves beside them, all firing. The uproar was deafening; the a
as sibilant with streams and sheets of missiles. In the steady
nvarying roar of small-arms the frequent shock of the cannon wa
ther felt than heard, but the gusts of grape which they blew into th
opulous wood were audible enough, screaming among the tree
nd cracking their stems and branches. We had, of course, ntillery to reply.
ur brave color-bearers were now all in the forefront of battle in th
pen, for the enemy had cleared a space in front of his breastwork
hey held the colors erect, shook out their glories, waved the
rward and back to keep them spread, for there was no wind. Frohere I stood, at the right of the line--we had "halted and formed
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deed--I could see six of our flags at one time. Occasionally on
ould go down, only to be instantly lifted by other hands.
must here quote again from General Johnston's account of th
ngagement, for nothing could more truly indicate the resolute natur
the attack than the Confederate belief that it was made by th
hole Fourth Corps, instead of one weak brigade:
The Fourth Corps came on in deep order and assailed the Texan
th great vigor, receiving their close and accurate fire with th
rtitude always exhibited by General Sherman's troops in th
ctions of this campaign.... The Federal troops approached within
w yards of the Confederates, but at last were forced to give way beir storm of welldirected bullets, and fell back to the shelter of
ollow near and behind them. They left hundreds of corpses with
wenty paces of the Confederate line. When the United States troop
aused in their advance within fifteen paces of the Texas front ran
ne of their color-bearers planted his colors eight or ten feet in fro
his regiment, and was instantly shot dead. A soldier spran
rward to his place and fell also as he grasped the color-staff. econd and third followed successively, and each received death a
peedily as his predecessors. A fourth, however, seized and bor
ack the object of soldierly devotion."
uch incidents have occurred in battle from time to time since me
egan to venerate the symbols of their cause, but they are nommonly related by the enemy. If General Johnston had known tha
s veteran divisions were throwing their successive lines again
wer than fifteen hundred men his glowing tribute to his enemy
alor could hardly have been more generously expressed. I ca
test the truth of his soldierly praise: I saw the occurrence that h
lates and regret that I am unable to recall even the name of th
giment whose colors were so gallantly saved.
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arly in my military experience I used to ask myself how it was tha
ave troops could retreat while still their courage was high. As lon
s a man is not disabled he can go forward; can it be anything b
ar that makes him stop and finally retire? Are there signs by whic
e can infallibly know the struggle to be hopeless? In th
ngagement, as in others, my doubts were answered as to the fac
e explanation is still obscure. In many instances which have comnder my observation, when hostile lines of infantry engage at clos
nge and the assailants afterward retire, there was a "dead-line
eyond which no man advanced but to fall. Not a soul of them eve
ached the enemy's front to be bayoneted or captured. It was
atter of the difference of three or four paces--too small a distanc
affect the accuracy of aim. In these affairs no aim is taken adividual antagonists; the soldier delivers his fire at the thicke
ass in his front. The fire is, of course, as deadly at twenty paces a
fifteen; at fifteen as at ten. Nevertheless, there is the "dead-line
th its well-defined edge of corpses--those of the bravest. Wher
oth lines are fighting with-out cover--as in a charge met by
ounter-charge--each has its "dead-line," and between the two is
ear space--neutral ground, devoid of dead, for the living cann
ach it to fall there.
observed this phenomenon at Pickett's Mill. Standing at the right
e line I had an unobstructed view of the narrow, open space acros
hich the two lines fought. It was dim with smoke, but not great
bscured: the smoke rose and spread in sheets among thanches of the trees. Most of our men fought kneeling as they fire
any of them behind trees, stones and whatever cover they cou
et, but there were considerable groups that stood. Occasionally on
these groups, which had endured the storm of missiles f
oments without perceptible reduction, would push forward, move
y a common despair, and wholly detach itself from the line. In econd every man of the group would be down. There had been n
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sible movement of the enemy, no audible change in the awful, eve
ar of the firing--yet all were down. Frequently the dim figure of a
dividual soldier would be seen to spring away from his comrade
dvancing alone toward that fateful interspace, with leveled bayone
e got no farther than the farthest of his predecessors. Of th
undreds of corpses within twenty paces of the Confederate line,
enture to say that a third were within fifteen paces, and not onthin ten.
is the perception--perhaps unconscious--of this inexplicab
henomenon that causes the still unharmed, still vigorous and st
ourageous soldier to retire without having come into actual conta
th his foe. He sees, or feels, that he cannot. His bayonet is seless weapon for slaughter; its purpose is a moral one. I
andate exhausted, he sheathes it and trusts to the bullet. Th
iling, he retreats. He has done all that he could do with suc
ppliances as he has.
o command to fall back was given, none could have been hear
an by man, the survivors with-drew at will, sifting through the treeto the cover of the ravines, among the wounded who could dra
emselves back; among the skulkers whom nothing could hav
agged forward. The left of our short line had fought at the corner
cornfield, the fence along the right side of which was parallel to th
rection of our retreat. As the disorganized groups fell back alon
is fence on the wooded side, they were attacked by a flankinrce of the enemy moving through the field in a direction near
arallel with what had been our front. This force, I infer from Gener
ohnston's account, consisted of the brigade of General Lowry, o
wo Arkansas regiments under Colonel Baucum. I had been sent b
eneral Hazen to that point and arrived in time to witness th
rmidable movement. But already our retreating men, in obedienctheir officers, their courage and their instinct of self-preservatio
ad formed alon the fence and o ened fire. The a arentl sli
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dvantage of the imperfect cover and the open range worked i
ustomary miracle: the assault, a singularly spiritless on
onsidering the advantages it promised and that it was made by a
ganized and victorious force against a broken and retreating on
as checked. The assailants actually retired, and if they afterwa
newed the movement they encountered none but our dead an
ounded.
he battle, as a battle, was at an end, but there was still som
aughtering that it was possible to incur before nightfall; and as th
reck of our brigade drifted back through the forest we met th
igade (Gibson's) which, had the attack been made in column, as
hould have been, would have been but five minutes behind oueels, with another five minutes behind its own. As it was, just forty
ve minutes had elapsed, during which the enemy had destroyed u
nd was now ready to perform the same kindly office for ou
uccessors. Neither Gibson nor the brigade which was sent to h
elief" as tardily as he to ours accomplished, or could have hoped
ccomplish, anything whatever. I did not note their movement
aving other duties, but Hazen in his "Narrative of Military Service
ays:
witnessed the attack of the two brigades following my own, an
one of these (troops) advanced nearer than one hundred yards
e enemy's works. They went in at a run, and as organizations wer
oken in less than a minute."
evertheless their losses were considerable, including sever
undred prisoners taken from a sheltered place whence they did n
are to rise and run. The entire loss was about fourteen hundre
en, of whom nearly one-half fell killed and wounded in Hazen
igade in less than thirty minutes of actual fighting.
eneral Johnston says:
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The Federal dead lying near our line were counted by man
ersons, officers and soldiers. According to these counts there wer
even hundred of them."
his is obviously erroneous, though I have not the means at hand t
scertain the true number. I remember that we were all astonished ae uncommonly large proportion of dead to wounded--
onsequence of the uncommonly close range at which most of th
ghting was done.
he action took its name from a waterpower mill near by. This wa
n a branch of a stream having, I am sorry to say, the prosaic nam
Pumpkin Vine Creek. I have my own reasons for suggesting the name of that water-course be altered to Sunday-School Run.
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What I Saw of Shiloh
his is a simple story of a battle; such a tale as may be told by
oldier who is no writer to a reader who is no soldier.
he morning of Sunday, the sixth day of April, 1862, was bright an
arm. Reveille had been sounded rather late, for the troops, wearie
th long marching, were to have a day of rest. The men were idlin
bout the embers of their bivouac fires; some preparing breakfas
hers looking carelessly to the condition of their arms anccoutrements, against the inevitable inspection; still others wer
hatting with indolent dogmatism on that never-failing theme, the en
nd object of the campaign. Sentinels paced up and down th
onfused front with a lounging freedom of mien and stride that wou
ot have been tolerated at another time. A few of them limpe
nsoldierly in deference to blistered feet. At a little distance in rear o
e stacked arms were a few tents out of which frowsy-heade
ficers occasionally peered, languidly calling to their servants
tch a basin of water, dust a coat or polish a scabbard. Trim youn
ounted orderlies, bearing dispatches obviously unimportant, urge
eir lazy nags by devious ways amongst the men, enduring wi
nconcern their good-humored raillery, the penalty of superio
ation. Little negroes of not very clearly defined status and functioled on their stomachs, kicking their long, bare heels in th
unshine, or slumbered peacefully, unaware of the practical wagge
epared by white hands for their undoing.
resently the flag hanging limp and lifeless at headquarters wa
een to lift itself spiritedly from the staff. At the same instant waeard a dull, distant sound like the heavy breathing of some gre
nimal below the horizon. The fla had lifted its head to listen. The
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as a momentary lull in the hum of the human swarm; then, as th
ag drooped the hush passed away. But there were some hundred
ore men on their feet than before; some thousands of hear
eating with a quicker pulse.
gain the flag made a warning sign, and again the breeze bore t
ur ears the long, deep sighing of iron lungs. The division, as if it haceived the sharp word of command, sprang to its feet, and stood
oups at "attention." Even the little blacks got up. I have since see
milar effects produced by earthquakes; I am not sure but th
ound was trembling then. The mess-cooks, wise in the
eneration, lifted the steaming camp-kettles off the fire and stood b
cast out. The mounted orderlies had somehow disappearefficers came ducking from beneath their tents and gathered
oups. Headquarters had become a swarming hive.
he sound of the great guns now came in regular throbbings--th
rong, full pulse of the fever of battle. The flag flapped excitedly
haking out its blazonry of stars and stripes with a sort of fierc
elight. Toward the knot of officers in its shadow dashed fromomewhere--he seemed to have burst out of the ground in a cloud
ust--a mounted aide-de-camp, and on the instant rose the shar
ear notes of a bugle, caught up and repeated, and passed on b
her bugles, until the level reaches of brown fields, the line of wood
ending away to far hills, and the unseen valleys beyond were "tellin
the sound," the farther, fainter strains half drowned in ringinheers as the men ran to range themselves behind the stacks
ms. For this call was not the wearisome "general" before which th
nts go down; it was the exhilarating "assembly," which goes to th
eart as wine and stirs the blood like the kisses of a beautif
oman. Who that has heard it calling to him above the grumble
eat guns can forget the wild intoxication of its music?
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he Confederate forces in Kentucky and Tennessee had suffered
eries of reverses, culminating in the loss of Nashville. The blow wa
evere: immense quantities of war material had fallen to the victo
gether with all the important strategic points. General Johnsto
thdrew Beauregard's army to Corinth, in northern Mississipp
here he hoped so to recruit and equip it as to enable it to assume offensive and retake the lost territory.
he town of Corinth was a wretched place--the capital of a swamp.
two days' march west of the Tennessee River, which here and fo
hundred and fifty miles farther, to where it falls into the Ohio a
aducah, runs nearly north. It is navigable to this point--that is to saPittsburg Landing, where Corinth got to it by a road worn through
ickly wooded country seamed with ravines and bayous, risin
obody knows where and running into the river under sylvan arche
eavily draped with Spanish moss. In some places they wer
bstructed by fallen trees. The Corinth road was at certain seasons
anch of the Tennessee River. Its mouth was Pittsburg Landing
ere in 1862 were some fields and a house or two; now there are ational cemetery and other improvements.
was at Pittsburg Landing that Grant established his army, with
ver in his rear and two toy steamboats as a means
ommunication with the east side, whither General Buell with thir
ousand men was moving from Nashville to join him. The questioas been asked, Why did General Grant occupy the enemy's side
e river in the face of a superior force before the arrival of Buel
uell had a long way to come; perhaps Grant was weary of waitin
ertainly Johnston was, for in the gray of the morning of April 6t
hen Buell's leading division was en bivouac near the little town
avannah, eight or ten miles below, the Confederate forces, havin
oved out of Corinth two days before, fell upon Grant's advanc
igades and destroyed them. Grant was at Savannah, but hastene
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the Landing in time to find his camps in the hands of the enem
nd the remnants of his beaten army cooped up with an impassab
ver at their backs for moral support. I have related how the news
is affair came to us at Savannah. It came on the wind--
essenger that does not bear copious details.
n the side of the Tennessee River, over against Pittsburg Landing
e some low bare hills, partly inclosed by a forest. In the dusk of th
vening of April 6 this open space, as seen from the other side of th
ream--whence, indeed, it was anxiously watched by thousands
yes, to many of which it grew dark long before the sun went downould have appeared to have been ruled in long, dark lines, with ne
es being constantly drawn across. These lines were the regimen
Buell's leading division, which having moved from Savanna
rough a country presenting nothing but interminable swamps an
athless "bottom lands," with rank overgrowths of jungle, was arrivin
the scene of action breathless, footsore and faint with hunger.
ad been a terrible race; some regiments had lost a third of theumber from fatigue, the men dropping from the ranks as if shot, an
ft to recover or die at their leisure. Nor was the scene to which the
ad been invited likely to inspire the moral confidence th
edicines physical fatigue. True, the air was full of thunder and th
arth was trembling beneath their feet; and if there is truth in th
eory of the conversion of force, these men were storing up energom every shock that burst its waves upon their bodies. Perhaps th
eory may better than another explain the tremendous endurance
en in battle. But the eyes reported only matter for despair.
efore us ran the turbulent river, vexed with plunging shells an
bscured in spots by blue sheets of low-lying smoke. The two litt
eamers were doing their duty well. They came over to us emp
nd went back crowded, sitting very low in the water, apparently o
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e point of capsizing. The farther edge of the water could not b
een; the boats came out of the obscurity, took on their passenger
nd vanished in the darkness. But on the heights above, the batt
as burning brightly enough; a thousand lights kindled and expired
very second of time. There were broad flushings in the sky, agains
hich the branches of the trees showed black. Sudden flames bur
ut here and there, singly and in dozens. Fleeting streaks of firossed over to us by way of welcome. These expired in blindin
ashes and fierce little rolls of smoke, attended with the peculia
etallic ring of bursting shells, and followed by the musical hummin
the fragments as they struck into the ground on every side, makin
s wince, but doing little harm. The air was full of noises. To the righ
nd the left the musketry rattled smartly and petulantly; directly in frosighed and growled. To the experienced ear this meant that th
eath-line was an arc of which the river was the chord. There wer
eep, shaking explosions and smart shocks; the whisper of stra
ullets and the hurtle of conical shells; the rush of round shot. Ther
ere faint, desultory cheers, such as announce a momentary o
artial triumph. Occasionally, against the glare behind the tree
ould be seen moving black figures, singularly distinct but apparent
o longer than a thumb. They seemed to me ludicrously like th
gures of demons in old allegorical prints of hell. To destroy thes
nd all their belongings the enemy needed but another hour
aylight; the steamers in that case would have been doing him fin
ervice by bringing more fish to his net. Those of us who had th
ood fortune to arrive late could then have eaten our teeth mportant rage. Nay, to make his victory sure it did not need that th
un should pause in the heavens; one of many random shots fallin
to the river would have done the business had chance directed
to the engine-room of a steamer. You can perhaps fancy th
nxiety with which we watched them leaping down.
ut we had two other allies besides the night. Just where the enem
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ad pushed his right flank to the river was the mouth of a wide bayo
nd here two gunboats had taken station. They too were of the to
ort, plated perhaps with railway metals, perhaps with boiler-iro
hey staggered under a heavy gun or two each. The bayou made a
pening in the high bank of the river. The bank was a parape
ehind which the gunboats crouched, firing up the bayou as throug
n embrasure. The enemy was at this disadvantage: he could not gthe gunboats, and he could advance only by exposing his flank t
eir ponderous missiles, one of which would have broken a half-mi
his bones and made nothing of it. Very annoying this must hav
een--these twenty gunners beating back an army because
uggish creek had been pleased to fall into a river at one poi
ther than another. Such is the part that accident may play in thame of war.
s a spectacle this was rather fine. We could just discern the blac
odies of these boats, looking very much like turtles. But when the
t off their big guns there was a conflagration. The river shuddere
its banks, and hurried on, bloody, wounded, terrified! Objects
ile away sprang toward our eyes as a snake strikes at the face
s victim. The report stung us to the brain, but we blessed it audibl
hen we could hear the great shell tearing away through the air un
e sound died out in the distance; then, a surprisingly long tim
terward, a dull, distant explosion and a sudden silence of sma
ms told their own tale.
here was, I remember, no elephant on the boat that passed u
cross that evening, nor, I think, any hippopotamus. These wou
ave been out of place. We had, however, a woman. Whether th
aby was somewhere on board I did not learn. She was a fin
eature, this woman; somebody's wife. Her mission, as sh
nderstood it, was to inspire the failing heart with courage; and whe
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he selected mine I felt less flattered by her preference tha
stonished by her penetration. How did she learn? She stood on th
pper deck with the red blaze of battle bathing her beautiful face, th
winkle of a thousand rifles mirrored in her eyes; and displaying
mall ivory-handled pistol, she told me in a sentence punctuated b
e thunder of great guns that if it came to the worst she would do he
uty like a man! I am proud to remember that I took off my hat to thtle fool.
ong the sheltered strip of beach between the river bank and th
ater was a confused mass of humanity--several thousands of mehey were mostly unarmed; many were wounded; some dead. All th
amp-following tribes were there; all the cowards; a few officers. N
ne of them knew where his regiment was, nor if he had a regimen
any had not. These men were defeated, beaten, cowed. They wer
eaf to duty and dead to shame. A more demented crew neve
ifted to the rear of broken battalions. They would have stood
eir tracks and been shot down to a man by a provost-marshaluard, but they could not have been urged up that bank. An army
avest men are its cowards. The death which they would not meet
e hands of the enemy they will meet at the hands of their officer
th never a flinching.
Whenever a steamboat would land, this abominable mob had to bept off her with bayonets; when she pulled away, they sprang on he
nd were pushed by scores into the water, where they were suffere
drown one another in their own way. The men disembarkin
sulted them, shoved them, struck them. In return they expresse
eir unholy delight in the certainty of our destruction by the enemy.
y the time my regiment had reached the plateau night had put and to the struggle. A sputter of rifles would break out now and then
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llowed perhaps by a spiritless hurrah. Occasionally a shell from
r-away battery would come pitching down somewhere near, with
hir crescendo, or flit above our heads with a whisper like that mad
y the wings of a night bird, to smother itself in the river. But ther
as no more fighting. The gunboats, however, blazed away at se
tervals all night long, just to make the enemy uncomfortable an
eak him of his rest.
or us there was no rest. Foot by foot we moved through the dusk
elds, we knew not whither. There were men all about us, but n
amp-fires; to have made a blaze would have been madness. Th
en were of strange regiments; they mentioned the names
nknown generals. They gathered in groups by the wayside, askinagerly our numbers. They recounted the depressing incidents of th
ay. A thoughtful officer shut their mouths with a sharp word as h
assed; a wise one coming after encouraged them to repeat the
oleful tale all along the line.
dden in hollows and behind clumps of rank brambles were larg
nts, dimly lighted with candles, but looking comfortable. The kind omfort they supplied was indicated by pairs of men entering an
appearing, bearing litters; by low moans from within and by lon
ws of dead with covered faces outside. These tents wer
onstantly receiving the wounded, yet were never full; they we
ontinually ejecting the dead, yet were never empty. It was as if th
elpless had been carried in and murdered, that they might namper those whose business it was to fall to-morrow.
he night was now black-dark; as is usual after a battle, it had begu
rain. Still we moved; we were being put into position b
omebody. Inch by inch we crept along, treading on one another
eels by way of keeping together. Commands were passed alon
e line in whispers; more commonly none were given. When th
en had pressed so closely together that they could advance n
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rther they stood stock-still, sheltering the locks of their rifles wi
eir ponchos. In this position many fell asleep. When those in fro
uddenly stepped away those in the rear, roused by the trampin
astened after with such zeal that the line was soon choked agai
vidently the head of the division was being piloted at a snail's pac
y some one who did not feel sure of his ground. Very often w
ruck our feet against the dead; more frequently against those whll had spirit enough to resent it with a moan. These were lifte
arefully to one side and abandoned. Some had sense enough
sk in their weak way for water. Absurd! Their clothes were soaked
eir hair dank; their white faces, dimly discernible, were clammy an
old. Besides, none of us had any water. There was plenty comin
ough, for before midnight a thunderstorm broke upon us with greolence. The rain, which had for hours been a dull drizzle, fell with
opiousness that stifled us; we moved in running water up to o
nkles. Happily, we were in a forest of great trees heavi
ecorated" with Spanish moss, or with an enemy standing to h
uns the disclosures of the lightning might have been inconvenien
s it was, the incessant blaze enabled us to consult our watches an
ncouraged us by displaying our numbers; our black, sinuous lin
eeping like a giant serpent beneath the trees, was apparent
terminable. I am almost ashamed to say how sweet I found th
ompanionship of those coarse men.
o the long night wore away, and as the glimmer of morning crept
rough the forest we found ourselves in a more open country. Bhere? Not a sign of battle was here. The trees were neithe
plintered nor scarred, the underbrush was unmown, the ground ha
o footprints but our own. It was as if we had broken into glade
acred to eternal silence. I should not have been surprised to se
eek leopards come fawning about our feet, and milkwhite dee
onfront us with human eyes.
few inaudible commands from an invisible leader had laced us
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der of battle. But where was the enemy? Where, too, were th
ddled regiments that we had come to save? Had our othe
visions arrived during the night and passed the river to assist us
were we to oppose our paltry five thousand breasts to an arm
ushed with victory? What protected our right? Who lay upon our lef
Was there really anything in our front?
here came, borne to us on the raw morning air, the long weird not
a bugle. It was directly before us. It rose with a low clea
eliberate warble, and seemed to float in the gray sky like the note
lark. The bugle calls of the Federal and the Confederate armie
ere the same: it was the "assembly" ! As it died away I observe
at the atmosphere had suffered a change; despite the equilibriustablished by the storm, it was electric. Wings were growing o
stered feet. Bruised muscles and jolted bones, shoulders pounde
y the cruel knapsack, eyelids leaden from lack of sleep--all wer
ervaded by the subtle fluid, all were unconscious of their clay. Th
en thrust forward their heads, expanded their eyes and clenche
eir teeth. They breathed hard, as if throttled by tugging at the leas
you had laid your hand in the beard or hair of one of these men
ould have crackled and shot sparks.
suppose the country lying between Corinth and Pittsburg Landin
ould boast a few inhabitants other than alligators. What manner eople they were it is impossible to say, inasmuch as the fightin
spersed, or possibly exterminated them; perhaps in mere
assing them as non-saurian I shall describe them with sufficie
articularity and at the same time avert from myself the natur
uspioion attaching to a writer who points out to persons who do n
now him the peculiarities of persons whom he does not know. On
ing, however, I hope I may without offense affirm of these swamp
wellers--the were pious. To what deit their veneration was given
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hether, like the Egyptians, they worshiped the crocodile, or, lik
her Americans, adored themselves, I do not presume to guess. Bu
hoever, or whatever, may have been the divinity whose ends the
haped, unto Him, or It, they had builded a temple. This humb
difice, centrally situated in the heart of a solitude, and convenient
ccessible to the supersylvan crow, had been christened Shilo
hapel, whence the name of the battle. The fact of a Christiahurch--assuming it to have been a Christian church--giving name t
wholesale cutting of Christian throats by Christian hands need n
e dwelt on here; the frequency of its recurrence in the history of o
pecies has somewhat abated the moral interest that wou
herwise attach to it.
I
wing to the darkness, the storm and the absence of a road, it ha
een impossible to move the artillery from the open ground about th
anding. The privation was much greater in a moral than in
aterial sense. The infantry soldier feels a confidence in h
umbrous arm quite unwarranted by its actual achievements inning out the opposition. There is something that inspire
onfidence in the way a gun dashes up to the front, shoving fifty or
undred men to one side as if it said, "Permit me!" Then it square
s shoulders, calmly dislocates a joint in its back, sends away i
wenty-four legs and settles down with a quiet rattle which says a
ainly as possible, "I've come to stay." There is a superb scorn in itimly defiant attitude, with its nose in the air; it appears not so muc
threaten the enemy as deride him.
ur batteries were probably toiling after us somewhere; we cou
nly hope the enemy might delay his attack until they should arriv
He may delay his defense if he likes," said a sententious youn
ficer to whom I had imparted this natural wish. He had read th
gns aright; the words were hardly spoken when a group of sta
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ficers about the brigade commander shot away in divergent line
s if scattered by a whirlwind, and galloping each to the commande
a regiment gave the word. There was a momentary confusion
ngues, a thin line of skirmishers detached itself from the compa
ont and pushed forward, followed by its diminutive reserves of half
ompany each--one of which platoons it was my fortune t
ommand. When the straggling line of skirmishers had swept four ove hundred yards ahead, "See," said one of my comrades, "sh
oves!" She did indeed, and in fine style, her front as straight as
ring, her reserve regiments in columns doubled on the cente
llowing in true subordination; no braying of brass to apprise th
nemy, no fifing and drumming to amuse him; no ostentation
audy flags; no nonsense. This was a matter of business.
a few moments we had passed out of the singular oasis that ha
o marvelously escaped the desolation of battle, and now th
vidences of the previous day's struggle were present in profusio
he ground was tolerably level here, the forest less dense, most
ear of undergrowth, and occasionally opening out into small natur
eadows. Here and there were small pools--mere discs of rainwat
th a tinge of blood. Riven and torn with cannon-shot, the trunks o
e trees protruded bunches of splinters like hands, the finge
bove the wound interlacing with those below. Large branches ha
een lopped, and hung their green heads to the ground, or swun
itically in their netting of vines, as in a hammock. Many had bee
ut clean off and their masses of foliage seriously impeded thogress of the troops. The bark of these trees, from the root upwa
a height of ten or twenty feet, was so thickly pierced with bulle
nd grape that one could not have laid a hand on it without coverin
everal punctures. None had escaped. How the human bod
urvives a storm like this must be explained by the fact that it
xposed to it but a few moments at a time, whereas these grand oees had had no one to take their places, from the rising to the goin
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own of the sun. Angular bits of iron, concavo-convex, sticking in th
des of muddy depressions, showed where shells had exploded
eir furrows. Knapsacks, canteens, haversacks distended wi
oaken and swollen biscuits, gaping to disgorge, blankets beate
to the soil by the rain, rifles with bent barrels or splintered stock
aist-belts, hats and the omnipresent sardine-box--all the wretche
ebris of the battle still littered the spongy earth as far as one couee, in every direction. Dead horses were everywhere; a fe
sabled caissons, or limbers, reclining on one elbow, as it were
mmunition wagons standing disconsolate behind four or s
prawling mules. Men? There were men enough; all dead apparent
xcept one, who lay near where I had halted my platoon to await th
ower movement of the line--a Federal sergeant, variously hurt, whad been a fine giant in his time. He lay face upward, taking in h
eath in convulsive, rattling snorts, and blowing it out in sputters
oth which crawled creamily down his cheeks, piling itself alongsid
s neck and ears. A bullet had clipped a groove in his skull, abov
e temple; from this the brain protruded in bosses, dropping off
akes and strings. I had not previously known one could get on, eve
this unsatisfactory fashion, with so little brain. One of my me
hom I knew for a womanish fellow, asked if he should put h
ayonet through him. Inexpressibly shocked by the cold-bloode
oposal, I told him I thought not; it was unusual, and too many wer
oking.
II
was plain that the enemy had retreated to Corinth. The arrival of o
esh troops and their successful passage of the river ha
sheartened him. Three or four of his gray cavalry videttes movin
mongst the trees on the crest of a hill in our front, and galloping o
sight at the crack of our skirmishers' rifles, confirmed us in thelief; an army face to face with its enemy does not employ caval
watch its front. True, the mi ht be a eneral and his sta
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rowning this rise we found a level field, a quarter of a mile in widt
eyond it a gentle acclivity, covered with an undergrowth of youn
aks, impervious to sight. We pushed on into the open, but th
vision halted at the edge. Having orders to conform to i
ovements, we halted too; but that did not suit; we received a
timation to proceed. I had performed this sort of service befor
nd in the exercise of my discretion deployed my platoon, pushingrward at a run, with trailed arms, to strengthen the skirmish lin
hich I overtook some thirty or forty yards from the wood. Then-
an't describe it--the forest seemed all at once to flame up an
sappear with a crash like that of a great wave upon the beach--
ash that expired in hot hissings, and the sickening "spat" of lea
gainst flesh. A dozen of my brave fellows tumbled over like ten-pinsome struggled to their feet only to go down again, and yet agai
hose who stood fired into the smoking brush and doggedly retire
We had expected to find, at most, a line of skirmishers similar to ou
wn; it was with a view to overcoming them by a sudden coup at th
oment of collision that I had thrown forward my little reserve. Wh
e had found was a line of battle, coolly holding its fire till it couount our teeth. There was no more to be done but get back acros
e open ground, every superficial yard of which was throwing up i
tle jet of mud provoked by an impinging bullet. We got back, mo
us, and I shall never forget the ludicrous incident of a young offic
ho had taken part in the affair walking up to his colonel, who ha
een a calm and apparently impartial spectator, and grave
porting: "The enemy is in force just beyond this field, sir."
subordination to the design of this narrative, as defined by its titl
e incidents related necessarily group themselves about my ow
ersonality as a center; and, as this center, during the few terribours of the engagement, maintained a variabl constant relation
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e open field already mentioned, it is important that the reade
hould bear in mind the topographical and tactical features of th
cal situation. The hither side of the field was occupied by the fro
my brigade--a length of two regiments in line, with proper interva
r field batteries. During the entire fight the enemy held the slig
ooded acclivity beyond. The debatable ground to the right and le
the open was broken and thickly wooded for miles, in somaces quite inaccessible to artillery and at very few points offerin
pportunities for its successful employment. As a consequence o
is the two sides of the field were soon studded thickly wi
onfronting guns, which flamed away at one another with amazin
eal and rather startling effect. Of course, an infantry attack delivere
om either side was not to be thought of when the covered flankfered inducements so unquestionably superior; and I believe th
ddled bodies of my poor skirmishers were the only ones left on th
eutral ground" that day. But there was a very pretty line of dea
ontinually growing in our rear, and doubtless the enemy had at h
ack a similar encouragement.
he configuration of the ground offered us no protection. By lying fl
ur faces between the guns we were screened from view by
raggling row of brambles, which marked the course of an obsolet
nce; but the enemy's grape was sharper than his eyes, and it wa
oor consolation to know that his gunners could not see what the
ere doing, so long as they did it. The shock of our own piece
early deafened us, but in the brief intervals we could hear the battaring and stammering in the dark reaches of the forest to the rig
nd left, where our other divisions were dashing themselves aga
nd again into the smoking jungle. What would we not have given
n them in their brave, hopeless task! But to lie inglorious benea
howers of shrapnel darting divergent from the unassailable sky
eekly to be blown out of life by level gusts of grape--to clench oeth and shrink helpless before big shot pushing noisily through th
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onsenting air--this was horrible! "Lie down, there!" a captain wou
hout, and then get up himself to see that his order was obeye
Captain, take cover, sir!" the lieutenant-colonel would shriek, pacin
p and down in the most exposed position that he could find.
those cursed guns!--not the enemy's, but our own. Had it not bee
r them, we might have died like men. They must be supportersooth, the feeble, boasting bullies! It was impossible to conceiv
at these pieces were doing the enemy as excellent a mischief a
s were doing us; they seemed to raise their "cloud by day" solely
rect aright the streaming procession of Confederate missiles. The
o longer inspired confidence, but begot apprehension; and it wa
th grim satisfaction that I saw the carriage of one and anothmashed into matchwood by a whooping shot and bundled out of th
e.
he dense forests wholly or partly in which were fought so man
attles of the Civil War, lay upon the earth in each autumn a thiceposit of dead leaves and stems, the decay of which forms a soil
urprising depth and richness. In dry weather the upper stratum is a
flammable as tinder. A fire once kindled in it will spread with
ow, persistent advance as far as local conditions permit, leaving
ed of light ashes beneath which the less combustible accretions
evious years will smolder until extinguished by rains. In many of thngagements of the war the fallen leaves took fire and roasted th
llen men. At Shiloh, during the first day's fighting, wide tracts o
oodland were burned over in this way and scores of wounded wh
ight have recovered perished in slow torture. I remember a dee
vine a little to the left and rear of the field I have described,
hich, by some mad freak of heroic incompetence, a part of a
nois regiment had been surrounded, and refusing to surrender wa
estroyed, as it very well deserved. My regiment having at last bee
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lieved at the guns and moved over to the heights above this ravin
r no obvious purpose, I obtained leave to go down into the valley
eath and gratify a reprehensible curiosity.
orbidding enough it was in every way. The fire had swept eve
uperficial foot of it, and at every step I sank into ashes to the ankl
had contained a thick undergrowth of young saplings, every one hich had been severed by a bullet, the foliage of the prostrate top
eing afterward burnt and the stumps charred. Death had put h
ckle into this thicket and fire had gleaned the field. Along a lin
hich was not that of extreme depression, but was at every poi
gnificantly equidistant from the heights on either hand, lay th
odies half buried in ashes; some in the unlovely looseness titude denoting sudden death by the bullet, but by far the greate
umber in postures of agony that told of the tormenting flame. The
othing was half burnt away--their hair and beard entirely; the ra
ad come too late to save their nails. Some were swollen to doub
rth; others shriveled to manikins. According to degree of exposure
eir faces were bloated and black or yellow and shrunken. Th
ontraction of muscles which had given them claws for hands ha
ursed each countenance with a hideous grin. Faugh! I cann
atalogue the charms of these gallant gentlemen who had got wh
ey enlisted for.
was now three o'clock in the afternoon, and raining. For fiftee
ours we had been wet to the skin. Chilled, sleepy, hungry an
sappointed--profoundly disgusted with the inglorious part to whic
ey had been condemned--the men of my regiment did everythin
oggedly. The spirit had gone quite out of them. Blue sheets o
owder smoke, drifting amongst the trees, settling against th
lsides and beaten into nothingness by the falling rain, filled the a
th their peculiar pungent odor, but it no longer stimulated. For mile
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n either hand could be heard the hoarse murmur of the battl
eaking out nearby with frightful distinctness, or sinking to a murmu
the distance; and the one sound aroused no more attention tha
e other.
We had been placed again in rear of those guns, but even they an
eir iron antagonists seemed to have tired of their feud, poundinway at one another with amiable infrequency. The right of th
giment extended a little beyond the field. On the prolongation of th
e in that direction were some regiments of another division, wi
ne in reserve. A third of a mile back lay the remnant of somebody
igade looking to its wounds. The line of forest bounding this end
e field stretched as straight as a wall from the right of my regimeHeaven knows what regiment of the enemy. There sudden
ppeared, marching down along this wall, not more than two hundre
ards in our front, a dozen files of gray-clad men with rifles on th
ght shoulder. At an interval of fifty yards they were followed b
erhaps half as many more; and in fair supporting distance of thes
alked with confident mien a single man! There seemed to m
omething indescribably ludicrous in the advance of this handful
en upon an army, albeit with their left flank protected by a forest.
oes not so impress me now. They were the exposed flanks of thre
es of infantry, each half a mile in length. In a moment our gunne
ad grappled with the nearest pieces, swung them half round, an
ere pouring streams of canister into the invaded wood. The infant
se in masses, springing into line. Our threatened regiments stooe a wall, their loaded rifles at "ready," their bayonets hangin
uietly in the scabbards. The right wing of my own regiment wa
rown slightly backward to threaten the flank of the assault. Th
attered brigade away to the rear pulled itself together.
hen the storm burst. A great gray cloud seemed to spring out of threst into the faces of the waiting battalions. It was received with
ash that made the ver trees turn u their leaves. For one insta
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e assailants paused above their dead, then struggled forward, the
ayonets glittering in the eyes that shone behind the smoke. On
oment, and those unmoved men in blue would be impaled. Wh
ere they about? Why did they not fix bayonets? Were they stunne
y their own volley? Their inaction was maddening! Anothe
emendous crash!--the rear rank had fired! Humanity, thank Heave
not made for this, and the shattered gray mass drew back a scorpaces, opening a feeble fire. Lead had scored its old-time victo
ver steel; the heroic had broken its great heart against th
ommonplace. There are those who say that it is sometime
herwise.
l this had taken but a minute of time, and now the secononfederate line swept down and poured in its fire. The line of blu
aggered and gave way; in those two terrific volleys it seemed t
ave quite poured out its spirit. To this deadly work our reserv
giment now came up with a run. It was surprising to see it spittin
e with never a sound, for such was the infernal din that the ea
ould take in no more. This fearful scene was enacted within fif
aces of our toes, but we were rooted to the ground as if we ha
own there. But now our commanding officer rode from behind us t
e front, waved his hand with the courteous gesture that says apre
ous, and with a barely audible cheer we sprang into the fight. Aga
e smoking front of gray receded, and again, as the enemy's thir
e emerged from its leafy covert, it pushed forward across the pile
dead and wounded to threaten with protruded steel. Never waeen so striking a proof of the paramount importance of number
Within an area of three hundred yards by fifty there struggled for fro
aces no fewer than six regiments; and the accession of each, afte
e first collision, had it not been immediately counterpoised, wou
ave turned the scale.
s matters stood, we were now ver evenl matched, and how lon
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e might have held out God only knows. But all at once somethin
ppeared to have gone wrong with the enemy's left; our men ha
omewhere pierced his line. A moment later his whole front gav
ay, and springing forward with fixed bayonets we pushed him
ter confusion back to his original line. Here, among the tents fro
hich Grant's people had been expelled the day before, our broke
nd disordered regiments inextricably intermingled, and drunketh the wine of triumph, dashed confidently against a pair of tri
attalions, provoking a tempest of hissing lead that made us stagge
nder its very weight. The sharp onset of another against our flan
ent us whirling back with fire at our heels and fresh foes
erciless pursuit--who in their turn were broken upon the front of th
valided brigade previously mentioned, which had moved up froe rear to assist in this lively work.
s we rallied to reform behind our beloved guns and noted th
diculous brevity of our line--as we sank from sheer fatigue, and trie
moderate the terrific thumping of our hearts--as we caught o
eath to ask who had seen such-and-such a comrade, and laughe
ysterically at the reply--there swept past us and over us into th
pen field a long regiment with fixed bayonets and rifles on the rig
houlder. Another followed, and another; two--three--four! Heavens
here do all these men come from, and why did they not com
efore? How grandly and confidently they go sweeping on like lon
ue waves of ocean chasing one another to the cruel rock
voluntarily we draw in our weary feet beneath us as we sit, ready tpring up and interpose our breasts when these gallant lines sha
ome back to us across the terrible field, and sift brokenly throug
mong the trees with spouting fires at their backs. We still o
eathing to catch the full grandeur of the volleys that are to tear the
shreds. Minute after minute passes and the sound does not com
hen for the first time we note that the silence of the whole region ot comparative, but absolute. Have we become stone deaf? Se
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ere comes a stretcher-bearer, and there a surgeon! Good heavens
chaplain!
he battle was indeed at an end.
I
nd this was, O so long ago! How they come back to me--dimly an
okenly, but with what a magic spell--those years of youth when
as soldiering! Again I hear the far warble of blown bugles. Again
ee the tall, blue smoke of camp-fires ascending from the di
alleys of Wonderland. There steals upon my sense the ghost of a
dor from pines that canopy the ambuscade. I feel upon my chee
e morning mist that shrouds the hostile camp unaware of its doom
nd my blood stirs at the ringing rifle-shot of the solitary sentine
nfamiliar landscapes, glittering with sunshine or sullen with rai
ome to me demanding recognition, pass, vanish and give place t
hers. Here in the night stretches a wide and blasted field studde
th half-extinct fires burning redly with I know not what presage
vil. Again I shudder as I note its desolation and its awful silencWhere was it? To what monstrous inharmony of death was it th
sible prelude?
days when all the world was beautiful and strange; when unfamilia
onstellations burned in the Southern midnights, and the mocking
rd poured out his heart in the moon-gilded magnolia; when theras something new under a new sun; will your fine, far memorie
ver cease to lay contrasting pictures athwart the harsher features
is later world, accentuating the ugliness of the longer and tame
e? Is it not strange that the phantoms of a blood-stained perio
ave so airy a grace and look with so tender eyes?--that I recall wi
fficulty the danger and death and horrors of the time, and witho
fort all that was gracious and picturesque? Ah, Youth, there is nuch wizard as thou! Give me but one touch of thine artist hand upo
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e dull canvas of the Present; gild for but one moment the drear an
omber scenes of to-day, and I will willingly surrender an other lif
an the one that I should have thrown away at Shiloh.
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A Son of the Gods
Study in the Present Tense
breezy day and a sunny landscape. An open country to right an
ft and forward; behind, a wood. In the edge of this wood, facing thpen but not venturing into it, long lines of troops, halted. The wood
ve with them, and full of confused noises--the occasional rattle
heels as a battery of artillery goes into position to cover th
dvance; the hum and murmur of the soldiers talking; a sound
numerable feet in the dry leaves that strew the interspaces amon
e trees; hoarse commands of officers. Detached groups orsemen are well in front--not altogether exposed--many of the
tently regarding the crest of a hill a mile away in the direction of th
terrupted advance. For this powerful army, moving in battle orde
rough a forest, has met with a formidable obstacle--the ope
ountry. The crest of that gentle hill a mile away has a sinister look;
ays, Beware! Along it runs a stone wall extending to left and right
eat distance. Behind the wall is a hedge; behind the hedge ar
een the tops of trees in rather straggling order. Among the trees
hat? It is necessary to know.
esterday, and for many days and nights previously, we were fightin
omewhere; always there was cannonading, with occasional kee
ttlings of musketry, mingled with cheers, our own or the enemy's weldom knew, attesting some temporary advantage. This morning a
aybreak the enemy was gone. We have moved forward across h
arthworks, across which we have so often vainly attempted to mov
efore, through the debris of his abandoned camps, among th
aves of his fallen, into the woods beyond.
ow curiously we had regarded everything! how odd it all ha
eemed! Nothin had a eared uite familiar; the mo
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ommonplace objects--an old saddle, a splintered wheel, a forgotte
anteen--everything had related something of the mysteriou
ersonality of those strange men who had been killing us. Th
oldier never becomes wholly familiar with the conception of his foe
s men like himself; he cannot divest himself of the feeling that the
e another order of beings, differently conditioned, in a
nvironment not altogether of the earth. The smallest vestiges em rivet his attention and engage his interest. He thinks of them a
accessible; and, catching an unexpected glimpse of them, the
ppear farther away, and therefore larger, than they really are--lik
bjects in a fog. He is somewhat in awe of them.
rom the edge of the wood leading up the acclivity are the tracks orses and wheels--the wheels of cannon. The yellow grass
eaten down by the feet of infantry. Clearly they have passed th
ay in thousands; they have not withdrawn by the country roads. Th
significant--it is the difference between retiring and retreating.
hat group of horsemen is our commander, his staff and escort. H
facing the distant crest, holding his field-glass against his eyeth both hands, his elbows needlessly elevated. It is a fashion;
eems to dignify the act; we are all addicted to it. Suddenly h
wers the glass and says a few words to those about him. Two o
ree aides detach themselves from the group and canter away in
e woods, along the lines in each direction. We did not hear h
ords, but we know them: "Tell General X. to send forward thkirmish line." Those of us who have been out of place resume o
ositions; the men resting at ease straighten themselves and th
nks are re-formed without a command. Some of us staff office
smount and look at our saddle girths; those already on the groun
mount.
alloping rapidly along in the edge of the open ground comes
oung officer on a snow-white horse. His saddle blanket is scarle
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What a fool! No one who has ever been in action but remembe
ow naturally every rifle turns toward the man on a white horse; n
ne but has observed how a bit of red enrages the bull of battle. Th
uch colors are fashionable in military life must be accepted as th
ost astonishing of all the phenomena of human vanity. They wou
eem to have been devised to increase the death-rate.
his young officer is in full uniform, as if on parade. He is all aglea
th bullion--a blue-and-gold edition of the Poetry of War. A wave o
erisive laughter runs abreast of him all along the line. But ho
andsome he is!--with what careless grace he sits his horse!
e reins up within a respectful distance of the corps commander analutes. The old soldier nods familiarly; he evidently knows him.
ief colloquy between them is going on; the young man seems to b
eferring some request which the elder one is indisposed to gran
et us ride a little nearer. Ah! too late--it is ended. The young office
alutes again, wheels his horse, and rides straight toward the cre
the hill!
thin line of skirmishers, the men deployed at six paces or so apar
ow pushes from the wood into the open. The commander speaks
s bugler, who claps his instrument to his lips. Tra-la-la! Tra-la-la
he skirmishers halt in their tracks.
eantime the young horseman has advanced a hundred yards. He ding at a walk, straight up the long slope, with never a turn of th
ead. How glorious! Gods! what would we not give to be in h
ace--with his soul! He does not draw a sabre; his right hand hang
asily at his side. The breeze catches the plume in his hat an
utters it smartly. The sunshine rests upon his shoulder-strap
vingly, like a visible benediction. Straight on he rides. Ten thousan
airs of eyes are fixed upon him with an intensity that he can hardil to feel; ten thousand hearts keep quick time to the inaudible hoo
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eats of his snowy steed. He is not alone--he draws all souls afte
m. But we remember that we laughed! On and on, straight for th
edge-lined wall, he rides. Not a look backward. O, if he would b
rn--if he could but see the love, the adoration, the atonement!
ot a word is spoken; the populous depths of the forest still murmu
th their unseen and unseeing swarm, but all along the fringe ence. The burly commander is an equestrian statue of himself. Th
ounted staff officers, their field glasses up, are motionless all. Th
e of battle in the edge of the wood stands at a new kind
ttention," each man in the attitude in which he was caught by th
onsciousness of what is going on. All these hardened an
mpenitent man-killers, to whom death in its awfulest forms is a familiar to their every-day observation; who sleep on hills tremblin
th the thunder of great guns, dine in the midst of streamin
issiles, and play cards among the dead faces of their deare
ends--all are watching with suspended breath and beating hear
e outcome of an act involving the life of one man. Such is th
agnetism of courage and devotion.
now you should turn your head you would see a simultaneou
ovement among the spectators--a start, as if they had received a
ectric shock--and looking forward again to the now dista
orseman you would see that he has in that instant altered h
rection and is riding at an angle to his former course. Th
pectators suppose the sudden deflection to be caused by a shoerhaps a wound; but take this field-glass and you will observe th
e is riding toward a break in the wall and hedge. He means, if n
led, to ride through and overlook the country beyond.
ou are not to forget the nature of this man's act; it is not permitted t
ou to think of it as an instance of bravado, nor, on the other hand,
eedless sacrifice of self. If the enemy has not retreated he is
rce on that ridge. The investigator will encounter nothing less than
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e-of-battle; there is no need of pickets, videttes, skirmishers, t
ve warning of our approach; our attacking lines will be visibl
onspicuous, exposed to an artillery fire that will shave the groun
e moment they break from cover, and for half the distance to
heet of rifle bullets in which nothing can live. In short, if the enemy
ere, it would be madness to attack him in front; he must b
anoeuvred out by the immemorial plan of threatening his line ommunication, as necessary to his existence as to the diver at th
ottom of the sea his air tube. But how ascertain if the enemy
ere? There is but one way,--somebody must go and see. Th
atural and customary thing to do is to send forward a line
kirmishers. But in this case they will answer in the affirmative with a
eir lives; the enemy, crouching double ranks behind the stone wand in cover of the hedge, will wait until it is possible to count eac
ssailant's teeth. At the first volley a half of the questioning line w
ll, the other half before it can accomplish the predestined retrea
What a price to pay for gratified curiosity! At what a dear rate a
my must sometimes purchase knowledge! "Let me pay all," say
is gallant man--this military Christ!
here is no hope except the hope against hope that the crest
ear. True, he might prefer capture to death. So long as h
dvances, the lines will not fire--why should it? He can safely ride in
e hostile ranks and become a prisoner of war. But this woul
efeat his object. It would not answer our question; it is necessa
ther that he return unharmed or be shot to death before our eyenly so shall we know how to act. If captured--why, that might hav
een done by a half-dozen stragglers.
ow begins an extraordinary contest of intellect between a man an
n army. Our horseman, now within a quarter of a mile of the cres
uddenly wheels to the left and gallops in a direction parallel to it. Has caught sight of his antagonist; he knows all. Some slig
dvanta e of round has enabled him to overlook a art of the line.
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e were here he could tell us in words. But that is now hopeless; h
ust make the best use of the few minutes of life remaining to him
y compelling the enemy himself to tell us as much and as plainly a
ossible--which, naturally, that discreet power is reluctant to do. No
rifleman in those crouching ranks, not a cannoneer at thos
asked and shotted guns, but knows the needs of the situation, th
mperative duty for forbearance. Besides, there has been timnough to forbid them all to fire. True, a single rifle-shot might dro
m and be no great disclosure. But firing is infectious--and see ho
pidly he moves, with never a pause except as he whirls his hors
bout to take a new direction, never directly backward toward u
ever directly forward toward his executioners. All this is visib
rough the glass; it seems occurring within pistol-shot; we see all be enemy, whose presence, whose thoughts, whose motives w
fer. To the unaided eye there is nothing but a black figure on
hite horse, tracing slow zigzags against the slope of a distant hil
o slowly they seem almost to creep.
ow--the glass again--he has tired of his failure, or sees his error, o
as gone mad; he is dashing directly forward at the wall, as if to tak
at a leap, hedge and all! One moment only and he wheels rig
bout and is speeding like the wind straight down the slope--towa
s friends, toward his death! Instantly the wall is topped with a fierc
ll of smoke for a distance of hundreds of yards to right and left. Th
as instantly dissipated by the wind, and before the rattle of th
les reaches us he is down. No, he recovers his seat; he has bulled his horse upon its haunches. They are up and away!
emendous cheer bursts from our ranks, relieving the insupportab
nsion of our feelings. And the horse and its rider? Yes, they are u
nd away. Away, indeed--they are making directly to our left, paralle
the now steadily blazing and smoking wall. The rattle of th
usketry is continuous, and every bullet's target is that courageoueart.
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uddenly a great bank of white smoke pushes upward from behin
e wall. Another and another--a dozen roll up before the thunder o
e explosions and the humming of the missiles reach our ears an
e missiles themselves come bounding through clouds of dust int
ur covert, knocking over here and there a man and causing
mporary distraction, a passing thought of self.
he dust drifts away. Incredible!--that enchanted horse and ride
ave passed a ravine and are climbing another slope to unve
nother conspiracy of silence, to thwart the will of another arme
ost. Another moment and that crest too is in eruption. The hors
ars and strikes the air with its forefeet. They are down at last. B
ok again--the man has detached himself from the dead animal. Hands erect, motionless, holding his sabre in his right hand straig
bove his head. His face is toward us. Now he lowers his hand to
vel with his face and moves it outward, the blade of the sabr
escribing a downward curve. It is a sign to us, to the world, t
osterity. It is a hero's salute to death and history.
gain the spell is broken; our men attempt to cheer; they are chokin
th emotion; they utter hoarse, discordant cries; they clutch the
eapons and press tumultuously forward into the open. Th
kirmishers, without orders, against orders, are going forward at
een run, like hounds unleashed. Our cannon speak and the enemy
ow open in full chorus; to right and left as far as we can see, th
stant crest, seeming now so near, erects its towers of cloud ane great shot pitch roaring down among our moving masses. Fla
ter flag of ours emerges from the wood, line after line sweeps fort
atching the sunlight on its burnished arms. The rear battalions alon
e in obedience; they preserve their proper distance from th
surgent front.
he commander has not moved. He now removes his field-glas
om his e es and lances to the ri ht and left. He sees the huma
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urrent flowing on either side of him and his huddled escort, like tid
aves parted by a rock. Not a sign of feeling in his face; he
inking. Again he directs his eyes forward; they slowly traverse tha
align and awful crest. He address a calm word to his bugler. Tra-la
! Tra-la-la! The injunction has an imperiousness which enforces it.
repeated by all the bugles of all the subordinate commanders; th
harp metallic notes assert themselves above the hum of thdvance and penetrate the sound of the cannon. To halt is t
thdraw. The colors move slowly back; the lines face about an
ullenly follow, bearing their wounded; the skirmishers return
athering up the dead.
h, those many, many needless dead! That great soul whoseautiful body is lying over yonder, so conspicuous against the ser
lside--could it not have been spared the bitter consciousness of
ain devotion? Would one exception have marred too much th
tiless perfection of the divine, eternal plan?
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Three And One Are One
the year 1861 Barr Lassiter, a young man of twenty-two, lived wit
s parents and an elder sister near Carthage, Tennessee. Th
mily were in somewhat humble circumstances, subsisting b
ultivation of a small and not very fertile plantation. Owning no slave
ey were not rated among "the best people" of their neighborhoo
ut they were honest persons of good education, fairly we
annered and as respectable as any family could be
ncredentialed by personal dominion over the sons and daughters
am. The elder Lassiter had that severity of manner that s
equently affirms an uncompromising devotion to duty, and conceawarm and affectionate disposition.
e was of the iron of which martyrs are made, but in the heart of th
atrix had lurked a nobler metal, fusible at a milder heat, yet neve
oloring nor softening the hard exterior. By both heredity an
nvironment something of the man's inflexible character had touche
e other members of the family; the Lassiter home, though n
evoid of domestic affection, was a veritable citadel of duty, an
uty--ah, duty is as cruel as death!
When the war came on it found in the family, as in so many others
at State, a divided sentiment; the young man was loyal to th
nion, the others savagely hostile. This unhappy division begot asupportable domestic bitterness, and when the offending son an
other left home with the avowed purpose of joining the Feder
my not a hand was laid in his, not a word of farewell was spoke
ot a good wish followed him out into the world whither he went t
eet with such spirit as he might whatever fate awaited him.
aking his way to Nashville, already occupied by the Army
eneral Buell, he enlisted in the first or anization that he found,
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entucky regiment of cavalry, and in due time passed through all th
ages of military evolution from raw recruit to experienced troope
right good trooper he was, too, although in his oral narrative fro
hich this tale is made there was no mention of that; the fact wa
arned from his surviving comrades. For Barr Lassiter ha
nswered "Here" to the sergeant whose name is Death.
wo years after he had joined it his regiment passed through th
gion whence he had come. The country thereabout had suffere
everely from the ravages of war, having been occupied alternate
nd simultaneously) by the belligerent forces, and a sanguina
ruggle had occurred in the immediate vicinity of the Lassite
omestead. But of this the young trooper was not aware.
nding himself in camp near his home, he felt a natural longing t
ee his parents and sister, hoping that in them, as in him, th
nnatural animosities of the period had been softened by time an
eparation. Obtaining a leave of absence, he set foot in the lat
ummer afternoon, and soon after the rising of the full moon wa
alking up the gravel path leading to the dwelling in which he haeen born.
oldiers in war age rapidly, and in youth two years are a long time.
arr Lassiter felt himself an old man, and had almost expected t
nd the place a ruin and a desolation. Nothing, apparently, wahanged. At the sight of each dear and familiar object he wa
ofoundly affected. His heart beat audibly, his emotion near
uffocated him; an ache was in his throat. Unconsciously h
uickened his pace until he almost ran, his long shadow makin
otesque efforts to keep its place beside him.
he house was unlighted, the door open. As he approached anaused to recover control of himself his father came out and stoo
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are-headed in the moonlight.
ather!" cried the young man, springing forward with outstretche
and--"Father!"
he elder man looked him sternly in the face, stood a mome
otionless and without a word withdrew into the house. Bittersappointed, humiliated, inexpressibly hurt and altogether unnerve
e soldier dropped upon a rustic seat in deep dejection, supportin
s head upon his trembling hand. But he would not have it so: h
as too good a soldier to accept repulse as defeat. He rose an
ntered the house, passing directly to the "sitting-room."
was dimly lighted by an uncurtained east window. On a low stool b
e hearthside, the only article of furniture in the place, sat his mothe
aring into a fireplace strewn with blackened embers and co
shes. He spoke to her--tenderly, interrogatively, and with hesitation
ut she neither answered, nor moved, nor seemed in any wa
urprised.
rue, there had been time for her husband to apprise her of the
uilty son's return. He moved nearer and was about to lay his han
pon her arm, when his sister entered from an adjoining room
oked him full in the face, passed him without a sign of recognitio
nd left the room by a door that was partly behind him. He had turne
s head to watch her, but when she was gone his eyes again soughs mother. She too had left the place.
arr Lassiter strode to the door by which he had entered. Th
oonlight on the lawn was tremulous, as if the sward were a ripplin
ea. The trees and their black shadows shook as in a breez
ended with its borders, the gravel walk seemed unsteady an
secure to step on. This young soldier knew the optical illusionoduced by tears. He felt them on his cheek, and saw them spark
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n the breast of his trooper's jacket. He left the house and made h
ay back to camp.
he next day, with no very definite intention, with no dominant feelin
at he could rightly have named, he again sought the spot. Within
alf-mile of it he met Bushrod Albro, a former playfellow an
choolmate, who greeted him warmly.
am going to visit my home," said the soldier.
he other looked at him rather sharply, but said nothing.
know," continued Lassiter, "that my folks have not changed, but--"
There have been changes," Albro interrupted--"everything change
go with you if you don't mind. We can talk as we go."
ut Albro did not talk.
stead of a house they found only fire-blackened foundations
one, enclosing an area of compact ashes pitted by rains.
assiter's astonishment was extreme.
could not find the right way to tell you," said Albro. "In the fight
ear ago your house was burned by a Federal shell."
And my family--where are they?"
n Heaven, I hope. All were killed by the shell."
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Two Military Executions
the spring of the year 1862 General Buell's big army lay in cam
king itself into shape for the campaign which resulted in the victo
Shiloh. It was a raw, untrained army, although some of its fraction
ad seen hard enough service, with a good deal of fighting, in th
ountains of Western Virginia, and in Kentucky. The war was youn
nd soldiering a new industry, imperfectly understood by the youn
merican of the period, who found some features of it not altogethe
his liking. Chief among these was that essential part of disciplin
ubordination. To one imbued from infancy with the fascinatin
llacy that all men are born equal, unquestioning submission tuthority is not easily mastered, and the American volunteer soldie
his "green and salad days" is among the worst known. That is ho
happened that one of Buell's men, Private Bennett Story Green
ommitted the indiscretion of striking his officer. Later in the war h
ould not have done that; like Sir Andrew Aguecheek, he would hav
een him damned" first. But time for reformation of his militaanners was denied him: he was promptly arrested on complaint
e officer, tried by court-martial and sentenced to be shot.
You might have thrashed me and let it go at that," said th
ondemned man to the complaining witness; "that is what you use
do at school, when you were plain Will Dudley and I was as goo
s you. Nobody saw me strike you; discipline would not havuffered much."
Ben Greene, I guess you are right about that," said the lieutenan
Will you forgive me? That is what I came to see you about."
here was no reply, and an officer putting his head in at the door oe guard-tent where the conversation had occurred, explained th
e time allowed for the interview had ex ired. The next mornin
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hen in the presence of the whole brigade Private Greene was sh
death by a squad of his comrades, Lieutenant Dudley turned h
ack upon the sorry performance and muttered a prayer for mercy,
hich himself was included.
few weeks afterward, as Buell's leading division was being ferrie
ver the Tennessee River to assist in succoring Grant's beaten armght was coming on, black and stormy. Through the wreck of batt
e division moved, inch by inch, in the direction of the enemy, wh
ad withdrawn a little to reform his lines. But for the lightning th
arkness was absolute. Never for a moment did it cease, and eve
hen the thunder did not crack and roar were heard the moans of th
ounded among whom the men felt their way with their feet, anpon whom they stumbled in the gloom. The dead were there, too
ere were dead a-plenty.
the first faint gray of the morning, when the swarming advance ha
aused to resume something of definition as a line of battle, an
kirmishers had been thrown forward, word was passed along to ca
e roll. The first sergeant of Lieutenant Dudley's company steppethe front and began to name the men in alphabetical order. He ha
o written roll, but a good memory. The men answered to the
ames as he ran down the alphabet to G.
Gorham."
Here!"
Grayrock."
Here!"
he sergeant's good memory was affected by habit:
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Greene."
Here!"
he response was clear, distinct, unmistakable!
sudden movement, an agitation of the entire company front, aom an electric shock, attested the startling character of the inciden
he sergeant paled and paused. The captain strode quickly to h
de and said sharply:
Call that name again."
pparently the Society for Psychical Research is not first in the fiecuriosity concerning the Unknown.
Bennett Greene."
Here!"
l faces turned in the direction of the familiar voice; the two meetween whom in the order of stature Greene had commonly stoo
line turned and squarely confronted each other.
Once more," commanded the inexorable investigator, and onc
ore came--a trifle tremulously--the name of the dead man:
Bennett Story Greene."
Here!"
that instant a single rifle-shot was heard, away to the front, beyon
e skirmish-line, followed, almost attended, by the savage hiss of a
pproaching bullet which passing through the line, struck audiblunctuating as with a full stop the captain's exclamation, "What th
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evil does it mean?"
eutenant Dudley pushed through the ranks from his place in th
ar.
means this," he said, throwing open his coat and displaying
sibly broadening stain of crimson on his breast. His knees gavay; he fell awkwardly and lay dead.
little later the regiment was ordered out of line to relieve th
ongested front, and through some misplay in the game of battle wa
ot again under fire. Nor did Bennett Greene, expert in milita
xecutions, ever again signify his presence at one.