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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77379 ***
+
+
+
+
+      The Twin
+      Seven-Shooters.
+
+  [Illustration: CHARLES F. MANDERSON
+  Colonel 19th Ohio Infantry.
+  Brevet Brigadier General Volunteers, U. S. A.]
+
+
+
+
+                        The Twin Seven-Shooters.
+
+                                   BY
+
+                          CHARLES F. MANDERSON
+
+            LATE COLONEL 19TH OHIO VOLUNTEER INFANTRY, BREVET
+                     BRIGADIER-GENERAL VOLS., U.S.A.
+
+                             [Illustration]
+
+                            F. TENNYSON NEELY
+
+                  114 Fifth Avenue      96 Queen Street
+                      NEW YORK              LONDON
+
+
+
+
+                            Copyright, 1902,
+                                   by
+                          CHARLES F. MANDERSON,
+                                 in the
+                              United States
+                                   and
+                             Great Britain.
+
+                      Entered at Stationers’ Hall,
+                                 London.
+
+                          All Rights Reserved.
+
+
+                       _The Twin Seven-Shooters._
+
+
+
+
+  “_We came into the world like brother and brother,_
+  ‘_And now let’s go hand in hand, not one before another._”
+
+        --DROMIO, in “Comedy of Errors.”
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+The telling of this truthful story of the Great War comes from the
+numerous requests of comrades, who knew somewhat of the presentation,
+the capture and the return of the pair of revolvers that came together
+after a quarter of a century of separation and after they had been
+carried and used under two flags. Their restoration could not have been
+had under any other condition than that which came about at the close
+of our gigantic struggle.
+
+The Civil War was waged on both the Federal and Confederate sides with
+an intensity and manly vigor characteristic of the race that sprang
+from the loins of the Puritan and the Cavalier.
+
+The immense hosts that combated upon so many dreadful fields, with
+the incident sacrifice of life and limb, while actuated by the desire
+to win, by comparison with which individual loss counted as nothing,
+were never prompted by personal hatred or ill will. They fought to
+obtain the result desired, and when the end came, with its feeling of
+exultation by the one and of depression by the other, there was mutual
+respect and common consideration, that led naturally to a reunited
+country and the placing of the Great Republic in its present position
+as the Chiefest of Nations.
+
+The story permits a description of two great battles--that of
+Murfreesboro, or Stone’s River, and of Chattanooga, or Mission
+Ridge--the first-named one of the hardest fought fields of the War,
+and the last, one of the most spectacular. The recital of these calls
+for no explanation, and I hope the personal equation of the story needs
+no apology.
+
+  CHARLES F. MANDERSON,
+
+    Late Colonel, 19th Regiment Ohio Infantry.
+    B’v’t Brig. Gen. Vols., U.S.A.
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE.
+
+
+[Illustration: “RESTING QUIETLY IN THEIR POLISHED CASE OF DARK MAHOGANY
+WITH ITS SOFT LINING OF TUFTED CRIMSON SILK.”]
+
+Resting quietly in their polished case of dark mahogany, with its
+soft lining of tufted crimson silk, they look harmless indeed and as
+though their lives had been uneventful. Yet, could they speak with
+other tongues than those of fire and smoke, they could tell a tale to
+interest and thrill--of scenes of bloody encounter and deadly strife,
+of combat and carnage, of victory and defeat, of raid and destruction,
+of pursuit and capture, of loss and recovery, of separation and
+reunion,--in short, the exciting story of war, and the captivating tale
+of peace.
+
+You take up the pair of revolvers with a new interest. Yes! they are
+handsome. Shapely and well proportioned, they deserve your exclamation
+of admiration. The blued steel of barrels and cylinders contrasts
+attractively with the silver mounting of the handles, so well fitted to
+the grasp.
+
+[Illustration: “YOU TAKE THEM IN HAND!
+
+                                           YOU GLANCE ALONG THE SIGHTS!”
+]
+
+You take them in hand! You glance along the sights! Ah! my friend, time
+was when the threatening glint of the eye that brought these sights
+in line was quite different from the gentle light in yours. And now
+you read inquiringly the inscription, showing the presentation, deeply
+engraved upon the silver handle band of each seven shooter. Yes, I am
+the regimental commander to whom they were presented, by the braves of
+the gallant 19th Regiment of Ohio Infantry, nearly forty years ago. I
+had lived but little over half that many years, when they came to me
+and, since the date you read upon them, I have grown grizzled.
+
+The scene of the presentation, the causes that led to it and the after
+events of note, are as vivid as though they were of yesterday and yet
+there is the strange feeling as though I spoke of some other and not
+of myself. I take it that most of us who served through those four
+momentous years of gigantic war now feel as though the experiences were
+those of a third person, of whom we had knowledge, intimate indeed, but
+with whom we had not identity. As you ask for the story, it shall be
+given unto you.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+                         PAGE
+
+  PROLOGUE                  5
+
+
+            SCENE I.
+
+  The Battle                9
+
+
+           SCENE II.
+
+  The Presentation         24
+
+
+          SCENE III.
+
+  The Capture              29
+
+
+           SCENE IV.
+
+  The Reunion              44
+
+
+  Epilogue                 51
+
+
+
+
+The Twin Seven-Shooters.
+
+
+
+
+SCENE I.
+
+THE BATTLE.
+
+
+The recital will start fairly on Christmas day of the year 1862, near
+Nashville, in the camps of the Army of the Cumberland, then commanded
+by General Rosecrans.
+
+The festive holiday time had increased the usually present disease,
+until home-sickness was the all-pervading complaint. As the picket
+peered through the gloomy air under the dull, wintry sky, he saw, in
+his mind’s eye, the dear ones at home, gathered about the yule-log.
+The sentry’s thoughts were far away, as he challenged the approaching
+guard, that brought relief, but gave none save in name, and received
+the sharp replies, so different from the words of good cheer properly
+incident to the time. The men gathered about the camp fires during the
+evening hours with abortive attempts at merriment, soon to be given
+up, and then to talk in whispers of friends and family and home. The
+bugle calls, holding out the promise that balmy sleep might bring
+forgetfulness, were welcomed; although tattoo seemed a wail, and
+lights-out a sob.
+
+The restless quiet of a great military camp comes at last. A nest of
+sleeping souls, it heaves with sound. The sentinels look like stalking
+ghosts.
+
+After midnight the dreaming sleepers are disturbed by the clank of the
+sabre of the orderly, seeking the headquarters of regiments to deliver
+an important order. Be quick! Light the candle stuck in the bayonet
+shank at the head of the ground bed where lies the regimental commander.
+
+Ah! Here is a Christmas gift with a vengeance! Read!
+
+  “You will place your command in readiness to march at daylight.
+  Move very light--three days’ rations in haversacks and two days’ in
+  wagons. Forty rounds of ammunition on each man, with all the reserve
+  ammunition in wagons. Take no tents and no baggage.”
+
+A battle order! Up and be stirring, for there is much to be done
+before daylight. Sleepers are aroused, their dreams of home and its
+festivities rudely disturbed, tents are struck and rolled, and, with
+the baggage and surplus stores packed into wagons to be sent within the
+earth-works of Nashville.
+
+Reveille finds the Army of the Cumberland, nearly fifty thousand
+strong, on the march to attack the Confederates under Bragg at
+Murfreesborough, thirty miles away. No holiday march this, I assure
+you. The enemy is alert. He harasses our front with artillery, attacks
+our flanks with infantry and harries our rear with cavalry. The
+elements seem in league with him, for snow, sleet and rain make heavy
+roads, at which men swear and in which wagons and artillery flounder
+and stall.
+
+Four days of skirmishing and hard marching, with four nights of unrest
+and chilly misery bring us to our objective--the enemy. He has selected
+his battle ground on the bank of Stone’s River, a swift stream, in
+places fordable.
+
+The night of December 30th we slept, or essayed to sleep, upon our
+arms, without fires. Never can I forget the dispirited and woe-begone
+look of the men as, rising from the frozen ground, they shook
+themselves at daylight. The hoar-frost covered them, giving to the
+uniforms of blue a new color, resembling somewhat the grey of the foe.
+Is there fighting quality in this line of shivering men? Can the battle
+fire be kindled in these chilled frames? A cold breakfast from the
+haversacks, a tin cup of coffee to each man, a warming drill in the
+manual of arms and their appearance is changed for the better.
+
+The order comes! We are to cross Stone’s River at the lower ford and
+lead the attack upon the enemy’s right. Rosecrans will strike with his
+left.
+
+An inspection of the guns, a distribution of ammunition, filling both
+cartridge boxes and haversacks, some words of encouragement and cheer
+from the youthful commander, and we move to the river bank, to find
+our crossing, by wading the cold stream, unopposed by the enemy. We
+form in line of battle upon the other side and are about to advance to
+the attack, when the sound of cannon, heard but faintly from our right
+a short time ago, becomes louder and more loud. A terrific battle is
+raging there and the movement of sound means our men are being driven.
+We are halted. There is stir and excitement among the division staff.
+We are ordered to recross the river and hasten to the support of the
+right wing.
+
+Bragg, actuated by the same motive as Rosecrans, conceiving the same
+plan, had attacked our right, but his fresh and sheltered troops struck
+their blow at an earlier hour. They doubled our line back upon itself.
+They took our straight bar of iron and bent it into a horse-shoe. Our
+right flank had become our rear.
+
+Defeat seemed imminent. On our hurried way, the 19th Ohio, leading
+Crittenden’s Division, met horses, teams and men in confusion most
+confounded. Rousseau, of Kentucky, riding bare-headed, cries to me,
+“What troops are these?” and to my answer says, with tearful entreaty
+in his voice, “For God’s sake! get quickly to the cedars on our right
+and stop this rout.” We hasten on. Rosecrans, pale with anguish of the
+thought that Garesche, bosom friend and Chief of Staff, had just been
+killed by his side, but determined of purpose and confident in bearing,
+says, “Men! you can save the day. Will you do it?” “Aye! Aye! sir; if
+mortal men can, we will!”
+
+We pass from the march by the flank into line under the direction of
+the Commanding General himself, my regiment forming the right of the
+front line.
+
+The grey coats, flushed with success that is so near victory, came
+gaily on. We wait until they are within easy range. It is a weary
+waiting and hard to endure. Our men are falling rapidly under the fire
+of the advancing foe. My favorite mare drops dead with a ball through
+her gentle heart. Adjutant Brewer, always alert and devoted replaces
+her with his good grey. Rising from the ground, with no great bodily
+harm, although I had been pitched headlong, I exclaim: “But, Adjutant,
+my glasses are broken into many bits and I see dimly.” “Never mind; I
+will see for you,” he quickly responds. And so he did. Gallant fellow!
+Brave heart! He gave his young life to his country and his parting
+benediction to me afterwards, in a desperate mêlée and fearful
+charge.
+
+[Illustration: CHARGE OF GENERAL VAN CLEVE’S DIVISION IN THE CEDARS, AT
+THE BATTLE OF STONE’S RIVER, UNDER DIRECTION OF GENERAL ROSECRANS.
+
+The 19th Ohio Infantry forming the right of the front line. Photograph
+of a picture made during the war by Private Mathews, of the 31st Ohio
+Infantry.]
+
+At last the order to fire! From every musket leaps a missile of death.
+The Confederate line wavers! Strong young teeth tear the cartridges. We
+load and fire with energy. The grey line breaks! A charge is ordered by
+Rosecrans in person. They run! How inspiring! What exhilaration! With
+wild yells we rush on. We regain much of the ground lost in the early
+morning and hold it fast and firm.
+
+Again the nightfall, the last of the eventful year. What horrid din, of
+cannon and of watchful picket’s gun, to disturb and harass the weary
+unharmed, who seek to sleep. How cold and miserable the wounded in blue
+and grey who groan and moan between the lines, where succor cannot come.
+
+Morn at last! The new year has come. Both armies are so torn and
+shattered that the re-forming of lines and watchful rest is a
+necessity. The day passes in care for the wounded and hasty burial of
+the dead.
+
+Another night, and again the morning. Who will strike the blow?
+Rosecrans, tenacious of purpose, returns to his original plan. Again
+our division fords Stone’s River in front of the enemy’s right. The
+shortened line of each regiment tells the story of the slaughter of the
+31st. We wait patiently the order to strike.
+
+The hours pass. Few in number, our division is a tempting bait to
+Bragg. General Breckenridge, with a column of many lines, advances
+upon us. With precision of movement they march across the open fields.
+The sight fascinates us! Splendid spectacle! They break the charm by
+opening fire and charging upon us with the shrill yell of the South.
+With a crash the lines meet, to mingle a moment and break apart. Our
+reserve becomes our front line. We fight for minutes that seem hours,
+with bayonet and clubbed musket, with deep cursing and loud yells, with
+hot rage and bold defiance, that rarest of happenings in battle comes
+to us--a hand to hand fight between lines of infantry upon an open
+field. We are overwhelmed by numbers and flanked by the greater force.
+Thrice has our color bearer been felled to earth, and of all the color
+guard not one is unhurt.
+
+But the regimental flag does not touch the ground. Gallant Phil Reefy,
+Lieutenant of Company F, strong and stalwart, bears it aloft. Sullenly
+we retreat to the river bank, fighting as we retire. We reach the
+stream.
+
+What is that deafening roar? It is as though heaven and earth had come
+together. Fifty-two guns, massed by Mendenhall, Chief of Artillery,
+commanding the position we had just left, have opened with grape and
+canister at short range upon the but now exultant foe. What dreadful
+slaughter! Masses of men fall writhing as the missiles hurtle through
+the air. They turn and flee, for mortal men cannot withstand such storm.
+
+We pursue until darkness comes, capturing prisoners, guns and stores,
+and Reefy, proudly exultant, plants the flag of the 19th Ohio upon two
+cannon captured in the tempestuous pursuit.
+
+[Illustration: REPULSE OF THE ATTACK OF THE COLUMN OF GENERAL
+BRECKENRIDGE, BEING THE CLOSING SCENE OF THE BATTLE OF STONE’S RIVER.
+
+Made from a picture drawn by Private Mathews, of the 31st Regiment,
+Ohio Infantry, during the war.]
+
+No battle of the war shows the dash, pluck, bravery and endurance
+of the American soldier better than Stone’s River. The attack, so
+spirited and bold, upon the right wing, under McCook, in the gray dawn
+of that winter morning, that forced it back until the exultant
+enemy was not only on our flank but in our rear! The speedy taking of
+new positions by the troops of the left wing, under Crittenden; their
+gallant and successful charge in the cedars that regained much of the
+ground so ruinously lost!
+
+The sturdy and immovable stand of the center, under Thomas, that
+resisted assaults most impetuous and broke the charging columns into
+disorganized fragments, as waves are broken on a rock-bound coast! The
+dash of the Southerners in attack, the steadiness of the Northerners
+in resistance, the impulsive ardor of the one, the deliberate repose
+of the other; both so characteristic! The bold front, the confident
+daring, the personal exposure, the actual leadership, and the
+unconquerable spirit of Rosecrans, that “plucked victory from defeat
+and glory from disaster!”
+
+All this, any of this, was worth the sacrifice of life itself to see.
+
+It stands in history as a bright page. The dreadful figures of loss
+tell the story of how terribly sanguinary were the engagements when
+Americans fought each other. Of 44,000 Federals, 12,000, and of 38,000
+Confederates, 10,000 were killed and wounded--over twenty-five per
+cent. Recall the fact that at Waterloo, Wellington lost less than
+twelve, and at Marengo and Austerlitz, Napoleon lost less than fifteen
+per cent.
+
+At daylight the next morning, after the battle, my line was formed.
+Shorn was it of half its length, for forty per cent. had fallen. Three
+officers were killed and three wounded. Company B, with more of its
+own dead to bury than there were unhurt survivors to do them honor.
+Ah! the familiar faces gone from us. We who were left looked upon each
+other with feelings unknown before. We felt a kinship stronger than
+brotherhood, as though we were parts of one body.
+
+We heard read, with infinite satisfaction, of the glory of our
+achievements, the congratulations of the General and the thanks of
+President Lincoln. We shook hands with each other that we had been
+specially mentioned in the reports, and took satisfactory delight that
+the commander of the 79th Indiana had officially reported that the good
+behavior of his command might be attributed to the splendid conduct of
+the 19th Ohio, and to the effect of our example.
+
+We were heroes all, and were proudly conscious of the fact.
+
+
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+THE PRESENTATION.
+
+
+The restful weeks following the great battle go slowly by. The ranks
+of the regiment fill up from the return of the slightly wounded and
+the detached. The white tents about Murfreesborough, placed in regular
+rows, form a new city of vast extent. Camp duties, drills, inspection,
+review, guard mounting and dress parade fill the busy hours. The
+fighting giant is in training for the summer campaign of Tullahoma and
+the advance into Georgia.
+
+I recall the afternoon of a perfect day in the early spring time.
+Parade over and dismissed, by some preconcerted signal, to me unknown,
+the first sergeants do not march the men to quarters, but go to their
+positions and company commanders take their places in line. “Attention!
+Battalion!” shouts Major Stratton, assuming the command. I look on
+somewhat amazed at this sudden devotion to a drill not down in the camp
+orders.
+
+The battalion forms square. I am invited to it, and with speech all too
+complimentary and feeling reference to the great battle, its losses and
+its gains, am presented with the beautiful weapons you here admire.
+
+The surprise is only excelled by my delight with the gift. They shall
+be worn with pride, they shall be used in honor.
+
+I cherish them for the sake of the givers, and practice to know how and
+to become worthy to use them. They stand me in good stead very often,
+and familiarity with them does not breed contempt of their power.
+
+Months go by. The Tullahoma campaign has been fought to a finish. On
+ostensible recruiting service, but really for participation in the
+momentous Brough-Vallandigham campaign in Ohio, the opportunity is
+afforded me to go home for a brief season. I avail myself of it, and
+take proudly home to show to friends the gift of comrades beloved.
+
+The duty in the north performed, I turn south to rejoin the command.
+The military situation is most interesting. Like the sharp end of
+a lance, the western army has pierced into the very vitals of the
+Confederacy. Rosecrans has won his objective, Chattanooga; paying
+therefor the bloody penalty of Chickamauga, but is practically besieged
+by an enemy whose camp fires light the many miles of horizon, from
+where the crouching lion of lofty Lookout Mountain, with extended paws,
+touches the Tennessee, around the semi-circle of frowning ridges to
+where the strongly intrenched line again touches the deep flowing river
+at Tunnel Hill. He is relieved from command by the powers that be, and
+Thomas, the reliable, the Rock of Chickamauga, beloved of all men,
+takes his place as chief. He declares his intention to hold his great
+strategic position “until we starve,” and unless help comes, starvation
+seems probable.
+
+[Illustration: GENERAL GEORGE H. THOMAS
+
+“The Rock of Chickamauga.”]
+
+Hooker is on his way from the east with two corps of veterans of the
+Potomac, and Sherman marches to us with the victorious columns, flushed
+with the capture of Vicksburg, from the banks of the Mississippi.
+The great Captain, with the fame of Fort Donelson and Shiloh, comes
+also, to assume supreme command. Grant! Sherman! Thomas! Behold the
+triumvirate! Truly, the great game of war is now to be played by
+experts. I hasten to take place as one of the pawns.
+
+
+
+
+SCENE III.
+
+THE CAPTURE.
+
+
+Where the fight was the fiercest at Stone’s River, Captain Keel, of
+ours, in gallant leadership of his company, was shot in the elbow of
+his right arm. Surgical skill had prevented amputation and obtained
+exsection, resulting in a cartilaginous elbow and sorely crippled hand.
+Thus maimed, he came to me at Nashville and declared his intention of
+reporting for duty. Condemning his judgment, but admiring his pluck, I
+said, “All right, Captain, we will take the first train for the front.”
+
+We reached Stevenson, Alabama, the end of our ride over rough and
+worn pieces of iron, dignified by the name of railroad. From there a
+mountain wagon road formed the connection with the army at Chattanooga.
+Its course could be traced by the fragments of broken wagons, abandoned
+stores, and by the carcasses of the poor mules, strangled in the mud of
+it. Trains laden with ammunition, food and forage started daily from
+Stevenson. The time of their arrival, at the end of the pontoon bridge
+across from Chattanooga was an unknown quantity. It was at least two
+and more frequently four days.
+
+My anxiety to reach the regiment was intense. Upon inquiry I heard of a
+bridle path leading over the mountain and along the bank of the river.
+By starting early and riding hard, one might get through in a day, but
+it was the path of danger. The guns of the Confederates commanded this
+road, and some of our men had been killed, others wounded and captured,
+who tried it. I determined to make the effort. The Colonel commanding
+the post, in response to my earnest appeal, loaned me two horses and an
+orderly, and we started at the first peep of day.
+
+Keel, too greatly disabled to ride a horse, was to go by the wagon
+road, taking the baggage of both. He evinced no reluctance when he
+found that as companions in the same wagon he was to have two estimable
+women of the Christian Commission, who, with supplies for the sick and
+wounded, were bound to Chattanooga upon their heaven inspired mission.
+
+Realizing that my route was hazardous, I put on my oldest uniform,
+stripped myself of all valuables, packing them carefully in the trunk
+that contained all of my earthly possessions. Determined that my
+beloved pistols should not fall into the hands of the enemy, I lodged
+them securely in my trunk, taking in their stead a pair of common
+holster revolvers.
+
+The orderly and I rode through without mishap, receiving no shot and
+seeing but few of the enemy. Arrived at regimental headquarters, I
+found all well, and received a welcome home that thrilled me. I waited,
+somewhat impatiently, for the disabled Captain to arrive with the
+baggage so greatly needed.
+
+The days passed away and gave no sign of him until the fifth after my
+arrival, when a sorry figure rode to the front of my tent. Seated upon
+a mule that had upon him parts of wagon harness, was the Captain, a
+woful figure, with rueful countenance. Don Quixote appeared not so
+disconsolate even after his battle with the knights of the windmill. We
+would have laughed aloud at his sorry plight had his aspect not been
+so serious. “For God’s sake, food and drink!” he cried. Being properly
+refreshed, he told his tale of woe. The train of wagons was proceeding
+slowly along the weary road, when sharp firing at its front evidenced
+an attack. Wheeler’s cavalry had crossed the river and was on one of
+the raids in our rear that made the name of General Joe Wheeler one
+with which to scare teamsters and worry commanders.
+
+The Captain was a man of proper gallantry, a fitting squire of dames,
+but, withal, not lacking in judicious discretion. The Confederate
+troopers certainly would not molest the women, bent upon their
+righteous mission, but to him captivity meant worse than death. Making
+hasty excuses, in unceremonious fashion, he jumped from the wagon,
+pulled a colored teamster off of a mule that he had just cut out of the
+traces of a wagon, mounted and took quickly to the woods on the side
+of the mountain. As he plunged deeper into the thicket, he saw in the
+valley the light of burning wagons, and heard the terrific explosions
+of ammunition with which many of them were loaded. After days and
+nights of distress he at last found his way to our camps.
+
+A day or two after, hearing that the female companions of the good
+captain had reached our lines, I called upon them in the town and heard
+the rest of the story. Wheeler’s rough riders had treated them with
+courteous consideration and did not molest their trunks when told that
+they contained only woman’s apparel. Keel’s baggage and my own was
+evidently rich booty. The new uniforms were seized with delight, and
+my precious seven-shooters appropriated with exclamations of joy and
+admiration. Taking what was wanted, the residue was thrown back on the
+wagons, that had been run and piled together, and made food for the
+flames. The train was but partly consumed when our cavalry appeared
+upon the scene and a sharp fight ensued, with the result that the women
+were released from their unpleasant situation.
+
+While the beleaguered army in Chattanooga, foregoing, if not
+forgetting, the pangs of hunger, echoed the language of Thomas in his
+telegram to Grant, “We will hold this place until we starve,” it was
+with right good will that it marched out in front of its works on an
+eventful November morning, being ordered to make a “demonstration” and
+relieve the pressure on Sherman in his effort to take Tunnel Hill,
+the right flank of the semi-circular natural defense of the enemy,
+composed of Missionary Ridge, with its crest from five hundred to eight
+hundred feet above us, around to Lookout on the left with its proud
+head over two thousand feet above the town. It was a crescent, with
+defensive works erected with engineering skill, bristling with guns and
+reflecting threatening lights as the sun played upon the musket barrels
+and bayonets in the hands of skilled and brave defenders. It looked
+like the curve of the cutting edge of a huge scimitar.
+
+[Illustration: MAP OF THE BATTLEFIELD OF CHATTANOOGA SHOWING THE
+POSITION OF THE CONFEDERATE ARMY AT LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN AND MISSION RIDGE.]
+
+A feeling of amity, almost of fraternization, had existed between the
+picket lines in front of Wood’s division for many days. In the early
+morning of that day, being in charge of the left of our picket line,
+I received a turn-out and salute from the Confederate reserve as
+I rode the line. But the friendly relation was soon to be rudely
+disturbed. My pickets, composed of the 19th Ohio and the 9th Kentucky,
+became the line of skirmishers. Our troops being well out of their
+works, we advanced with our left resting on Citico Creek, and I believe
+that from these regiments came the first shots in that glorious advance
+that resulted in the taking of Orchard Knob, the key of the enemy’s
+position.
+
+With impatient joy they witnessed the stars and stripes on Lookout’s
+crest, and heard the guns of Hooker on the enemy’s left. The evidences
+of the hard fighting by Sherman and the stubborn resistance Bragg’s
+right was giving him were borne on every wind. The flanking assaults
+upon the Ridge were not achieving success. There must be another
+“demonstration” by the center. Grant stands on Orchard Knob, silently
+smoking the inevitable cigar. He sees the heavy work to the right and
+left and that the waning day is showing its lengthening shadows. The
+center must again relieve the pressure. To Thomas goes the order: “Take
+the rifle-pits at the foot of the ridge. At the six-gun signal from
+Orchard Knob, advance the lines to the attack.” Baird, Wood, Sheridan
+and Johnson were quickly in the order named from left to right.
+
+Restlessly they await the signal. It is well on to four o’clock. At
+last the sharp report of a cannon from the Knob! Another! and another!
+and in quick succession the six have thundered forth the order for the
+charge.
+
+To your feet and forward, men of the Cumberland! “Take the rifle-pits
+at the foot of the ridge,” is the order. How splendidly they respond.
+Adding emphasis to their loud huzzas is the noise of the light
+artillery on the plain and the deep roar of the big siege guns in the
+forts of Chattanooga. The crest of the ridge throws its full weight of
+metal at the lines of blue. The musketry fire from the pits is full in
+their faces. But neither shot nor shell can stop the impetuous advance.
+On and on they go, surmounting every obstacle.
+
+The order is obeyed.
+
+The rifle-pits are ours and their late defenders our prisoners. How the
+grey jackets hasten to the rear. We wonder at their haste, but soon
+understood it when the guns of the ridge, depressed to sweep the pits,
+seemed to open the gates of hell itself upon us.
+
+We cannot stay. Must we fall back? Perish the thought. No! No! No
+order given, and yet to every man the impulse. Forward the whole line!
+To the crest of the ridge and take the guns! Every man forward!
+
+Grape and canister from fifty cannon forbid the advance. Wood,
+Sheridan, Baird, Johnson, Willich, Hazen, Beatty, Carlin, Turchin,
+Vanderveer, catching the spirit from the men, shout, “Up, boys! To the
+top!” and grape and canister, wounds and death are forgotten.
+
+On and on and up and up we go, “while all the world wondered.” Grant
+turns to Thomas, and, with distress if not anger in his voice, says,
+“Who ordered those men up the ridge?” Replies our old hero, “I don’t
+know, I did not.” Says Grant, “Granger, did you?” “No,” says Granger,
+“they started without orders. When those fellows get started, all
+hell can’t stop them.”
+
+With hearts in their throats these anxious chieftains watch. The
+spectators in Chattanooga hold their breath in terrible suspense. It
+looks a desperate venture, a foolhardy effort. Can they make the top,
+or will they be driven back to the plain, with columns broken and ranks
+disordered?
+
+The musketry fire from the intrenched line in grey is murderous. The
+cannon belch forth incessantly.
+
+“It is as though men fought upon the earth and fiends in the upper air.”
+
+Not a shot from the wedge-shaped lines in blue as they advance with the
+colors of regiments at the apex of the triangles. Sixty regiments in
+rivalry for the lead! Colors fall as their bearers sink in death, but
+other stout arms nerved by brave hearts bear the flag aloft.
+
+Ah! the lines waver! they cannot make it! But repulse means defeat and
+loss of all we have gained.
+
+Look! again they go forward! Will they reach the crest? See! the
+answer! A flag! the nation’s flag! Our flag upon the top! Another, and
+yet another! The crest breaks out in glory! It is the apotheosis of the
+banner of the free!
+
+The rebel lines are broken! We are into their works! Cheer upon cheer
+“set the wild echoes flying” from Tunnel Hill to Lookout! They tell of
+victory! glorious, exultant victory.
+
+Forty pieces of cannon and 7,000 stand of arms with 6,000 prisoners
+captured give emphasis to the story.
+
+[Illustration: GENERAL GEORGE H. THOMAS AND STAFF AFTER THE BATTLE OF
+MISSION RIDGE.]
+
+The bars are down for entrance next campaign to Atlanta, gate city of
+the South.
+
+I went through the starvation siege of Chattanooga, the battles of
+Orchard Knob and Mission Ridge, and the winter march to relieve
+Burnside, who was penned up in Knoxville, in very uncomfortable plight,
+depending upon my brother officers for the clothing to keep me warm,
+but that which caused me the most distress was the loss, as I naturally
+supposed, forever, of the twin revolvers that rest now so peacefully
+before us, reminders of a time of great happenings by the side of which
+all else in life seems of trifling importance.
+
+
+
+
+SCENE IV.
+
+THE REUNION.
+
+
+[Illustration: “UPON THE WALL HUNG THE GOOD SWORD, WITH THE DENT IN ITS
+SCABBARD.”]
+
+Twenty years passed away, with their changes for good and for ill. The
+great war seemed like a dream, and its events were dim and shadowy. But
+there remained to me some substantial evidence of its reality. Upon
+the wall hung the good sword, with the dent in its scabbard telling of
+the death struggle of the brave black mare, whose name should be on
+Stone River’s roll of honor. In the corner stood the regimental flag,
+presented by my comrades when we parted in 1865, the deep scar upon its
+staff matching the deeper scar upon the manly breast of its bearer
+“in the brave days of old.” I looked at them and longed for the twin
+seven-shooters that should keep them company.
+
+[Illustration: “IN THE CORNER STOOD THE REGIMENTAL FLAG PRESENTED BY MY
+COMRADES WHEN WE PARTED IN 1865. THE DEEP SCAR UPON ITS STAFF MATCHED
+THE DEEPER SCAR UPON THE MANLY BREAST OF ITS BEARER IN THE BRAVE DAYS
+OF OLD.”]
+
+Representing my adopted State, Nebraska, in the Senate, I had reached a
+position that had at least given my name notoriety. It chanced that the
+Major of an Iowa cavalry regiment saw it in the public prints and was
+prompted to write me. “Are you,” said he, “the man who commanded the
+19th Ohio during the war? If so, I have a pistol that must belong to
+you, for the fact of its presentation is engraved upon it.” I am quick
+to respond, and in brief time there came the pistol, as welcome to my
+hand and heart as an old-time friend.
+
+He wrote me its history. During the days of the period of
+reconstruction he was on duty in Alabama, and upon the person of a man
+whom he arrested was found the revolver. The Major took it from him
+and had held it since, hoping that some time he might meet the owner.
+Hearty thanks went to him, and I longed all the more for its mate,
+somewhere existing, but probably never to be recovered by me.
+
+Twenty-eight years elapse after the cavalry raid in the Sequatchie
+Valley. The Congress is in session and a dreary debate drags its
+weary length through the hours. My yawning presence in the Senate
+Chamber would only add emphasis to the dullness there, and I go to the
+Committee Room, to engage in the usual employment of a Congressman’s
+spare hours, the dictation of replies to the endless letters, from
+every direction, on every conceivable subject. There comes a messenger,
+and this his message: “The compliments of Senator Pugh of Alabama, who
+requests the pleasure of seeing you in the Marble Room.” I respond
+quickly to the call, and go to the room of simplicity and beauty that
+is one of the chief attractions under the great white dome. Near at
+hand are three men, two of them well known by me, the third a stranger.
+
+[Illustration: GENERAL JOSEPH WHEELER
+
+“The Marshal Ney of the Confederacy.”]
+
+I hasten to greet my colleague, and then shake hands with warmth of
+greeting with a gentleman I have grown to respect and like. It is
+General Wheeler, once a dashing cavalry leader of Confederates, he
+who harried our rear so persistently and pronouncedly; reconstructed
+into a leader in forensic debate, an authority on parliamentary law,
+and an all-around legislator, whose trenchant pen was surely as mighty
+as his vigorous sword. Cuba and the Philippines are the scenes of his
+later triumphs, and there is no name upon the Army Roll more honored
+now for patriotic devotion and soldierly ability than that of him who,
+during the dark days of the civil strife, was the Marshal Ney of the
+Confederacy.
+
+I am introduced by the courtly Senator Pugh to his esteemed
+constituent, ex-Confederate Colonel Reeves, of Alabama. I greet him
+with pleasure, for he bears upon him those evidences that command
+respect. Both appearance and speech declare the Southerner, and the
+soft broad accents fall pleasingly upon the ear. He said, “I think,
+sir, I have something that once belonged to you, and will give it to
+you with pleasure, for I presume from the inscription upon it you will
+prize it highly.”
+
+He produces the long-lost revolver and tells its story. He bought it
+and its companion from one of General Wheeler’s troopers, who said
+he captured it at the battle of Mission Ridge. I mildly suggest
+that at Mission Ridge the captures were on the other side. He smiled
+acquiescence and said he cared little at the time of purchase from
+whence they came, so that they might be his. He had carried them
+through the war until a fearful wound had disabled him from further
+field duty.
+
+After the war he had loaned one to the sheriff of his county and from
+him it had been captured by some of our troops. I told him of the
+return of that one to me eight years before. We exchange reminiscences
+of the great struggle. We compare experiences. Enemies in war, we are
+in peace friends.
+
+Handling his revolver with easy grace and caressing gesture, he
+makes it mine again, saying as he passes it to me, with pardonable
+reluctance, “I tell you, sir, that is a mighty close shooting pistol.”
+I cordially agree to that sentiment, and we both dwell in thought upon
+the career of these messengers of death that have fought beneath two
+flags, giving loyal support to their masters, who have fought each one
+loyally for his own.
+
+And thus finding each other, after a quarter of a century of
+separation, they came back to me, to be cherished fondly and I hope
+never again to be used.
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE.
+
+
+And so my friend, you have the truthful story. It is not one to excite
+special wonder, but causes, I take it, emotions of pleasure and
+thankfulness.
+
+As the pistols have come peacefully together, so have north and south
+united in fraternity and in devotion to one flag and a common country.
+The war taught mutual respect, and never again can there come between
+these sections the hatred, based upon mutual misunderstandings, that
+led to the attempt at dismemberment. The men who did the fighting
+during those four years of bloody war can have no sympathy with the
+incendiaries who would array section against section upon any subject.
+Their motto is bear and forbear. The disposition to fraternize was
+strong among them even during the strife, and with them now is the
+brotherhood that is the inevitable incident of unity of national
+purpose and a patriotic desire for one destiny.
+
+Long ago, while condemning the false teaching that led to the belief
+that allegiance was to the State, we appreciated how deep abiding was
+the honest conviction of those who, taught in a different school from
+us, made untold sacrifice for the cause they espoused.
+
+Forgetting nothing of the past--the cruel blow at nationality, the
+unhallowed attack upon the flag, with all the sad results of weeping
+and wounds, of desolation and death--we have forgiven everything.
+
+Full citizenship, with all of honor, of governing power, and
+controlling rights that the term imports, has been accorded to all who
+participated or lent aid and comfort to the enemies of the Union.
+
+As the victors and the vanquished have recognized equal courage and
+even powers of endurance, there has come mutual respect. Through the
+throes and labor of reconstruction, with the contact of peoples, the
+interchange of commerce, the common interests of the different parts of
+the national whole, the dovetailing of States through the construction
+of the iron highways of trade, and mutual contribution of the capital
+needed for the development of the new South has come peaceful,
+contented reconciliation. The years that gather wisdom and experience
+to all long ago taught the lesson even to those who fought for it,
+that the cause for which they struggled and suffered was better lost
+than won.
+
+Hail the epoch of concord! All hail, the era of fraternity!
+
+Let us close the lid of the mahogany box, believing that the pair
+snugly ensconced within it shall never serve save as polished reminders
+of other days.
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
+
+
+Extraneous quotation mark on page 11 removed.
+
+Corrected typo in illustration caption “battlelield” to “battlefield”.
+
+Normalized punctuation in illustration caption “CHARGE OF GENERAL....”
+
+Positions of illustrations re-arranged to support the main text.
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77379 ***