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DURING the latter part of the
war, in 1564, and until its
close, in ISOS, I was con
nected with the armies under
Gen. Sherman, usually desig
nated the Army of the Ten
nessee. the Army of the Cumberland
and the Army of the Ohio, wrote Maj-
Cien. O. O. Howard. The campaigns
were exceedingly active. From Chat
tanooga to Atlanta Sherman's soldiers
were under fire every day, except the
three just before crossing the Etowah,
for 113 day.-,. There was not a day or
night in which there were no soldiers
Llain. The screeching shells burst
over our heads while we were sleep
ing, but, wonderful to toll, the sol
diers had become so used to this con
flict that they lost very little sleep in
consequence of the fitful and random
firing at night.
In that period of llf! days there were
"!!) sizable battles fought. In one at
tack I made at Pickett's Mill I lost
S!)0 killed and three times as many
wounded within the space of 15 min
utes. At night I sat among the
wounded and realized something of
the horrors of war. It seems to me to
day as I think of it like a terrible
nightmare, but it was a more terrible
reality, which 1 will not attempt to de
scribe.
When I come to think of the "March
to the Sea" and later the "March
Through the Carolinas," what occurs
to my memory first is the exceeding
hardihood of the soldiers. They re
covered quickly from their wounds, I
mean from those that were not too
severe, and there was scarcely any
illness. Hut when Columbia was on
fire an untold number perished in the
flames. Still more perished from ac
cidental explosion of confederals
shells af Columbia and Cheraw. We
like to turn away from the mangled
corpses and distorted faces of the
wounded thai cannot be described. I
feel the same horror and depression
in view of these things as I did at
Gettysburg, where on both sides up
ward of 50,000 men were placed liors
de combat. For several days poor fel
lows, union and confederate soldiers,
waited in patience, unattended by sur
geons. simply because there were not
enough of them.
Without further detail, imagine the
joy that came over the armies of Sher
man as they gathered about Raleigh,
N. C., in 186G, and were told that Lee
had surrendered and that Grant had
sent Lee's soldiers home to begin life
anew; that. Johnston had surrendered
on the same terms as Lee and all that
belonged to Slocum's, Seliofleld's and
Howard's armies were to march on
the morrow toward Washington, the
capital (if the nation, soon to be mus
tered out of service and then togo
■home. I remember the sudden depres
sion at the news of Lincoln's death;
but still this going home produced too
great a joy to keep ever this catas
trophe of their heavy loss very long
before their minds. They marched
habitually at 20 miles a day from
Ralolgh to Richmond, and never
seemed weary at the close of any
day's march—the camp lire was bright,
the old songs were sung over and over
again ami the Comradeship knitted
during the war would never cease—it
was at. its best when the word "peace"
filled all the air.
I know that we were proud when
we marched past the president of the
United States in our last great re
view; but, as I remember it, it.was a
tearful pride even then. A regiment
had gone out 1,000 strong; it had been
recruited and re-recruited; it had been
veteranized and added to in other
ways; and now it was bringing home
less than 300 of all the men who had
gone out from that section of the
country from which it had come. The
joy of going home for the.".oo was
great, but it was a tearful joy the in
stant one thought of the 800 or more
who could not go home, who never did
go home, who wore buried somewhere
in the broad land over which the :>OO
bad marched, and too often with a
headpiece marked "Unknown."
After the war I stood In the large
cemetery near Murfreesboro, Tenn.,
with Gen. R. H. Hayes (afterward
president) and Mrs. Hayes. 1 remem
ber how Mrs. Hayes, who was an ex
ceedingly handsome woman, looked
up into the faces of the general and
myself as her large, dark, speaking
eyes were flooded with tears, when she
said: "Just, look there, that plot of
ground is covered with headstones
marked 'Unknown.' Unknown, un
known," she repeated, "and yet he
gave his life that his country might
live!"
it was a touching picture, but every
time I think of it I say to myself:
"Really, that 'unknown' soldier, ap
parently unknown, recorded unknown,
was not. really unknown. Somebody
knew him. His comrades knew him.
A mother, a sister, a wife anil children,
if he had them, knew him. There is
a better record somewhere than that
in the soldiers' cemetery." Our faith
is so strong that we all believe in the
resurrection and in the future life and
have a great satisfaction in feeling
that no sacrifices and particularly not
that of life itself for duty, for what
one sincerely Ix lieves to be duty, has
ever been or ever will be made in
vain.
The saddest pictures of all, to my
mind, are those connected with a los
ing battle like that of Fredericksburg,
and still more that of Chancellorsville.
At Fredericksburg the army of Burn
side went straight forward to its own
destruction. The lines of Lee, half en
circling Hurnside's points of attack,
were complete. It was like a trap into
which an animal deliberately puts his
feet. We sprang the trap, and it is
a wonder that Lee had not dealt with
Hurnside's army as the sturdy Thomas
dealt with Hood's at Nashville. I can
see in my mind's eye those immense
plateaus in front of the Marve Heights
and other confederate intrenchments
and barricades covered with the dead
and dying. The plateaus were fairly
blue, as they were dotted with the
wearers of our uniform.
Gen. Couch was standing by my side
in the steeple of a church, near the
elose of that battle, where we together
were taking a fresh reconnoissance,
when 1 noticed that his voice trembled
as he spoke to me. He said: "Oh, Gen.
Howard, look there! Look there! See
the ground covered with the boys in
blue, and all to no purpose."
After we had returned, all of us
who could return, to the other shore
of the Rappahannock, the depression
of the soldiers was greater than at any
other time during the war. We could
hardly speak to each other. Now, after
years, we can recognize the fact that
our grief was balanced by the joy of
the confederates over a great victory,
and yet not a decisive one, gained by
them.
At a moderate calculation there
were sent into eternity more than a
million of men, who left home in the
prime of health and in strength; more
than a million of souls by the terrible
conflict. For one, I am glad, indeed,
that there is an effort on foot to set
tle difficulties without bloodshed. Of
course, the waste of human life is not
all of it. There is in every war a waste
of possession, a destruction of proper
ty and a degradation of character hard
to avoid at the best. I know that there
are some things worse than death. I
know that the union of our states was
worth all that it cost, and 1 know that,
humanly speaking, it was necessary
that we should be purged as by lire;
but is it not wise now to do all that
we can to hold up to the world the
blessings of a great peace; even the
peace that passeth understanding,
which never must exclude any of the
noblest qualities of a womanly woman
or a manly man?
A soul full of memorial greetings to
all our sorrowing comrades of the civil
war
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, MAY 28, 1908
THE MOTHER'S LAMENT.
My son, and only one, was kittle And now. throughout the fair and
slain, blessed land,
And he was all the world, and On love-ordained and sweet Me
more, to mc; morial day,
I gave him at my country's sacred We go, a flower-laden, faithful band,
fane. To spread on hero graves the bloom
When Sherman marched his legions of May.
to the sea.
But for my soldier-hoy that solace is
In danger's threat'ningcloud,at coun- r.ot mine;
try's call. Within a southern vale, afar, he
He left my sida, and parting said to sleeps,
me: And in my heart Is twined the myrtle
"If in the battle, mother, I should vine,
fall. For him, and there rosemary droops
My country and her God will care and weeps,
for tlice."
VM VTXUSJIM aaas
1 AT A PATRIOT'S I
GRAVE
» Memorial Day Spjsch
P FA
By DORA OUPHANT COE. h
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Sv.'SVf/i'i.-.'ii'>.■?■%<. .'St. I'JI'I. -'TII ;r ';iV
GRANDMOTHER ADAM SON iiail
reached into the depths of her
rose-sprigged bandbox, but.
just as her fingers touched
the stiff ruching in the front
of her best bonnet her attention was
arrested by a ring at the front, door.
As though suddenly petrified in her
stooping position, grandmother waited
while Susan Ann, her daughter,
creaked through the passage way lead
ing from the kitchen.
At the first words of greeting grand
mother straightened with a snap like
a jack-knife, and an angry color flamed
on her cheeks.
"Why, Marthy Pollen, what lovely
roses! Did you ever see the flowers
so handsome as they are this year?
Come right in. It's dreadful hot,
ain't it? Seems like I never knowed
It to warm up as early as it has this
season, but. then, it's been awful fine
for the flowers. 'Pears like the roses
and layloeks and pinies has just tried
theirselves to see who could do tlie
most bloomin'. Now, that's a pretty
idee, ain't it, Mrs. Rayburn, that lay
lock wreath?"
"Yes; layloeks was Dick's favorite
flower, and he set this bush out his
sel, and 1 thought I'd make a wreath
to hang on the cross on his tombstun."
The expression on Grandmother
Adamson's face would have made a
good study. From a blaze of anger
it passed through all the stages of
horrified scorn to a stony determina
tion.
The development of the conversa
tion beyond the paper-covered board
walls collected her nebulous chaotic
emotions into a stern resolve.
Susan Ann was stout, and she had
grieved all the morning over the long
walk to the graveyard. As she sank
ponderously into a chair, she la
mented:
"I get heavier on my feet every day
I live, and the heat to-day is just
awful on me. If mother hadn't had
her heart so set on it, I wouldn't try
togo to the cemetery. I just know
I'll be sick."
"Couldn't she walk up with us?"
Mrs. Rayburn "asked. "We'll not walk
fast."
"Oh, mother's as spry on her feet
as yon be. I hadn't thought of her
goin' with any one else, but I don't
see why she couldn't. It'd be a real
help. She ain't got nothin' to carry,
for she took a big basket of flowers
up thfs morning, before breakfast.
She's just thai wrapped up in Decora
tion day I couldn't disappoint her
about goin'. She's gettin' ready now.
I'll go and see if it'll be all right."
But grandmother, with what was al
most one movement, had stooped for
ward and slipped off her congress gait
ers, at the same time taking from lt3
box her bonnet. She slipped a hand
through the round handle of a little
basket and scurried down, the passage
way and out through the back door.
On the step she derived just long
enough to put on her shoes; then, with
her best bonnet carried more careless
ly than ever before in its dozen years
of use, she hurried out through the
back gate.
The cemetery was being made bright
with flowers when grandmother
passed through the iron gateway, and
her face hardened as she recognized
some of the stooping figures and the
graves over which they bent.
At a brilliantly-decked mound she
stopped and, kneeling, said:
"I hate to do it, Jeremiah, but I
know you'd want me to.l won't take
them to any one else, though, Jere
miah, though I know you'd say fur me
to, if you was here. Hut dearie, I've
keered fur these things ever sence
they was buds, jest as tender as if
they'd a b'en babies, and jest so's you
could have them to-day, and I jest
can't see any one else have 'em. Mow
would you like to look over these
posies and see that laylock wreath
a-hangin' on old Dick Rayburn's tomb
stun? You fought, bled and died al
most fur nothin', Jeremiah, when that
old copperhead gits jest as many flow
ers as you do."
Grandmother had turned up the
skirt of her black alpaca dress and,
into the receptacle thus formed, had
yut every flower that had lain on
Jeremiah's grave. She carried them
all over to a far corner of the ceme
tery and buried them under a pile of
last year's leaves. Then she went
back to the bare mound.
Soon the faraway notes of "Cover
Them Over with Beautiful Flowers,"
told that the procession was coming.
Grandmother heard, but she did not
once lift her eyes. She sat directly
upon the middle of the grave, her
skirts spread as far as they would
over the flowerless mound, and she
was knitting as calmly as if she were
seated on a little splint-bottomed
chair in her own room. She paid no
attention to the astonished group that
stopped before her.
"Ahem!" coughed the master of
ceremonies. Henry Rlake.
Grandmother looked up. "Howdedo,
Henry." Then, looking down again,
"one, two, three, widen; one, two,
three, turn."
"We've come to decorate Comrade
Adamson's grave," hesitated the puz
zled Blake.
"Comrade Adamson's grave don't
need no decoratin'—five, six, narrow;
one, two —"
"You hain't forgot it's Decoration
day, have you?" questioned the man.
"If I have, I've been the only one
that has." A flourish of her needle
indicated the flower-decked mounds.
"But Comrade Adamson was a hero,
and he —"
"Because ho was a hero is why I
don't want him .decorated. That's the
only way to distinguish him from
them as ain't heroes."
With a little sweep of her skirts,
grandmother rose to her feet.
"It's jest because Jeremiah was a
hero that his grave ain't goin' to bo
strewed with flowers jest like the ones
"ISMFAWT A 6 SZZTTOJSM/: HW
/VOZFOBS?
where the babies and copperheads
lies. The babies might a-growed up
to be heroes, if they'd had a chanst,
but they didn't, and they's three hun
dred am! sixty-four and a quarter oth
er days in the year to decorate their
graves in. it's almost a insult to —
to—
"Well, this day don't mean nothin'
no more. It used to be set apart that
we might honor the nation's dead,
but the day, like me and some of the
others here, has outlived our useful
ness and our time. Let it be Decora
tion day, if you want to, but don't
call it Memorial day any more. It's
just a holiday for the young folks to
have bail games and picnics, and the
older folks to put flowers on the
graves of their dead.
"Jest look through them trees. Can
you tell wheh is the graves of soldiers
who fought, bled, and died for this
beautiful country? If this day was
what it was named fur, there wouldn't
be a flower in this hull graveyard ex
ceptin' on a soldier's grave. I reckon
it's little enough we do, even when we
set aside a whole day out of a year
to them as give their hull lives, and
mighty promisln' lives some of 'em
was, too.
"Take your flowers. Put 'em on
any grave you happen to see. It don't
matter. This is jest Decoration day.
There ain't no Memorial day no
more." —Los Angeles Times.
Memorial Day.
No pages of a nation's history are
more interesting to its people than
those which record the brave deeds of
its soldiery and no nation on the face
of the earth has established so beau
tiful a custom as that which is con
templated by Memorial day, the strew
ing of spring flowers over the graves
of her departed soldiers.
May the full meaning of the day
come to us with all its solemnity and
all its beauty, and with the patriotic
lesson it presents.
Sides With England.
The ameer of Afghanistan says that
the British government is within its
rights in building strategic railways In
that country.
Yea Head ths
Ifer Fellow's Ad
I* You are reading this one. pi
. j' That should convince you |
, 112: that advertising in those |
j[ columns is a profitable prop- 8
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£ The fact that the other |
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I it ably the reason he is get- 1
| | ting more business than is |
j | falling to you. Would it I
8 I not be well to give the M
9 I other fellow a chance
¥0 Head Your Ad
la T'uese Columns
;
Your Stationery
!s your silent representative. If
you sell fine goods that are up
to-date In style and of superior
quality it ought to be reflected
in your printing. We produce the
kind that you need and will not
feel ashamed to have represent
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pays to send out. Send your or
ders to this office.
The Buyers'
Guide
The firms whoso names are repr#-
sented iu our advertising columns
are worthy or the confidence of every
person in the community who has
money to spend. The fact that they
advertise stamps them as enterpris
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credit to our town, and deserving of
support. Our advertising columns
comprise a Buyers' Guide to fair
dealing, good goods, honest prices.
V /
G.SCHMIDT'S, 1 —
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A HOST TOUCHING APPEAL
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3