Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1881-12-30

one Lieutenant Is waving his sword to his
men, although his leg is crushed at the Knee
three other officers Of the line are lying over
there, motionless now forever. All over the
field are strewn men wounded or dead, and
comrades pause moment in the mad rush to
catch the last words of the dying. Incidents
such as these the reader must imagine for
himself, to fill in these swift sketches OF how
the day was won-and LOST
Ave. lost For the balls which have so
far come mainly from our front, begin now
to sing in from our left and right, which
means that we are being fanked. Somehow,
away off to our right, a half-mile or 30, our
line has given way and is already on retreat
through the town, while our left is being
driven in, and we ourselves may shortly be
surrounded and crushed-and so the retreat
is sounded.
Back now along the railroad cut we go, or
through the orchard and the narrow strip OF
woods behind it, with our dead scattered
around on all sides, and the wounded cry
ing piteously for help.
"Harryl Harryl" 1t is a faint cry Of a
dying man yonder in the grass, and must
see who il is.
"Why, Willel Tell me where you are
hurt " ask, kneeling down beside him, and
see the words come hard, for he is fast dy-
ing.
'Here in my side, Harry. Tell-Mother
-Mother--"
Poor fellow, he can say no more. His
head falls back, and Willie Black is at rest
forever
On, now, through that strip of woods, at
the other edge of which, with my back
against a stout oak, | stop and look at beau
tiful and thrilling sight Some reserves are
being brought up; infantry in the centre,
the colors flying and officers shouting; cav
airy on the right with sabers flashing and
horses on a trot artillery on the left, with
guns at full gallop sweeping into position to
check the headlong pursuit is a grand
sight and fine rally, but vain one for in
an hour we are swept off the field and are in
full retreat through the town.
Up through the streets hurries the remnant
of our shattered corps, while the enemy is
pouring into the town only few squares
away from us. There is tempest Of shrek
ing shells and whistling balls about our ears.
The guns of that battery by the woods we
have dragged along, all the horses being dis
abled. The artillery men load as we go,
double-charging with grape and canister.
'Make way there, men !" is the cry, and
inc buTRlnR IltSs CTOWub ClOse up On tue
sidewalks to right and left, leaving a long
lane down the centre of the street, through
which the grape and canister go rafting into
the ranks Of the enemy's advance-guard.
And so, amid scenes which have neither
space nor power to describe, we gain Gene
terry ridge toward sunset, aud throw our
selves down by the road in tumult Of ex-
citement and grief, having lost the day
through the overwhelming force of numbers,
and yet somehow having gained it, too (al-
though as yet we know it mott, for the sac
rifice of our corps has saved the position for
the rest of the army, which has been march
ing all day, and which comes pouring in
over Cemetery ridge all night long
Aye, the position If saved-but where is
our corpsi Well may our Division General,
who early in the day succeeded to the com
mand when our brave Reynolds had fallen,
shed tears of grief as he sits there on his
horse and looks over the shattered remains
Of that First Army Corps, for there is but a
handful Of il left. OF the five hundred and
| fifty men that marched under our regimental
colors in the morning, but one hundred re.
main. All our field and staff officers are gone.
OF some twenty captains and licutenants, but
one is left without a scratch, while of my
own company only thirteen out of fifty-fom
sleep that night on Cemetery ridge, under
the open canopy of heaven.-HdTy M
RicBer, in 81. Nicholas for January.
|