The Rutland daily globe. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1873-1877, 1873-05-31

all lills, nave you nOt lONcu your country
better than before? Have you not thought
how dear must be the land that cost so
much! Have you not highly resolved to be
the willing instruments of Providence to
"temper the winds to the shorn lambs,
and to rc-supply and supplement the
strength of those who upheld the flag until
they cannot now uphold themselves?
Comrades, this day for you is great with
memories that are not altogether sad. It
withdraws you from the single banded toll
of private life and takes you back to scenes
of hardship but of glory. 1t inspires you
once more with objects infinitely above
yourselves. AS you again touch elbows in
the ranks and march with that old steady
tramp which time cannot disturb how like
a tide the vanished years come back and
how they dwarf the present with the gran
deur of their deeds. The scenes of camp
and march are here, or rather YOU are
there. The haunts of childhood are not
more vivid than the picket posts you held.
You can thread the winding paths Of Viz
gnia forests or navigate the bavous of
Louisiana as easily as you wcnd your way
through these familiar streets. lOu think
that you could go at midnight to the byou-
acks, where danger brOOded DER YOU, or to
the camps where life though hard was gay.
How sounds the reveile upon your wallcn-
ing ears. How the good old buglc echoes
all the calls of camp How rise before
you the hcauteOus lines of drcSs-p parade and
how the rafting drum corps rolls out the
airs you thought you had forgotten. The
only things you cannot realize are the pri-
vations you endured. They may have left
their marks upon YOU but their twnging
tormcnts are like half forgotten dream.
You can see the very swamp where you lay
soaked at night, but you cannot feel the
rain drops as they battered on your check.
You can think OF empty .hayersacks aye,
and recall starvation In the prison pen. but
somehow the pangs of hunger do not re
turn.
In the glory of achievement these things
pass away. As when Phil Kcarncy in the
heat of battle graspcd At his bridlc-rein with
the sleeve that had been emp!ied years be-
fore, so are we all prone to forget, in fight
ing our battles DER, the hardshps we en-
dured and the disabilities that we incurred.
BE it so. But the great events which made
the conflict war stand out in bold relief the
blows that we gave and took we give and take
again. Somebody listening to me now recalls
Bull Run; another, Fair Oaks; another
dashes through the bloody Warwick Creek
others leap the death gulch at Antietam
scores storm the heights at Frcdrcksburgh
| and more meet death and conquer scandal
down mt Baton Rouge numbers there are
who with Old Joe Hooker" penetrate
above the clouds and from the criusoned
crest Of Lookout Mountain look down on
all their former lives as little in comparison
with one great deed, and who but thinks
of Gettysburg where treason's highest tide
dashed up against your front. and surgcd
and broke, and cbbed away
But not in a general vicw-nOt rs the
soldier see them, even at this safe time and
distance. He sees them only in part and of
that part was he, Let us go with him
through one scene. Do not imagine that
he is anything but flesh and blood When
he sees cannon placed in line and long divis-
ions massing here and there, he knows
that there is work ahead, of which he may
not live to tell. What thoughts of home
and kindred crowd his mind in that dread
silence which preccdes the strife; what
confidential messages terminates and friends
exchange what silent prayers are said,
even by those who never prayed before, you
know as well as | can tell. All your love
of life and all your sense of civilization
rises in protest against the inhuman bar
barism that is impending You think of
the foe, not with hatred but as human be-
ings aye, and as brothers, and you almost
|
which you fancy to be lowering above both
armies-you wonder why the all-merciful
God whom you have been taught from in
fancy to look to as loving father-wilnot
touch the hearts of the combatants and lead
them then and there to the consummatiOn
of an honorable peace. You watch the
flags at corps headquarters and every move
ment seems signal You imagine that
every courier who Gallops to the lines con-
veys the al-momentous order. If the shots
thickea on the skirmish line, you hold your
breath.
Call you these the musings of a coward?
There is not one soldier in hundred who
has not felt them more wildly than | can
tell. And yet, these same soldiers, paled
to the lips, silent, stern, could not be
moved from their posts by anything but
orders, and when the fierce conflict comes
you see them, self-controlled, the hravest
IN the fight. Did you ever read in a news
paper that the army was in excellent con.
dition and the men were spelling for
fight! These same nicn We're the first
whom the prospect of fight would spoil.
Did you ever hear soldier say that when
once fairly in he had no feary Such sol
diers have been known TO be the first to get
unfairly out. ParadoXical as ii may sound,
there is no bravery without fear, and this
same typical, true soldier, whom we com
menced with in the fight, filled with terror,
thoughtful, prayeriul sad, is the one of
whom history writes the greatest deeds
and of whom eloquence and poetry never
tire to tell.
The preparations are all made. The army
waits. Horses, unconscious of the general
awe, pluck clover in the field The little
brook that slakes the soldiers battle thirst
| hnbllpg nc 10 vic l,xsn al
kline. The tall trees wave as gently as
though picnic were gathered in their
shade. The birds float through the air in
blissful ignorance that soon the swiftef-
winged messengers of death will come.
The few, white, ilcecy clouds above give
no portent of a gathering storm, and the
sun-the same bright sun which shines
upon your dear old home tells of no hurri-
cane that man cannot control. And yet,
you lie upon the ground and wait, and
watch but wait not long. A white puff, II
sharp flash, loud crash, a blowing through
the air, and in an instant what change
No hurricane has come, but the storm of
battle has and all along yon bristling
ridge you see men spring like demons
through the smoke to serve the fast dis
charging guns. Explosions fill the air.
The air grows wild. The whir of iron
fragments sounds like the hum of
stones from many slings. Trees crash and
shed their limbs, rocks smoke and glance
like flint, and men are mown and the earth
is plowed in this harvest of death and seed
time of souls. Why don't our cannon of
tener reply? Why stand our officers as if
ovcrawed? Why do three miles of men
lie still and let three hundred shells "A
minute make havoc in their triple ranks !?
There's silence by and by; breeze watts
up the sulphurous smoke, and o, look there!
The long gray lines come on with proud
elastic step. The evenness of ranks, the
wave of banners, the flash of sabres and
the sheen of arms make up spectacle as
beautiful as ever was beheld. But it can
not last. 1t came to do destruction and it