Monthly Archives: May 2018

A HERO INDEED.–

Colonel Edward E. Cross, thus described his experience at the battle of Fredericksburg:–

“It came near being my last battle. As we were advancing to those fatal heights in line of battle, I was near my colors. A twelve-pounder shell, from the Washington battery, burst right in front of me. One fragment struck me just below the heart, making a bad wound. Another blew off my hat; another (small bit) entered my mouth, and broke out three of my best jaw-teeth, while the gravel, bits of frozen earth, and minute fragments of shell covered my face with bruises.
“I fell insensible, and lay so for some time, when another fragment of shell, striking me on the left leg, below the knee, brought me to my senses. My mouth was full of blood, fragments of teeth and gravel, my breast-bone almost broken in, and I lay in mud two inches deep. My brave boys had gone along. I always told them never to stop for me. Dead and wounded lay thick around. One captain of French’s division was gasping in death within a foot of my head, his bowels all torn out. The air was full of hissing bullets and bursting shells. Getting on my hands and knees, I looked for my flag. Thank God, there it fluttered right amid the smoke and fire of the front line. I could hear the cheers of my brave men. Twice the colors dropped, but were up in an instant. I tried to crawl along, but a shot came and struck the steel scabbard of my sabre, splitting it open, and knocking me down flat.
“Dizzy and faint, I had sense enough to lay myself out decently, ‘feet to the foe.” Two lines passed over me, but soon they swayed back, trampling on the dead and dying. Halting about thirty yards in the rear, one line laid down and commenced firing. Inagine the situation. Right between two fires of bullets and shell–for our own artillery fire from over the river was mostly too short, and did great damage to our own troops. I lay on the field for hours, the most awful moments of my life. As the balls from our line hissed over me within a foot of my head, I covered my face with both hands, and counted rapidly from one to one hundred, expecting every moment my brains would spatter the ground. But they didn’t
“The guardian angels (if there be such personages) or my destiny saved me. The end of my days was reserved for another and I hope more fortunate occasion. For if I am to die on the battle-field, I pray that it may be with the cheers of victory in my ears. When it became dark some of my men found me and I was carried to the hospital.”
And the prayer of the brave New Hampshire Colonel was answered, for he did “die with the cheers of victory in his ears,” on the ever memorable field of Gettysburg.

Originally posted 2008-01-17 15:17:43.

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THERE’S LIFE IN THE OLD LAND YET!

by Jas. R. Randall

By blue Patapsco’s billowy dash,
The tyrant’s war-shout comes,
Along with the cymbal’s fitful clash.
And the growl of his sullen drums,
We hear it! we heed it, with vengeful thrills,
And we shall not forgive or forget;
There’s faith in the streams, there’s hope in the hills,
There’s life in the old land yet!

Minions! we sleep, but we are not dead;
We are crushed, we are scourged, we are scarred;
We crouch–’tis to welcome the triumph tread
Of the peerless BEAUREGARD.
Then woe to your vile, polluting horde
When the Southern braves are met,
There’s faith in the victor’s stainless sword,
There is life in the old land yet!

Bigots! ye quell not the valiant mind,
With the clank of an iron chain,
The spirit of freedom sings in the wind,
O’er Merryman, Thomas, and Kane;
And we, though we smite not, and are not thralls,
We are piling a gory debt;
While down by McHenry’s dungeon-walls,
There’s life in the old land yet!

Our women have hung theri harps away,
And they scowl on your brutal bands,
While the nimble poignard dares the day,
In their dear defiant hands.
They will strip their tresses to string our bows,
Ere the Northern sun is set;
There’s faith in their unrelenting woes,
There’s life in the old land yet!

There’s life, though it throbbeth in silent veins,
‘Tis vocal without noise,
It gushed o’er Manassas’ solemn plains,
From the blood of the MARYLAND BOYS!
That blood shall cry aloud, and rise
With an everlasting threat,–
By the death of the brave, by the God in the skies,
There’s life in the old land yet!

Originally posted 2008-01-16 14:56:13.

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ADROIT SMUGGLING:–

 Some Irish women searched the market for a very large chicken, and on being shown one, asked if it would hold a pint flask. The dealer thought that it would, and the flask being produced, he satisfied them that it would. That was the chicken they wanted. The women finally admitted that they were going to cook the chicken, place the flask, after filling it with brandy, inside of it for stuffing, and send it to camp.

Originally posted 2008-01-15 20:22:18.

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TOUCHING FAREWELL ADDRESS.–

¬†Orpheus C. Kerr thus wrote, about the time General McClellan was relieved from the command of the army of the Potomac:–
But the whole body of the Mackerels, sane and insane alike, unite in a feeling of strong anguish blended with enthusism, at the removal of the beloved General of the Mackerel Brigade. He has been so much a father to them all, that they never expected to get a step farther while he was with them.
There’s a piece of domestic philosophy for you, my boy.
When the General heard of his removal, my boy, he said that it was likd divorcing a husband from a wife who had always supported him, and immediately let fly the following farewell address:

Head-Quarters of Army of Accomac, Foot of the Blue Ridge.

MY CHILDREN: An order from the Honest Abe divorces us, and gives the command of all these attached beings to Major General Wobert Wobinsor (Heartrend and enthusiastic cheers.)
In parting with you I cannot express how much I love your dear bosoms. As an army, you have grown from youth to old age under my care. In you I never found doubt or coldness, nor anything else. The victories you have won under my command will live in the nation’s work of fiction. The strategy we have achieved, the graves of many unripe Mackerels, the broke; forms of those disabled by the emancipation proclamation–the strongest associations that can exist among men–still make it advisable that you should vote for me as President of the United States in 1865. Thus we shall ever be comrades in supporting the Constitution, and making the Constitution support us.

THE GENERAL OF THE MACKEREL BRIGADE. (Green Seal.)

Originally posted 2008-01-14 14:44:34.

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