Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1884-04-10
DURIN' THE WAR;"

him this year; not for the twenty
wears past. reckOn-the old confeder-
ate soldier (who limped about awk-
wardly. for he had a lot of lead to
carry) told me the story. the other day.
ia the Shenandoah II it is untrue or
dull, blame him, not me. I only give
it as / got it.
Gen "Jeh" Stuart was hanging on
the federal flank. His midnight camp
was pitched on the hillside. Up the
hill little way lay farmhouse; two
or three haystacks hung upon the hill
side. The WORKOUT horses fed there
and nodded their drowsy head to the
hay. All around on the ground un-
der the trees in camp the troopers lay
black men, white men, brown men,
men who were gray and old, little
lads, boys who had seen a dozen bat
ties and hardly yet as many years, a
mixed and a molly lot; ragged, hun
cry and wretched They lay on their
bellies before the fire, munching roast
ed corn, gnawing it off the cob greedi-
", husking it, roasting 1T, rolling itin
the ashes Of the Goals, singing il in the
blazing fire Of old Virginia feucerauS,
Now and then a shot rang ont i'm the
clear, still night, away where the tired
pickets met too closely for peace, and
now and then better disposed men on
the picket lines, or more favored and
fortunate, met together and reached
each other on their bayOnetS tobacco
and old ragged newspapers in a sort
of exchange Of prisoners of war. The
moon rode high and white in the great
blue sea above, and all the stars of
heaven looked down IN pity and sOr-
row.
Then a song burst out. The black
men were singing louder, sweeter,
with more pathOs and memories OF
home than the white men. 1t was a
sad, grotesque, weird and unique pic
ture. Suddenly Stuart stood in the
midst of the ragged and uproarlous
lot
discipline. Look here, Sergeant
Zeb, I want discipline or death. Dis
cipline, I say. Do you expect me to
fight battles and win victories with
howling mob like this, and the enemy
right here waiting to recOil on us the
moment we give him chance! Dis
cipline I say. Hang your blacks and
shoot your whites, or have discip
line?'
Silence ia a second! And the
long, lean men and the sleeping lads
pulled themselves together and tried
to look and act like soldiers, while
the blacks, at the suggestion of their
being hung up, melted back from the
fitful emberS into the night as If they
were a part OF it,
Then the weary, bearded chief threw
himself on q neap of saddles at hand
and forgot his sternness, as ne looked
about over the wretched group of
poor fellows gathered for a little rest
under the oaks.
Boys, I'm hungry; hungry as a
wolf; what have you got to eat?'
A dozen men sprang up, half
dozen young, beardless troopers rush
ed forward, and from out of the
night back under the trees, there
came many black FORMS And each
and every one, black men and white
men, old men and little boys, reached
up and thrust into the chieftain's face,
with generous alacrty, an ear of
roasted corn. Some Of these ears of
corn had only a few teeth marks in
Others again were pretty we'll gnawed
down to the cob. But they were
alike offered with prompt generosity.
Corn y and the cOnft derate chief
shook his head with grim and sickly
smile as he muttered to himself
'Cornl billed corn, roasted corn, raw
corn, w hite corn, red corn, all kinds
of corn. No, no, boys, I'm hungry,
but can't eat any more tonight
The men melted back IN respectful
silence INTO broad circle And there,
suddenly, somehow in the center of
that circle stood child, a little boy
who had been aroused from his sleep
on the pile of saddles in the commo-
ton that attended the chieftains com
ing. And now, wide awake, with a
little flag In one hand and d red
apple IN the other, this little boy stood
there in the midst of these wild and
ragged men, with cheeks as rosy as the
apple he held in his dimpled little
hand.
If yer hungry, mister, capten, gen
eral, here's my yed apple, and with
this the little boy toddled right up and
stood almost between the boots of
the surprised soldier.
Ser geant Zeb, where in all Jericho
did the child come from? Is it yours?
[ won't have children around me
here | left my babies at home can't
you do the same?"
'Tain't my poor little chickie, Gen.
Stuart.
"Then take it to its mother, thun-
dered the chief
Its mother is dead, general"
Then its father, then"
Its father is dead, too, general"
''Dead?'
Dead. Killed in the battle yester-
day when you led over that stone
fence by the farmhouse on the hill,
sab. >
The confederate general bit his
lips. Then, muttering to himself as
he rose up and turned half away,
Killed at the farmhouse where [ led.