The DeSmet leader. (DeSmet, Kingsbury Co., Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1891, 1883-11-24
Story of a Battle

Wooi.dnu AMI rleauOw IOfiOws IL. "a AUatH
the ringing notes, softened by distance, cau
through the sunlight, but there Is an iriperi-
ous accent of command In the cleai-e
tones musical as they are. 0nce more tho
bugla call thrills through the bcaat!fsl May
afternoon. The meadow lark ansa crs il, ard
the robin whistles nerrily back to its echoes
How my heart leaped at the sound OF the !
bugle-call How my blood we'll surgin4
through my veins like tide Of lava Out
of my prison window l look with Araining
eyes, In the fiuttering leaves raw see no
fatter of bayonets. listen. hut down the
! road or across the meadow can hear not tne
rumble Of battery hurrying into position.
! How silent il all is, and yet not silene
enough! ] wish the robin wonh hush his
merry note II is moclsery. Does ne know
what he Is singing aboutf Does he know
what the hugle sang that he answers with
such merry defiancef Aud then want bia
To keep perfectly quiet want the wind I'd
hush, and the leaves 10 Keep still, and the
brook to stiile its habble and laughter. am
| listening for a football, the cracking OF
twig, the mulied tramp OF a column OF MEN
stealing through the woods under leafy
cover. l an listening for the neigh of
horse, "A clatter Of rythmic hoofbcats, ring
1 ing carbine sh {. Pecring out of the window
of this lonely cell, am lstening--ever since
that first buglc-call came winding over the
hill have been listening--for stei1ier music
than tho robins note and the wood brooks
mur1nur.
Mar.'n!"
There It - = 'sr I~ar zoe nothing from
1 this window. rhe ~ comes like faraway
echo of the bugle--a boylsh vuicc softened
into music by the day and the distance. !
picture to myself the fair-haired liertenaiit
who commands the skirmishers. All! those
days made men Of boys; the schoolboy
fought beside the veteran and tue adjutant OF
twenty messed with the colonel Of forty.
win the line never come In my sights
Haltf'
Silence again, and once more the bugle calls
down the unseen linc Now can hear the
tramp of feet amid all the terrible hush Of
preparation. All about me the tide Of battle
will sweep, save only where can see 1t, and
| I-penned in this prison like Gagged rat,
with ringing buelc and clanking sabre calling
me out, shouting my name in words that
ring and ring again-and am here.
March"
Away of tho top OF the drum, the fam,
fam, fam, cadencing the stop Of the march
ing column. Nearer 1t comes, and further
away 1t sweeps, fants into quiet at last.
Tramp, tramp, tramp, MuHled. yet distinct
and stepping nearer with every football
There they come, shouts some one. ] hold
my breath; press my hand on my heart and
wait for the first shot from the skirnishers.
"Readyw
The click OF musket so close, II seems In
the worry room where I am. Godsl II the
robin would only hush his song. I listen for
the sound of the boyish voice again. IL seems
to me In my excited condition there is o
childish treinble 10 it. wonder if
"Fire."
How the cheers, pealing up in waves Of
sound, drowned the crash / was listening
for! Again the boyish voice calls '.''iirl"'
and again the shrill cheers follow. They
hush as the bugie notes come pealing down
the lire again hear drum beat. hear
the tramp OF huirying feet. Some one is
calling for ''the flag" Once ] heard-so
close the tide Of battle swept to my prison
"a sabre spring from It's scabbard with an
angry sweep. And all this time could sae
only the golden snnshine-only the futter.
ing leaves aud the playing shadows length
ening into the waning day. and floating In
at my window came the mellow whistle OF
Ma robin.
The cheers are fainter now az the shadows
grow longer. The robins note has ceased
Mellow, clear, and beautifully imperious a.
ever, the bugle calls again. A pail Of silence
falls upon the clamor and din OF battle. I
try the door Of my prison. II yields to my
touch. Down q stairway with noseless tread
hasten. step through a curtained door
stand on the field where the waves Of contcn-
tion had thundared and dashed The level
rays Of the setting sun drift over the helpless
figures stretched about me like q blessing upon
the dead.
At my feet the overturned cannon LEA
There are its shattered wheels. Lying across
the brazen muzzle, ''his back To the field aud
his feet to the foe, lies an artillery sergeant,
still graspng the broken sabre In his iiarve-
less hand. Here is PROSTATE group Of in
fantry soldiers; they will never stand upon
their feet again Here is a trooper; headlesS.
he lies under the horse that, with two leos
torn away, has fallen upon him A little
drummer loy--how came such child herer
where the fiery Elaelstrom Of war eircled
and eddied In fire and carnage and
fury.--lies by his drum. bend above
him. and In face and form there Is nothing
human left. Red arc the stains about Il.
and his broken little hand lies stiff and rigid
on the edge Of the scattered drum Il IN ter
riblc Here, CHASTITY and horrible lias .
head, n blue cap with It's scarlet and white
po,npon still resting jauntily over the brow;
but nowhere can see the soldiers body.
Here il saler bent and twisted in
the fury Of hand to-hand combat walk
among headless trunks, arms and legs with
out bodies; crippled horses lie prone On their
Sides or stand wearily and with dumb "a.
thence, upon three legs. tread carefully over
and around the broken, shattered bodies AZ
the fallen men. Here is the flag, TAFT red
and unfurled, justas 10 dropped from the
hands of the sergeant; here an cpaulet, gilt
ttring In crimson and gold; here Is the gilded
belt Of the general! here, marred and bcnt
and dented, lies the bugle whose silver notes
called into play this wreck and
carnage. And here, away or
on the edge Of the field, away, wherc lust
the spray Of this angry wave OF strife could
have reached, my foot almost falls on
child lying prostrate, half turned on her face.
The dainty feet peep out Of . cloud OF silk
and lace; the tangled hair OF gold, skein oe
sunshine, half hides the brow and cheek.
There is no sign of life I'm the beautiful face.
Killed by the terror and fear born OF the bat
tie! bend to lift the little form, and the.
arm upon which I thought the child was
lying Is gone; horrible gasI,
reaches from the temple to the base
Of the brain, and the left eye Is crushed
In its socket. The ctild-the dear, sweet
little girl; somebody's darling, fair Sacrifices.
to the hideous molch OF war, how could
1 "Roibie hear the voice Of her little sereno
highnss. Robbie! Come now and pick up,
your toys, dear. You've left your dolly ai,l
nil your soldiers scattered about over the
floor, 50 that papa can scarcely walk across
tie room. And somebody has stepped on
poor little Bessies heaa. Im afraid she'll
have to 20 to the surgical institute"
y ratter Of flying feet, and the bluceyed
coInnlander Of the troops. aged q, COMES
charging into the ROOM and, resolving him.
self ito an ambulance corps, collects the
lad and wounded with both hands, scous.
them into big box, examines the fra.4u,1
In the wounded doIly's heal for sawdust. al q
appears surprised to lind the skull lined with
a big hoe.
Papa he cries. "did you bear e battle.
( 81 t.sl t,,an.rs