War Between the States - Ambrose Bierce

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War Between The States

Ambrose Bierce



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



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



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.



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.



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.'



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



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



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



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.



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



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



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!



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



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



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



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



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



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.



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



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.



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.



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.



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



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.



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



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



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



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



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.





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



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



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



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



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.



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



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



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



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



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



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."



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



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



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



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



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



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.



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



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.



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



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



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."



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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.



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



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.



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.



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



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



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.



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.



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



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



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



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



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.



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.



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



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.



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.



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?'



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."



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



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.



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



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



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



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



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.



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



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



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:



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.



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



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?



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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.



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



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



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



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



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.



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.



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



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?



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,



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



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



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."



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



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:



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



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.

Documents

War Between the States - Ambrose Bierce