The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928, 1888-01-07

small western town, under the lamented
Gilbert Hathaway, who later in the
war, while we served in the famous
provisional Brigade" sealed his de-
votion to the Union and the old flag
with his life's blood. While the subse
quent years brought us new and msri-
torious commanders, and the years
themselves were so pregnant with
events, with battles lost and won,
with capture and prison life upon Belle
Isle, his memory was ever held sacred
by the men, who served under him, for
they knew and loved him as brave
Christian soldier.
It was in the yard surrounding the
county court house, where the muster
ingofficer had his quarters, and where
men were eagerly enlisting to serve
their country. Crowds of people were
thronging that day to listen to the
speaking from the steps of the build
ing.
I had concluded the oath my sd
vanced years entitled me to take, and
as I stepped back my place was filled
by slight, boyish form with smooth
face that did not seem nearly so good
q passport to the oath without ques-
ton. I was struck by the clear-cut
features, and the honest, vigorous ex-
preston of the boys eyes; eyes that
were of a calm, determined blue. He
was expostuiated with by the officers,
and told that he was TOO young, to
stand back, &c. The boy insisted that
notwithstanding his youth there was
no one to dispute his right to serve his
country in her hour of need.
After some questioning and ascer-
tanning that the boy was an orphan,
with no one to interpose objections,
he was duly sworn in as Richard
Moss" and assigned to Co. OH"
walked beside him to the rendez.
vous, and laying my hand upon his
shoulder said to him, Richard, we are
destined to be comrades-in-arms, and
I trust you fully understand the step
you have taken" He expressed graf
itude that we were to be comrades,
said he only understood that his coun.
try needed his services, and that he
was willing to accord them, and that
there never could be a moments re.
greet for the course he had taken.
Although the disparity in our ages
would imply that we were illy-mated,
we thus became mess-mates, and an
affection sprang up between us that
only ended with the going out of that
young, devoted life upon the field OF
carnage.
We were ordered 'front.'" and in the
Buel-Bragg campaign we were duly ini'
tiated into the details OF a soldier g
life, and into the terrible sequence OF
an internecine war.
Around the bivouac, and upon lone
ly watches learned the history OF my
boys early life. He was born in Ten
nessee, and at IL years old his parents
had died and were buried near Nash
vile, leaving only himself and an old
er brother, who still lived, at the be-
ginning of the war In east Tennessee.
At the death of his parents he had
been confided to the care of q maiden
aunt who lived in New Hampshire, and
with her he had lived and been educa-
ted up to her death, which occurred
simultaneously with the breaking out
of the war.
Our campaign lay in the once beauti.
full Tennessee Valley, so familiar with
his early life, before the devastating
hand OF war, that subsequently laid
waste this fair land, before the dread
full civil strife with it's hot breath
swept over it like the blighting simo
leaving this beautiful valley a dreary
wilderness with great blackened CHM
neys standing out here and there
against the war bronzed sky, like grim
sentinels guarding the ashes OF once
happy homes.
The army had camped for the night,
and as we stood in the fast receding
sunlight, and looked out over the val
ley, athwart which the shadows were
deepening, he pointed away to where
two large chimneys were visible against
the twilight sky, and while the shad-
ows that had crept up over the valley
seemed to have entered his soul, he
said, ""That was once our home" and
the look of unutterable anguish that
came over the sweet, blue eyes, l can
not forget. said, "Come away,
Richard, you see the hour OF
regret you onceso confidently thought
should never come, is now here" mo,
no." he said, lido not mean that, you
wrong me, but, oh, tits SO desolate, SO
,desolate." said no more, but as we
still sat therein the deeper and darker
shadows of night, I remembered that
ga sorrows crown of sorrow is remem-
bering happier things" and as !
watched the stars, one by one, assume
their sphere allotted them in space,
found myself questioning the wisdom,
mercy and omnipotence of the God who
had spoken them into being, and spec
ulating as to whether in caring Tor all
these worlds he had not forgotten ours,
and / found it in my heart, too, to
curse thepassion and prejudices of bad
and ambitious men, who through
sectional hate and damnable heresies
had brought about the disintegratlon
of our happy country, and sorrow and
desolation to thousands OF happy
homes.
The campaign, after some months OF
weary marching and some lighting, cul-
minated at last in the battle OF "Stone
River" or Murfreesboro, a battle both
lost and won upon that memorable
last day of the year, a battle that left
us victors, so far as the objectivep point
attained could make it, but at a sac
rifice that would scarcely entitle us to
the name of victory. With the going
out of the old year, amidst the smoke
and fire of battle, came sorrow and
bitter desolation to many hearth.
stones, to many households, whose
loved ones had laid down their lives In
defense of the old flag.
Company III numbered more dead
than living that night. Less than a
score of us gathered around our little
fire with sad hearts and subdhed
voices, for out upon the field in our
front lay our comrades who had an
swered to their last roll-call upon
earth, and while the pitiless rain fell
tirelessly upon the upturned face OF
the tenantless clay, their souls had