THE SEMI-WEEKLY TRIBUNE, NORTH PLATTE, NEBRASKA.
h
WITH THE "BOYS"
Veterans Reminiscent of the Glo
ries and Hardships That Were
Theirs During the Great
Civil Conflict.
SEATED on the benches in the
sun were a bunch of "the boys"
a part of tho 5,000 living at
tho National Old Soldiers' home
at Dayton, O.; comrades of tho 11,000
sleeping beneath the row upon row of
marble Blabs, all precisely alike, just
beyond the barracks.
"The boys" yes. The fifty years or
mora between "be hanged!" James D.
Newberry, being wheoled about in a
chair, was "Jim" again back in Ken
tucky, Just "goin' on twenty' and let
ting his folks, who wero "robs," get
mad at him if they wanted to; Peter
Buolt, his eighty-three:year-old shrunk
en body wrapped tight in an army
overcoat, was a dashing young French
man enlisting at Toledo; and Israel
Wirts, with a crippled right ankle
from a wound at Peach Tree creek,
and hobbling on crutches, was once
more seventeen and the best foot rac
er around Palestine, O.
"There were nno girls in those
days," mused1 John Lynch, pulling at
his gray goatee, "and I'll never fprget
the one that I took buggy riding tho
moonlight night before ub boys left
New York state. I was living in a
little town on tho Hudson river and
was captain of a boat, tho Bella, If 1
wasn't but nineteen years old. I had
come down tho river with a load of
lumber, and on getting back in town
I got hold of a New York nowspapor.
In it I read of the battlo of Bull Bun.
Coming up on Main street I found .all
tho boys wore talking about it. There
wero 13 of us in tho gang and they
said they would go if I would. That
night we all took our sweethearts for
a buggy ride and then had refresh
ments at Miss Duffy's ice cream par
lor. Wo boys merchants' and farm
ers' sons, not a one of us over twenty
wero all combing our hair like Gen
' eral McClellan. Qad, those girls! I
can see them now in their crinolines,
and they all backed us to the limit
about leaving.
Captured in "Wilderness."
"Well, it was along about this time
of tho year early in May that we
boys who had chummed together up in
New York state were pressing through
tho woods in the battle of the Wilder
ness, The trees wore so thick that
wo couldn't see into them SO feet.
Tho commander of our division waB
to blarao. IIo let himself be out
flanked. All at onco I heard firing
bohlnd us and I knew we had gone too
far. I hadn't any more than looked
around than I heard a 'Johnny' Bay:
"'Put that gin up, Yank. Put it
up or I'll blow h 1 out of you!
"Tho fellows who had cornered ub
wero boys just like ourselves except
III SOLDIERS' HOME
thfet they had on butternut uniforms.
Why, when we rode with them on
top of box cars, on the way to Andor
sonville, I had a knlfo they wanted.
They could have taken It away from
mo, but they Insisted on giving mo
$800 in confederate greenbacks for it.
Afterward I gave the $800 for a water-
melon, and we ate It red, white,
green, and all. '
Took His Sombrero.
" 'Course we didn't know wo wero
going to a place like Andersonvillo
when those 'Johnnies' told us to hold
up our hands, but there wore a dozen
of them to our one and we didn't ar
gue. They took us back of their lines
that night and corralled ub on a
beautiful meadow and we slept fine. I
was wearing a sombrero that my
brother had sent me from a Fifth
avenuo shop, and one of tho guards
came up and .grabbed It. It made me
so mad that I told him I could lick
him, but he just laughed. I had to go
bareheaded until the next day, when
I picked an old cavalry cap out of the
ditch. Wore that cap all through An
dersonvillo with the sun beating down.
You know what Andersonvillo was.
' "I'll never forget that little curly
headed Nlnlan Fox. Saw him lying
in the bushes thero in the wilderness.
MEMORIAL DAY
Hate off! 'Tls here they make
Their last, unbroken camp,
No busies shall them wake.
For them no war-steeds champ,
The captain and his troop,
'The corp'ral and his squad
Form one all-equal croup
Beneath the peaceful sod.
Hats off! For here they come
Those others, still on guard,
Who follow to the drum.
By time and tempest scarred.
The private and his chief,
The blouse and clievroned sleeve
Together ranked In .grief,
As comrades Joined, to grieve.
Hats off! Unto tho van!
Hats off! Unto the rear!
They mingle, man and man.
In mem'ry, and 'midst tear.
Now sadly sounds the "taps!"
Slow moyes the guard away,
Again are drawn the flaps
Until another May.
Looked as if he'd just laid down to
go to sleep until I turned him over
and saw the place in his forehead
whore tho bullet had gone through.
All I could do for him was to tako his
trinkets a picture, a testament, and
a few other little things and see that
they wore sent back home. Wan't
many of my chums left to get to An
dersonvillo, and three of them that
did get there never came out."
At the' end of the row of benches a
robin hopped from a bush where pur
ple lilacs nodded, and it chirped as it
tho first spriug tho world had over
known was tho one at hand. William
Scott, his beard gray and his oyos
dim, cleared his throat and pointed
with his cane in the moist earth.
Made Mary Anxious.
"Wo was about here when Plckett'B
division came out of tho woods hero
and charged up to within 1,500 yards
of where the batteries was," ho ox
plained, tracing a map on the ground.
"They came onto a rail fence and
tried to pull it down. When they
tjund thoy couldn't tear the fence
down they started to climb over it.
Then wo poured canister Into 'em
Wo mowed 'em down like grass. But
I tell you at first there at Gettysburg
I thought they was goin' to get us
Thoy hadn't stopped for anything, and
their yell was enough to make your
heart freeze. Did you over hqar tho
rebel yell? It sounded Just Hko a
lot of women yellin', but when we saw
'em waver and fall back then wo
yelled.
"It was tho liveliest Fourth of July
I ever saw. It was 'load and firo" as
quick as we could. I was a corporal
in charge of a gun and there wero
twenty men lost in our battery. Goin'
down tho Baltimore piko after tho
light and after' the rain tho gutters
was runnin' with blocd. When Mary
heard about Gettysburg and know I
was In it she wat pretty anxious, I
guess.
Wanted Him to "Stick."
"Mary7 Oh, she lived up in Wllkcs
Barre, where I enlisted from as a kid.
I was only seventeen and was working
as a patternmaker when tho war broko
out. Three of my brothers had gone
before. I'll never forget how tho band
played 'The Girl I Left Behind Me.'
After I'd gone Mary wroto to mo a
good deal and said she wished I was
home, and still she wanted me to stick
till it was over. When I got a piece of
Bhell in my leg at Spottsylvania I
didn't think for a while there was goin'
to bo any goin' home. But, pshaw,
'twan't long after that that I helped
tho boys raid a sutler, two miles out
sldo tho camp. He'd been ovor
chargln' ub pretty stiff. I ran tho
whole two miles in tho dark that night
luggin' a big box. Thought I had a
prize. Ha, huh! that box was, full of
popper!
"Mary hardly know mo when I got
home. You see, when I left I didn't
have any whlskors on my face, but I
wa'n't long lottln' her know who I was
and wo didn't waste much timo about
gettln' married. Dear girl, wish I
could see her now."
Reinterments at Gettysburg.
Tho work of rclntorrlng tho dead on
tho Held of Gettysburg began on tho
twenty-seventh of October, 1863, and
was completed on tlfo eighteenth of
the following March. The number re
burled was thirty-live hundred and
seventy-five. This docs not mean that
even half the dead wore found, for tho
wholo field was dotted with graves.
In reinterrlng the bodies in the ceme
tery every effort was made to discover
tho identity of tho men and this in
many cases was dono and tho relatives
of tho dead soldier had his remains
taken homo, tho Identification being
mudo through articles found on his
body. An entry cf each article found
was made. Theso things are kept and
numbered to correspond with tho num
ber of tho gravestono of him upon
whose body tho articlos wero found.
The following is an examplo of the
record:
John SykeB Atnbrotypo of a young
girl; sixty cents; comb,
Unknown Pocket book; lock of
brawn hair; picture cf man 'supposed
to bo bis father.
f'opyilKht. 1316. by the MfClure Newspa
per Syndicate.)
THE rain fell stcndily on tho
drenched earth. .From tho
blossoming apple orchards
waves of pcrfumo wafted over
the land.
Sarah Lewis glanced up sharply ns
her son came into tho room.
"Where nro you going Potor?" Bho
aBkod.
"Down to tho choir practice" ho an
swered quietly.
Tho old woninn looked out Into tho
fust falling dust. Sho felt that what
she had to say could be nioro easily
spoken it her son's big brown oyos
wero not watching hor furtively,
"Do you remomber what happened
twenty years ugo tomorrow, my son'"
she asked.
"Certainly, mother, I reniembor. I
am not likely to forgot It," he replied.
"I hope you never will, my son.
Yon wero hut Bevon then, Peter, but
you must remember that sad homo
coming of your slain father. Perhaps
you oven remember that tho body of
another soldier was brought horo at
tho sanio time, by tho namo train.
You know who I mean Asa Lynn,
IIo fought on tho Confederate sldo."
"I know it, mcthcr," said Potor,
gently.
Only nineteen years had passed
slnco the closo of tho Civil war tho
events of that distressful poriod wero
vividly prosont in Sarah Lowls'
memory.
"Asa Lynn fought on tho wrong
sldo," she wont on In a bitter tone
"It may oven have boon his hand that
took your father's life. Wo shall nover
know."
"I, for ono, shall give him tho bene
lit of tho doubt," said Peter gravely.
"Bocauso ho was BcsbIo Lynn's
father, I suppose"
Ho flushed deeply and a determined
look camo Into his face. "You should
know mo hotter than that, mother,"
ho said shortly.
"I know you better than you think,
my son. I'vo heard I've seen I
"Where Aro You Golno, Peter?"
know what Is going on between you
and Bessie Lynn, whose father lought
in the Cpnfedorato urmy and who very
likely murdored your poor father!"
"Ah, 1 don't like to look at It In
thnt horrible way, mother! I always
liko to think of them both as bravo
men fighting for what they believed
to bo tho right. Now, kiss mo,
mother, I'm going. Aren't you going
to prayer meeting tonight?"
"No," said Sarah Lowls decidedly.
"It is at Mrs. Lynn's and you know
wo haven't spoken for twenty yenru,
and nover shall speak If 1 havo my
way. I hope this rain doesn't spoil
all tho flowers. I want to put oomo
on your father's gravo In tho morning
before tho crowd gets to tho come
tory."
"The snowball bush 1b' almost
breaking down with Its lead of bios
soma and tho lilacs aro out," said
Peter pacifically as ho left tho Iioubo.
Sarah Lewis watched him until his
sturdy form disappeared down tho
darkening road.
"I wouldn't havo cared If it had
been any other girl than Busslo
Lynn," sho groaned bitterly. "I sup
poso Mary Lynn Is Just easy enough
not to mind but 1 do!"
It wns not raining on tho morning
of Memorial day, but It was a pale
and watery sun that shono on tho
headstones in tho Edgerly churchyard,
Tho Lowls plot and the Lynn plot
wero side by aldo. separated only by
iron chains looped from grnnlto posts.
Tho graves of the two soldiers wero
almost aldo by ldo rather less than
four foot apart, only tho soft turf
and tho sagging chain betweon.
Tula very proximity of tho graves
was another drop In Sarah Lowls'
blttor cup. Onco an ambitious peri
winkle had crept from Asa Lynn's
gruvo under tho chain and had pro-
cocded to cstnbllsh itself directly over
tho resting plnco of tho other soldier.
Mary Lynn and hor daughter had
discovered it and had loft It untouched.
When Sarah discovered it sho tore It
ruthlessly up by tho roots and Hung
It contemptuously into tho adjoining
lot.
So, in Hko manner, sho had repelled
all tho gentle ndvnnces of Mary Lynn
and her daughter,
Early In tho morning Sarah and
Poter cnrrlod great baskets of flow
ors to tho churchyard. Thoy heaped
tho well-kept mound with Biiowhalls
and nines nnd blood-red sprays of
Japan quince, not forgetting such a
llbural display of tho national colors
ub bolltted the occasion.
Hut Asa Lynn's gravo was baro savo
for Its green covering of turf nnd tho
bluo-llowerod porlwlnklo.
Petor had Mulshed his task nnd wan
gazing wistfully at tho flowers still
remaining in his basket.
"Mrs. Lynn and Hesslo linvo lie on
called . ovor to Plantsvlllo," ho said
Bessie and Peter Went Away Together.
hesitatingly. "Hor sister 1b sick. I
don't supposo you'd want mo to put
these over thero" ho noddod across
tho chain.
With a florcu look and without a
word Snrah Lowls snatched the bas
ket from his hand and began to heap
tho sprays of lilac on tho mound ul-
reudy hidden beneath a wreath ot
blossoms, and then In silouco thoy
wont tholr way homownrd.
David returned to his work In tho
Hold, and all long Snrah went
about her houtn.old tasks with com
pressed Hps.
It was, indeed, discouraging to on-
d6avor to bring up n son to an In
heritance of patriotic hatred and then
havo him retuso It!
It wob a tempostuous evening. Tho
sun disappeared in a cloud bank and
soon it began to storm fiercely. Dur
ing tho night a hurricane lnshcd tho
earth mercilessly and stripped tho re
maining blossoms from tho orchard
treos.
At daylight It cleared and, aftor
thoy had breakfast, Petor and his
mother mudo tholr way to tho church
yard to see what havoc tho storm had
wrought. Peter boro with him a
basket of flowers gathored In antici
pation of what tho Btorm might do.
Ab thoy entered tho gate thoy saw
Bessie Lynn and her mother passing
in almost bosido them.
F ED A O ED
By Douglas Malloch
Take down the battered bugle
And let it speak again
Let the drum's mad beat
In the sunlit street
Keep lime far tho marching men.
Unfurl the tattered banner
To wave as once of yore
O'er the sleeping head
Of the soldier dead
Who shall look on its folds no more.
Take down the battered bugle
And sound the old-time note
Let us listen still
'To the message shrill
That comes from its ancient'' throat.
But the red and rusted rifle,
The sword with the battle scar,
tihall leap not again
To the. breasts of men
Let them hang where they arc,
where they are!
Tho two oldor women nodded stiff
ly, Mosaic Binllod uncertainly and
Peter hesitated rather awkwardly.
Arriving nt tho objoctlvo point at
about tho sanio time, tho four stood
speechless nt tho transformation
worked by tho storm whoro thero
had been two graves now appeared
only ono, an unenclosed area covorcd
wllh wnter-soaked purplo and whlto.
As It to omphnslzo tho futility ot
Boctlonnl bitterness, not a slngio flag
remained above tho gravo of tho Fed
eral soldier, but ono had found a lodg
ment directly ovor tho spot whoro tho
fallen Confcdornto slept.
And this Mny morning, with tho
song of birds nnd tho smell of flow
ers, seemed very fnr removed from
battlefields.
Mnry Lynn lifted her tear-flllcd
oyes.
"You did this, Sarah," she quav
ered. "It was good ot you to for
get nt laBt."
Hut Sarah Lowls raised n protesting
hand.
"No, I ntn not good enough to havo
dono it! God did it himself with his
wind nnd storm to robuko mo! I sup
poso ho thought if ho could forglvo
them for lighting, surely a wicked old
woman Hko mo"
Then Potor unhooked tho chain
and Mary Lynn camo through and put
her arms around his sobbing m6ther.
Sho motioned to tho other to lcnvo
thorn.
Hosslo and Peter went away together.
PAID THE PRICE OF PEACE
I First Thounht That Should Inspire
1 Americans on Each Memorial
Day Anniversary.
If Memorial day emphasizes to the
American pooplo ono fact moro than
any other, It 1b that tho prlco of peaco
is human Hfo. Fifty years hnvo passed
slnco Grant and Leo mot at Appomat
tox, during which poriod a war debt ot
billions has been practically pnld, a
ravaged country wholly rehabilitated,
industry and coramorco dovolopedi nnd
wonderful achievements made In tho
arts nnd sciences, all accomplished nt
tromondouB cost. Yel today tho mil
lions paid, the tremendous effort put
forth, tho great burdens then assumed,
count for less than tho loss to tho na
tion in human Hfo. Today, North and
South, only men, bravo men, aro
mourned ns tholr graves aro strewn
with flowers.
It sometimes Booms that, in tho rush
and roar of Hfo, oven tho prlco of peaco
has' been paid without rogrot. But
Hfo is dissimulation. In hundreds ot
thousands of homes thero are faded
portrnlts, tattered uniforms, little re
minders ot a thousand aorts which, in
n quiet hour aro again and again bap
tized In toars, as thoy suggest per
sonal loss, blasted hopes, destroyed
happiness, and still, theso but quicken
memories fhnt nro over with those
who really paid tho prlco, just as tho
corcmonles nnd exercises today bring
back more vividly tho partings, tho
anxious days, tho .terrible news ot 50
years ago. In tho very wordB "Me
morial day" thero Is a wealth of mean
ing n somo which those of tho prosont
generation cannot understand ns fully
as thoy should, to appreciate the Big
ntllcanco ot observanco of tho day.
And yot, thoso of tho present gener
ation havo only to look across tho At
lantic, and contomplato tho enrnngo
and destruction thero, to gain a bettor
appreciation ot tho prlco paid by this
nation beforo thoy wero born. Figures
toll sompthing, but henrts toll more
broken henrts which timo cannot heal.
Let imagination touch tho sorrows of
tho countless widows and orphans this
great war has mado, lot it reckon tho
prospects of Hfo dashed to ground,
yes, burled beneath blood-soaked sod,
and thero will como soma conception
of 50 years ago In this country, and ot
the Blgulflcnnco of Memorial day ded
icated to tho men who fought and
died, constituted tho real price ot tho
peaco this country has enjoyed for
half a century.