he Omaha Sunday Bee
PART III.
Always; Read
THE OMAHA DEE
Best.;;. West
HALF-TIME SECTION
PACES 1 TO S
VOL. XXXVI NO. 49.
OMAHA, SUNDAY MORNING, MAY 26, 1007.
SINGLE COPY FIVE CENTS.
EDWARD YARTON GALLANT SOLDIER OF THE GRAND ARMY
Story of a Soldier Boy Who Has Borne More Than Mortal Hurt on Many Stricken Fields and Who Survived the Horrors of Andersonville to Rear a Family and Settle in Nebraska
t l " NGAGED in nineteen great battles of the civil war, besides
I j smaller skirmishes.
I Wounded seventeen times.
Left on the battlefield for dead twice.
Captured and held in Andersonville prison more than
nine months, reported dead at home.
-This is a part of the civil war record of Edward Yarton, who has
lived for many years in Omaha and now resides in Benson. Left an .
orphan at an early age ho grew up in Rochester, N. Y., the place of
his birth, getting what education he could and making a precarious
living in any way that offered. He was 17 years old when the war
broke out and he immediately offered himself as a candidate for
the army. He was only a boy and very small for his age. He was
refused without hesitation. But he persisted, and in the fall ot
1861 he was finally accepted and enrolled in Company O, Ninth
New York cavalry. They were mustered into the service October
11, 1861, and in December of the same year marched away to join
the famous First corps of the Army of the Potomac, with which
corps he remained throughout the war, always in the midst of the
fiercest fighting of the great conflict.
As they marched away from home amid the plowing ot bands and
the waving of handkerchiefs the boys in blue sang a soldier song
which opened as follows:
We Joined the army the other day,
Because we thought we'd get big pay.
And have some fun 'most every day,
And go way down to Dixie.
The closing verse of the song was. added some weeks later and
ran thus:
When down the river we took our tour.
We tried to sleep about an hour;
Our meat was bad, our coffee sour;
'Twas fun to go to Dixie.
(Pronounced tower.) .
Into Washington and across the river into the very theater of war
the recruits were hurled and there they received immediately such
a baptism of fire as made veterans of those who withstood it.
While on vldette duty one night young Yarton was shot in the thigh
of the left leg. It was an ugly wound, but he merely sat down long
enough to tie a piece of cloth around it and then finished his duty.
In thj first few weeks of the campaign in the Army of the Potomac
ho received five wounds, some of them serious, but never once did
he thnk of golnK to the hosptlal and only on one occasion did he
iw. juio surgeon attend to his wound. "Let 'Frenchy alone. He'll
gi i "trough all right," the surgeons were accustomed to say.
His Dread of Doctors
But at the second battle of Bull Run a bullet went through th
cap of his right knee. It was a serious wound and disabled him
entirely. He was taken off the field In an ambulance and sent
back to Washington. There he lay in St. Aloysius hospital waiting
to have the wound dressed.
"There was groaning and screaming all around me," he say.
"The doctors Were at work cutting and sawing like so many butch
ers. I saw a pile of arms and legs and feet and hands two feet
high. The surgeons were mostly studentB and they decided pretty
Quick whether to cut off a limb or not I was sure If they got hold
otltne they would cut my leg off. A steward came in and I asked
vlj. .i ii. .t- Jt - ...i.lv. , 1naA n 1oH tr, XT a aalA
IMlUi ti ll3L 13 utile uuui nan viun vui. -w
fit opened on to the road at the back of the hospital. When no one '
v Vwas looking I got up and slipped out of the door. An army trans-
port wagon was passing and I begged the driver to -take me along.
A He looked at me I had nothing on but my pants and undershirt .
P "They'll butcher me up if I stay here in the slaughter house," I said.
He laughed and told me to crawl In. I did so and then I found he
was bound, for my own army corps. Well, the boys were mighty
surprised to see me, but I got well of the wound all right, though It
pained me most every day since."
He arrived back in time to take part in the bloody battle of
Antletam, where he sustained two more flesh wounds, which he tied
up with a piece of a comrade's "shirt tall." "After a few of those
battles there were hardly any of us had any shirt left above our
waists," he says.
He took part in tho fierce assault of the union troops on the
. - - -
w -.-Id : -.Mv f-':L
EDWARD YARTON.
)
then I noticed for the first time the number of farmers and other
Pennsylvanians'who were on the field of battle armed with pitch
forks, axes, corn knives, anything they.could lay hands on to fight
with. Many ot these were old fellows who .would not have been
taken as regular soldiers. They were'there to protect their homes
against the invasion of the rebels. They seemed to be fearless."
On the fourth day of the battle, July 4, 1863, the First corps
pursued the fleeing rebels to Harper's Ferry. There, Mr. Yarton
tron confederate position at Fredericksburg in December, 1862. 8ay. me river was rull ol the men and horses swimming across.
" ....... I Montr nl .V .. i V. .1 . .1 . ,
There be was again disabled in the very front of the rebel position ' "" -"c, oiu auu a Brv uauj uuo a
by a ball which grazed the side of his head and destroyed the hear
ing ot his left ear. He also received a sabre cut in th lft wrist la
this battle which nearly severed the hand from the arm. It has
been paralyzed ever since. He was sent back to Washington where
he again found himself in St Aloysius hospital. This time h
tayed on the assurance that he woula not be "butchered up," and
on January 23, 1863. he was discharged from the service as being
unfit for further duty.
taken prisoners.
On the Way to Andersonville
3Lf
Enlisted Again and Captured
He was sent home to Rochester, where he recruited bis strength.
' But the war fever had so firm a hold on him that he could not rest
at home. He heard from his brother, whose-enlistment had run
out, and found that he was going to re-enllst in the Seventy-sixth
New York Infantry. Immediately be also set about getting back
Into the service. But the recruiting officers declared he was badly
enough scarred up already and refused to take him. But the
" doughty little fighter persisted and was successful in the end. though
It took considerable tact to get over the matter of the paralyzed left
hand. Few of those who enlisted In that regiment were to see the
fighting rad endure the hardships that he was to see and endure.
His regiment was assigned to the First corps; he soon found himself
back in the Shenandoah valley. He fought through the battles
there that led up to the great fight at Gettysburg. At the battle ot
ChancellorsTille a bullet struck the barrel of bis gun and glanced,
catering the bend of the arm just above the elbow. "Pull out that
shirt sleeve," be said tooths man next to him. And it was not till
the man had looked at It that he knew he had received a bad wound.
But he bound It up roughly, as was his custom, and continued
through the fight
One day came orders to march to the north. The rebels had
. Invaded Pennsylvania. Yartoa's regiment was hurried to Harper's
Ferry and thence north to the field where the greatest battle of the
war was to be fought. Yarton took part in the bloody struggle of
that famous first day, when 10,000 out ot IS, 000 were killed or dis
abled. At about noon part of the first corps were on Little Round
Top, when their ammunition gave out and the wagons filled to ar
rive with more. The rebels captured 1.100 of them. They were
marched over to the cemetery, just back of Little Round Top, and
their captors proceeded to despoil them of everything they had.
. "They completely stripped us," says Mr. Yarton. "They took
ysr watches, our money, our clothes. Some of tho boys were left
almost naked. One big fellow took my gold watch. Late in the
afternoon the balance of the First corps came up and recaptured us.
I had kept my eye on that big fellow with my watch tn his pocket
and I made a rush tor him first thing. I was on him before he saw
me. He never stole anytlhng more and never killed any more union,
men. I took my watch out of his pocket where he jad put it and
then It was back to the fight tor me.
"It was on the second day of the battle that I got the most pain
ful wound of all. We were assaulting the rebels, who were firmly
entrenched. It was a hand-to-hand fight; we on the earthworks and
they In the trenches. Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my cheek and
when I put my hand there I felt a bayonet being pulled out and saw
a rebel grinning up1, at me. He had stood on a stone and run bis
bayonet Into my chin. It had gone up through my cheek to my
cheek bone. I Was bo paralyzed with pain for a moment that I could
do nothing. The rebel was just about to run me through the body
when my brother, who was fighting close to me, knocked his gun
away and with the same thrust killed him.
l.w nr 10 tL tck Ql lt ctlt sala on the third day, tad
May 4 1864, Yarton'B company was at Culpepper Court House,
when one day at 8 a. m. orders were given to be ready to march in
an hour. All that day they mr-ched and most of the night and
early the next morning they were in the thick of the Battle of the
Wilderness. There young Yarton received the most serious wound
of his life. An officer caught him with his sabre on the right side
of the neck, cutting a gash deep and long, which bled heavily. In
the moment this put him off his guard a soldier hit him over the
back of the head with his gun and Yarton knew no more. When
he regained his senses he was in the. hands of the enemy and a few
weeks later he was marched into the great confederate prison of
Andersonville.
The horrors which he endured there in the nine months he re
mained a prisoner are almost beyond belief. The Andersonville
prison consisted of a stockade made of logs driven into the ground
side by side and enclosing twenty acres. The stockade was twenty
feet in height and on the top were planks on which the guards
Btood. The main stockade was surrounded by two other stockades,
one sixteen feet high and the outer one twelve feet high. On this
twenty acres at times were as many as 40.000 federal prisoners.
No arrangement whatever was made for the comfort or health of
the men. They were herded like so many sheep. The soli was clay
and after a rain the ground was in a worse condition than a pig pen.
Over this Inferno of horror ruled a man eminently fitted for the
position. General Wirtz showed no trace of humane instincts. No
man was more thoroughly hated than ho by so large a body of men.
At the close of the war any one of 60,000 who had experienced the
horrors of that prison would have killed him on sight and felt he
did his fellowman a service.
"I was placed in charge of a thousand," says Mr. Yarton. "Mine
was the Fifth of the 40,000 prisoners there were in tho prlaon.
Every day the carts came in loaded with cornmeal. This was
dumped on a canvas and measured out to those who had charge of
the thousands. Then we distributed it to our men. I used to"
measure it out with a teaspoon and usually it wouldn't hold out for
the entire line." Then the next day those who had missed their
shares the day before always came first and got a little bigger share.
"In the same cart which brought the cornmeal the bodies of the
dead were hauled out of the prison and dumped in the trench.
Thus the rebels 'killed two birds with one stone I have often seen
men following the dead cart around scraping off fragments of corn
meal that had stuck to the side of the cart where some poor fellow's
blood was, perhaps, not Quite dry when they loaded the cart with
meal.
God Sends Water to Men
"Down near the middle of the land enclosed in the stockade was
a slough in which was a pool of stagnant water. This was all we
had to drink. We would push the green stuff out of the way and
drink. It was warm and dirty and reeking with filth, but Wirtz
used to say, 'Dot's good enough for them.' But God did not forget
us, for Just when the suffering was at its worst a spring of cold
water burst out of the ground just inside the dead line. It was a
miracle as wonderful as when Mosos sinoto the rock and the water
gushed forth.
"The dead line was Just twelve foot inside tho stockade. The
minute a man stepped over thKt ho got a bullet. Many a ono took
the 6tep purposely. Ho wanted to bo out of his nitsery. . When a
guard shot a man we said he was 'going to see his girl.' It was suld
they got a furlough of thirty days when they hadshot a prisoner.
"At ono time Wirtz got mad at me and took my thousand nway
and sent mo to the prison stockade. There 1 wa9 starved for ten
days, with nothiug but filthy water to drink. I was also strung up
by the thiynbs for ten hours at a time. Others were sus
pended by the waist, a rope being passed around them and in that
position they hung for hours, their body horizontal and their head
hanging down. Many a weakened man was brought out of Uiero
after this torture and consigned to tho dead wagon.
Life in the Stockade
"From June 1 to July 5 it rained nearly all the time. Tho clay
oil became a sticky swamp, with mud a foot deep. Many a night
I have gotten up when unable to endure that muddy bed any longer
and hunted around with my comrades for dead bodies. These we
would lay side by side and lie down on them and In that way keep
out of the mud and get a little sleep. Thero wero always plenty
of dead, for they died at the rate of 300 a day, and at ono time It
kept three carts busy hauling them out.
"I saw the six raiders hanged in the prison. They wero about
as low down fellows as you could find. Think of men who would
prey on their comrades in such a hell as that prison. I have seen
those raiders go through the camp and struggle with a man who
was very sick or dying and take his few valuables away from him.
Of course, the confederatesdid not give us any police protection and
that gave these fellows a chance. But finally they, were appre
hended. Wirtz allowed them to be tried by somo of us. They were
convicted and then one day timbor was brought in and a scaffold
erected. We chose a few of the strongest from our 'number to act
as executioners. The men's hands were tied behind them and they
walked up on tho scaffold one by one, where the noose was adjusted
and they fell to the death they deserved. Curtlss, the last man,
broke his rope and ran off across the prison and into the swamp.
He kept crying out that if the rope broke a man ought to bo freed.
He was the only coward In the six. But it was no use. He was
dragged back and was soon hanging motionless at tho end of an
other rope.
"Tho hanging of these men did much to restore order and to
mr' stealing and murder less frequent among us. I had now been
tn i: prison more than two months and the horrible life was telling
on me. I had lost all flesh and was a mere shadow. Without ex
periencing it, no one can imagine the horrors of life in that hell hole.
If you would stand In the middle of a muddy pig pen on a hot day
when the sun is drawing the steam and reek from the filth on the
ground up into the air so that you are compelled to breathe it, you
could have some slight idea of Andersonville. Imagine enduring
that for months, sleeping in the mud, sitting and standing in it with
scurvy, dysentery, hospital gangrene, malarial fever and a hundred
other diseases all around you; with men in the last throes of death,
living skeletons with horror-marked faces praying for death; with
the dead wagons gathering up the light emaciated forms and haul
ing them out to be dumped Into the ditch and with men all around
on the stockade ready to shoot you if you give them the least excuse.
That is a mild picture of Andersonville."
Home Again and Married
Mr. Yarton was releasod from the prison February 22, 1865.
' He tells a pitiful Btory of his heroic effort to appear well, though,
he was nearly dead. Had he not done this be would have been kept
In prison. Two comrades helped him into the train and then after
days of delay they arrived in Washington. He was sent on to
Rochester after a short period la the hospital. 'When he arrived
at home he weighed just Blxty-one pounds. It took months for the
recovery, but there was a young woman in Rochester who made a
good nurse. She was Miss Olive BoardWell, the girl he had "left
behind him" when ho marched away to the war in '61. On August
6, 1865, they were married. They have seven children, William E3.
Yarton, Benson; Charles E. Yarton, Syracuse, N. Y.; John F. Yar
ton, Kansas City; Mrs. Joseph Calabria, Omaha; Llewellyn A. Yar
ton, Kansas City; Mrs. Michael Hogan, St Paul, Minn., and Mrs.
Clyde Hollett, Lincoln, Neb.
After the veteran had recovered he moved about into various
parts of the country working at his trade of carpenter. They finally
arrived in Omaha in 1887. Here he worked for a tlmo in the rail
road shops and a few years ago he and Mrs. Yarton moved to Ben
son, where they have a pleasant little place, with chickens and a
garden, and there the battle-scarred vetoran tries to take his ease.
He still suffers considerably from his wounds. The dent in his head
put there by that rebel at the Battle of the Wilderness gives him
more pain than the rest. A silver plate two inches in diameter
takes the place of a large piece of skull which the surgeons removed.
Five years ago Dr. R. M. Stone and other surgeons performed an
operation on Mr. Yarton and took from his abdomen a big and badly
battered bullet. That bullet had entered his body at the Battle of
Gettysburg and for nearly forty years had lodged In him and given
him pain.
Mr. Yarton Is a Blue Lodge Mason, a member of the Methodist
church and, of course, a prominent and honored, member ol the local
Grand Army organization, Crook post, No. 262. He atill has the
Springfield rifle which went with him through his adventures. "I'll
always keep it,"1 he says, "and when I die it goes into the box with
me. It was my friend In lite and In death I won't be parted from,
It."
Arlington Cemefery Where Sleep the Nation's Dead
-k "T EBRASKA has a heart Interest in the Im-
I . posing services for the dead which are
1 M
f
held at the National cemetery at Arling
ton every Decoration day, for here rest
many of Nebraska's soldiers and heroes.
Notably among the latter is General Crook, who
did so much for the state in subdaTng the Indians
during his command of the regiment stationed
here in 1879 and subsequent years.
Then Nebraska can claim as its own General
Ware La)wtou, who was cf invaluable service to
the whole country. Enlisting In the ranks, his
promotion was rapid, until in 1862 he wes pro
moted to the rank of captain, just one year from
the time ot hl3 enlistment. During the civil war
he distinguished himself for bis bravery, received
a medal from congress in recognition of the splen
did work done at Atlanta, Ga., when he led the
attack in the very teet'i of the enemy's guns. His
knowledge of Indian tactics proved Invaluable to
his country during the Spanish-American war,
both in Cuba and the Philippines. But one morn
ing while leading an attack at San Mateo he waa
shot by a toe while walking in frontf the line.
Then there Is General Stanton and General Stot
Benbnrgh, all brave sons of the soil, and many
more soldiers and officers 'whom Nebraska has
done its part to contribute to this great republic.
A small hamlet lies at the end of the bridge
that spans the Potomac, which you have to cross
to reach the National cemetery. The electric
can wait to convey, travelers to Arlington, bat
usually after a glance into the shady wood and
long breadths ot country air they decide to walk
and learn the topography of the country better
than if they were under the dictation of the mod
ern wizard of electricity.
While passing along the wood lying between
the village and the wood they stop to view Wash
ington. With its white buildings rising in solemn
quietude, hazy clouds floating in fleecy rolls over
its heights, it reminds one of the fabled cities
rising Phoenix like out ot the mist, or that strange
city that arose out of the sea, seen by Christopher
Columbus and his men, who, under the decree ot
destiny, discovered a home for weary Liberty.
Softly through the stillness comes the '"Dead
March" in solemn strains. Nearer it comes, its
many sobbings sounding strangely in nature's
many echoes.
Down the Iwhlte.road rides a funeral train.
First the guard and then the caisson bearing the
body of the dead soldier, shrouded in the folds of
the flag he loved so well.
Sadly the notes ring out; In the heavens the
remorseless sun looks on in cruel Indifference.
Above the music rises the song of a bird. The
carol of hope. Joyously it rings, cutting .with
clearness through the deeper tones of the dirge.
Nature's solace for nature's decree. The people
gaze at the caisson, still, but their eyes are fixed
on the stars of the flag; stars that suggest and
beckon to the above the soldier's rest and reward.
Through the woods they hurry on, for the ad
vance notes of evening are sounding. The purling
brook at the right slugs on Its vaunted lay ot
eternity:
For men may come, and men may go,
But I go on forever.
We know better, little brook. Other waters
will come and sport and play In your place. You
must meet the Inevitable, the destroying touch ot
change.
Fort Myer looms before us. Soldiers are sta
tioned to guard their dead comrades. The graves
have a better guardian One who never olettpa.
On fame's eternal camping ground J
Their silent tents are spread,
And glory guards with solemn round
The bivouac of the dead.
Thtse Immortal lines are engraven on the
gates at the entrance ot Arlington. The low
green graves are all around us. It little matters
what side they battled on. If the wrong, we rwlll
forgive them, for they have paid the price of
their mlsjudgmtnt. Let confederate bending over
the grwe of federal whisper low words of peace,
while federal at the grave of confederate whisper,
"They lost, but were brave."
An impressive Eight, yet one that stirs deep
thoughts is the monument erected over the re
mains of the unknown dead. Unknown. Mothers
have wpt over the uncertainty of their fate;
sweethearts have waited in alternate hope and
duspalr, while little children have called la vaia
for father, but they are sleeping In peace with
the foe in the common bosom of Mother Earth.
To the south 1b the plot set apart for Spanish
war veterans. Many a young life was laid I4w
In the very springtime of youth. Off they went,
with buoyant steps, flushod with tho wine ot war.
Back they came, cold in death's embrace.
Over this slaughter of young life one can
Imagine Peace weeping as a mother weeps for her
only son. But the pitying band of compassion has
returned them to Peace, and she guards them sate
for ever more.
The mansion at Arlington was built by John
Parke Custis, the stepson and protege of George
Washington. In after years a Custis intermarried
with a Lee, so the property came into the Lee
family. It was this quiet home that Robert E.
Lee left when he went to Richmond to take up
arms for his native state. How often during the
years that followed his heart must have turned
to the quiet peace of Arlington.
The government while he was fighting con
fiscated his home for unpaid taxes and for many
yeor3 refused to render adequate remuneration
for the injustice. At last It awoke In a sense to
the recognition of individual rights, even when
demanded by persons holding opinions other than
the opinions of state.
Compensation was made to the Lee family and
the place was set aside as a final resting pluce
(Continued on Page Five.).
