Western Kansas world. [volume] (WaKeeney, Kan.) 1885-current, 1886-06-12
his Wichita address, OF Captain Trepo:

als w lCuitd dOOISSS, Oh OdpC0ln lfe&O:f
first met one of them in the winter of
1862. There was reorganization of
Kansas regiments, and hewas transferred
to mine with his company. Born in y
small village of New York, he was coun-
try bred, and had fair education
Square-shouldered, strong limbed, grace
FIJI in movement, and with every muscle
and fibre of his body vigorous and
healthy, his was a handsome figure.
Whether some remote ancestor had trans
mitted to him the blood of soldier, I
do not know, but l doubt if he ever
thought of war, or OF soldiers life, be-
fore the flash OF the gun at Sumter
startled the slumbering nation. He was
as modest as he was manly. Ii he was
corrected or reproved for mistakes such
as young officers frequently make in the
early days of their service, he would
blush like school girl. But he was a
born soldier. His blue-gray eyes were
alike steady. quick and fearless. After
three months drill he walked with the
erect and martial bearing of regular;
his prompt military salute, never for
gotten or omitted on any occasion, was
given or responded to with grace that
was at once easy and natural; and his
voice, clear as the tones of a silver bngle,
had in it the ring of trne commander.
He was a captain, and his company was
made up, as most volunteer companies
were, OF young men and boys who had
been the schoolmates and friends of their
officers. His affection for his boys deep
ened and strengthened during every day
of his service, and they idolized him.
But not one of them ever for moment
forgot that he was their captain, nor did
he forget it. The willing respect, the
cheerful and prompt obedience he gave
to bis superior officers, he expected from
his men, and they gave it, not SO much
because it was enforced as because it was
deserved.
don't think I ever heard him utter a
complaint concerning any feature of
soldiers life. however hard Or perilous it
might be. The dusty marches along the
Southern pixies, beneath the blazing heat
of summer sun; the cold and dreary
tramps of mid-winter; the lonely vigils Of
picket duty; the weary duty of camp life
none of these ever extorted from him q
murmur He was always and every
where the same cheerful, patient, willing
soldier; the same kindly, brave and man.
ly gentleman.
On the morning OF the 10 Of Septem-
Der, 1863 our division moved from near
Crawfish Springs to the battlefield Of
Chicamauga. The march was rapid,
dusty and exhausting. The thunder OF
artillery smote the air, and the crackle
of musketry at the distant fords told Of
a closer conflict. The troops that had
passed along the road during the night
had fred the fences on either side. and
they were still smouldering, filing the
atmosphere with sitting smoke. When
we reached a point near General Rose
Grams headquarters, we were ordered in
TO the woods to the right, and halted
TO give instructions to my regiment as
it passed by. Near its center marched
the young soldier Of whom / have been
speaking. AS he came up, and halted
FOR a moment to talk, / noted his striking
appearance. His ciothing was SO dusty
that it looked more like confederate gray
than Union blue; his face was stained
with smoke; he had tied white hand
kerchief about his neck, and its loose
folds fell down his back; but in his walk
and bearing there was no trace of either
fatigue or lassitude. His step was even
frmer, his bearing more erect than usual;
his brave eyes sparkled with the excite
ment of the near approaching fight.
In less than half an hour he was in the
midst of it, and all day long, as the battle
ebbed and flowed, and the air was turned
to powder and smoke, and shells tore
through the woods, and the roar of mus
kerry grew SO dense that it drowned tie
thunder of the cannon, his courage and
enthusiasm were conspicuOusly Illus
trated. At dusk our division was re-
lieved, and he marched his company to
the field assigned for our bivouac Over
fifty per cent. of his men had been killed
or wounded, but he was unhurt.
An hour later, after the command had |
cooked and eaten scanty meal, the
first since morning, he came to me and |
asked permission to take small squad |
of his company and go out to the 'front.'
Il think" he said, that may be able to |
find some Of my boys who are wounded"
[ gave the requested permission, but
warned him not to go too far, calling his
attention to the constant firing of the
picket lines. A bright smile lighted up
his face as he said: "Oh, I'll be careful.
But that rattle is feeble after the roar of
to-day" And giving his usual quick,
graceful military salute, he wheeled and
walked away out of the light of the camp
Gre into the darkness.
I never saw him again. An hour later
The men he had taken with him returned,
and reported that they had run into a
squad of the enemy; that the captain had
been shot through the heart and instant
y killed; and that they were unable to
bring in his body.
Thus ended the young life of Edgar P.
Irego, Ga soldier without fear and with
put reproach.' From the dull level of
everyday walks and ways he stepped at
once into the great events of great era,
and become hero and martyr for
great cause One of the counties of this
state bears his name, and is honored by
t. His remains, recovered months after
lis death, repose in the beautiful
national cemetery at Chattanooga, with
hose of nearly 10000 other soldiers who
gave up their lives that the country
might live.
'BraTe. good and true,
l see him stand before me now.
And read again on that young brow,
Where every hope new,
How sweet were life! Yet by the mouth frm-set
And look made up for duty's utmost debt, |
could divine he knew
That death within the sulphurous hostile lines.
In the mere wreck of nobly-pitehed designs,
Plucks hearts-ease, and not rue.n